(A/N): Again, this is probably around beginning-mid season one, but it doesn't particularly matter. Hope you enjoy.

Father Lantom walked down the street and toward the church. The streetlights flickered as he strolled by a couple drunkenly staggering on the sidewalk, laughing and kissing to their hearts' content. Father Lantom passed by buildings and alleyways, trying his best to ignore them. Suddenly, he flinched. A sharp bang came from an alley. Smiling, he saw a stray dog emerge from a trash container, trotting off with a leftover burger in his mouth. Father Lantom kept walking, the giggling of the couple fading behind him.

When he was close to his church, small thuds came from another alley. Dismissing it as another animal, he strolled on until he heard grunts. Father Lantom stopped and walked back, prepared for anything to come out. The moon was faint, but he could see a silhouette of a man hunched over, leaning on a wall for support. He was panting out heaving breaths, clenching his stomach as he threw up on the floor.

The priest walked nearer. He was sure the man knew he was there; the stranger tilted his head slightly toward the sound of the footsteps. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the silhouette stood up straighter, his shoulders still heaving and his hand on the wall. "Father," the man greeted, his voice sore and raw. Father Lantom laughed at his luck; a priest and the devil, meeting in a dark alley at the dead of night. It felt too surreal to be true.

"It's been awhile since your last confession, Matthew." The priest stood there by the entry of the alley, waiting for Matt to come out.

"I've… been busy," Matt replied. He swayed slightly at his feet, keeping a hold of the wall for balance. Father Lantom couldn't see it, but Matt's face was bruised and battered, and there was a gash on his arm. His knuckles were bloodied, and he knew he'd have to make up with a good excuse for coming into the office with a discolored face.

Father Lantom eyed the shaking figure. "Too busy to take care of yourself, I assume."

"I'm fine."

"The contents of your stomach are on the floor. I wouldn't count yourself as 'fine', Matthew."

The priest was very convincing, because before he knew it, Matt was in the church, lying on a sofa.

"You're welcome here any time," Father Lantom said while pouring himself coffee. "I don't want you having to crawl your way home when you get injured."

Matt scoffed at the idea. "I didn't know that the church welcomes in the devil, Father." He closed his eyes, his stomach rolling angrily as Matt tried to relax. His senses were muddled as his head felt like it was being pounded and a fever was starting to arriving.

"The devil deceits people, Matthew. It doesn't save people, it doesn't feel guilt, and it most certainly doesn't get sick in alleyways." Contently, Father Lantom took a sip from his coffee, eyeing Matt's bruises and the bandage wrapped around the recently sewn wound on his arm. Matt said nothing, his chest rising and falling as he listened to his priest speak. When he didn't respond, Father Lantom moved on. Sighing, he said, "You have to take care of yourself. How can you try to save lives when you can hardly care of your own?"

Matt's eyes were still closed, and for a moment, Father Lantom thought that he was asleep until a small smile danced on Matt's face. "I don't think it's good for the church to endorse a man who fights criminals at night. Besides," he continued, "I don't think that the moral values of the devil of Hell's Kitchen and the Bible can coexist peacefully."

"Why do you come to church, then?" The priest couldn't get an answer before Matt bent over and threw up in the trash can.

For the next three hours, Matt fell asleep on the couch with Father Lantom worriedly glancing at him as he read his Bible. It wasn't until three in the morning when the priest had the heart to wake Matt up, fearing that he would be seen getting back home once the sun started to rise.

The fever was higher, and but still, Matt sluggishly stood up to return home. His face was flushed and stomach was grumbling at the food Matt had eaten, despite the fact that he hadn't had lunch or dinner. "Promise me you'll get rest," Father Lantom said as Matt was at the door. He was given only a smile of reassurance before the vigilante slid back into the dark night. The priest could only hope that Matt would listen, even when he saw a black figure leaping across the rooftops the next night.

(A/N): I hope this chapter was okay. It took a bit of refining to get it right(ish). Criticism is welcome, and reviews would make my day!