AN: Sorry for the delay with this one – I've had a chronic migraine for almost four months and there just haven't been many writable days lately. There are about sevenish chapters left, which I will hopefully be able to finish around Christmas. As ever, your reviews are a delight, I'm really glad you're enjoying the story enough to leave a comment! Thank you readers! Author out.

Jessica was leaning against the wall outside Matt's room. She took two swigs from a bottle half-hidden in a ripped paper bag in the time it took Karen to walk from the elevator to the door. She greeted her with a nod as she swallowed another mouthful. Karen hesitated, one hand resting against the door.

"Do you want to talk?" she offered quietly, her gaze serious. Jessica considered her for a long moment before shrugging and shaking her head.

"I'm good."

"You don't look good."

Jessica snorted. "Yeah, well. He's having a bad day."

Karen's heart slipped inside her chest and fell gracelessly to her feet. If the words hadn't been enough to raise her tide of misery, Jessica's tone certainly was. Her voice softened when she spoke about Matt, no matter how resigned or belligerent she sounded, but now she only sounded despairing. A muscle in her jaw feathered as she half-raised the bottle again, hesitated, then took another quick gulp.

"He's still refusing pain meds?" Karen guessed, her hopeless exhaustion making it sound more like a statement.

"Yup." Jessica drew the word out so it could better convey the depths of Matt's idiocy.

Karen shifted her weight and scowled at the situation. "And Claire's letting him?"

A short, laugh-like cough lifted Jessica's expression for a moment.

"He pulled out three IVs before he agreed to let her leave a syringe full of something normal people would need after open-heart surgery. She made him promise he'd use it when he needed it, but, it's Matt. He's a fucking moron."

An exasperated sigh unfurled itself from Karen's lungs and flopped to the floor. "Can't argue there."

Jessica laughed properly at that. It was too short, and the mirth didn't reach her eyes, but it was at least genuine. She jerked her head to the door.

"Go ahead, if you want. I, eh ... I'm taking a break."

With a small smile, Karen reached out and squeezed Jessica's arm, leaving her hand there for a moment in silent understanding. Jessica took another, smaller drink and didn't pull away. With a quick nod, Karen pushed the door open and stepped inside, the squeak of her shoes inaudible over the low wail of the door catching on the linoleum.

She had to remind herself that Matt was looking better. Better than he had a week ago. Much better than two weeks ago. He had his colour back. He was moving. He was awake. He was ... writhing and rigid on the bed, the veins popping out of his arms and neck. What remained of his muscle standing out in sharp relief against the all too prominent ribs rising like a cliff from his hollowed stomach. His hands were fists in the blanket, his head pressed hard into the flimsy pillow, his toes curling in their thick socks as he tried to keep himself from twisting and turning on the bed, sending the wires connecting him to the machines dancing with the strain. His eyes were tight shut, his feathering jaw clamped in heart-wrenching determination.

Karen hurt just looking at him.

She sat by his side and held his hand. Or rather, she laid both of hers over his tightly clenched fists and tried to ignore how much it was shaking.

"Matt?" she asked quietly, hoping her voice sounded steadier than it felt. It never got easier, seeing him like this. "Can you hear me?"

He didn't react, to her touch or her voice. The pain must be especially bad today. No wonder Jessica had needed a break. Karen shoved her sorrow out of reach of her heart and started talking. It didn't matter what about, Matt was only there in body. She filled the space between them with her voice, unable to do anything more. After a while, Matt turned his head in her direction and the fist in her hands jerked slightly, but it was less out of recognition and more out of surviving another wave of agony. Still, she pretended she was helping. To keep herself sane.

Then she ran out of things to say. It was hard keeping a coherent train of thought when constantly interrupted by strangled half-groans and exhausted grunts. Matt even whimpered occasionally. He was so far out of himself he couldn't filter his vulnerability and that, above anything else, hurt Karen. This was a side of himself he never meant anyone to see and yet everyone in his world had a front row seat to his misery.

He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this.

Matt's every breath was a misted gasp under the oxygen mask – the cannula wasn't cutting it today – the sharp movement of his chest sounding violent and painful. A memory expanded behind her eyes with intrusive suddenness: Kevin in his room, curled over on himself on his bed, his chest heaving hysterically as tears painted temporary scars across his cheeks. It was three days since mom had died and he'd been studiously stoic until this moment. He was holding one of her sweaters, grief turning his knuckles white. Karen hadn't said anything. She'd just sat beside him on the rickety old bed, held him close, and sang the song that had always settled him as a baby until he melted against her and his tears dried on his skin.

She blinked, and the hospital rematerialized around her, complete with Matt's straining hand twitching in hers. Almost fifteen years and every time Kevin slipped past her guard she still cried. Wiping the tears away and taking a shaking breath, Karen smiled and sent a silent thank you to her dead brother. He was still saving her, even now.

She cleared her throat and started to sing. Softly. Gently. Too quietly to really hit the lowest notes, but that didn't matter. When she couldn't remember the lyrics, she simply hummed the tune, all the while weaving her fingertips around Matt's taut knuckles, tracing the peaks and troughs of the bones standing out in sharp relief along the back of his hand.

By the time she started the final verse, Matt had relaxed. His fingers opened to hold hers, turned his head in the direction of her voice and opened his bleary, pain-soaked eyes.

"Karen?" he mumbled, sounding unsure.

"Yeah, Matt. It's me."

The mask twitched as he smiled.

"Hi."

She chuckled and raised his hand enough to kiss. His breathing was a little gentler now too, though still far from calm. "Hi yourself."

"Nice ... nice song." His expression spasmed for a moment, his brow furrowing as another assault of agony rippled across his chest.

Karen swallowed the urge to cry and hoped Matt was too out of it to hear her heart falter.

"Thanks. My brother liked it. When he was little."

Matt gave the tiniest nod, too distracted to respond properly. Clutching his hand a little tighter, Karen hurried to drown out his heavy panting.

"Will you take some pain meds? There's a dose right here. You need it, Matt," she added as he opened his mouth.

"I can last ... a little longer," he sighed.

"But you don't have to."

"Rather see than ... than be blind again."

Karen was spared concealing her heartbreak over that little bomb by Jessica's abrupt entrance.

"How's he doing?"

"The same," Karen sighed at the same moment Matt said, "I'm fine."

Karen threw him an exasperated glare she wished he could see.

"I'm banning you from saying that. You abuse it."

A tiny frown wrinkled his brow.

"Objection," he mumbled stubbornly. "Freedom of sp- ... of speech."

It was a shadow of the real Matt. The sass, the dogged adherence to his point, it was ... God, it was the first glimmer of hope Karen hadn't had to conjure herself. He'd made a joke. That had to be a good sign.

It was also why she and Jessica laughed, because, honestly. Matt hadn't had the energy to be annoying since before he was shot.

"You're such an asshole," Jessica said affectionately as she sat herself by Matt's other side.

Unfortunately, Matt tried to chuckle. He managed one mirthful cough before he was languidly trying to double himself over, gasping for breath around a chestful of fire. His grip on Karen's hand turned crushing, his muscles straining with the effort to reclaim a lungful of air. She and Jessica were on their feet in moments, pulling him into a sitting position and running comforting hands along his back, speaking in slow, commanding tones. By the time the pain subsided enough for him to coax in a full breath, they were all that were keeping him up. He was barely conscious, limp in their hands. They laid him back against the pillow – Jessica tugging the comforter up to cover his shoulders – but he couldn't straighten his torso so stayed curled on his side.

He must've angered his split rib.

"Matt, I'm getting the drugs," Karen said, not caring if he could understand her.

"No, Kar'n, n- ..." He had to stop to gather air to fuel his pointless protest. She didn't wait for him.

"Matt, you can't heal if you spend all your energy trying to meditate through the pain. For god's sake, there's a hole in your heart!"

She snatched the syringe from the stand bearing the heart monitor – which was silently beating out a frantic rhythm – and turned back to him. His expression gave her pause and she leaned forward, putting a hand on his cheek.

"I promise it'll be okay. Please, trust me. We'll keep you safe, Matt."

Closing his eyes in a vain effort to hide his fear, Matt gave a tiny, defeated nod.

Supressing her relief, Karen uncapped the needle, stuck it into the IV port, and pushed the plunger all the way down.

The effect was almost instant. Matt fell out of his foetal posture, his head flopping into the pillow. His expression cleared and his chest began to rise with gentle reliability. Jessica pulled the blanket around him, tucking him in with an expression that dared Karen to comment. She quickly busied herself with returning the needle to its perch, hiding her grin.

Matt rolled his head in Jessica's direction, a wide grin dislodging the mask slightly.

"El-lektra?" he mumbled happily. Reaching one hand drunkenly for her.

Jessica froze, her face shuttering. Matt's hand found her arm and the contact thawed her. She took his hand and heaved a sigh.

"She's not here, Matt. You're stuck with me."

Matt frowned, blinking slowly as the drugs stalled his thoughts. He looked about to say something when he abruptly stiffened, panic flashing behind his eyes.

Shit. Karen almost wished she knew where to track down surviving IGH employees. She could have a fresh clip for each of them and would still force the gun to click.

Jessica leant forward before she could, running her fingers through Matt's hair, smoothening his brow with her thumb. Karen sat back down, trying to ignore the outdated pang making her heart shudder. She pulled out her phone and checked her emails.

Matt's hand was searching again, and Jessica caught it, bringing it to her face as she promised him he was safe.

"Oh." He gave a low hum. "Jessica. Missed you, Jess'ca." With a contented sigh, the drugs pulled him into a painless sleep, his hand still tangled in her hair.

She held his hand against her chest for a moment before returning it to the blanket – reluctantly, Karen thought – and sat down, studiously avoiding her eye.

"Sorry," she grunted a while later. "I, uh –"

"It's fine," Karen said quickly, no more eager for that conversation that she was.

"I know you two had a thing –"

"Jess, seriously. It was a long time ago and honestly?" She glanced to Matt. "Too much has happened since. We don't ... fit anymore. Not sure we ever did." She turned her smiling gaze to Jessica. "You two do though. Really."

Jessica nodded. Then shook her head. "I'm not so sure about that anymore."

"No?"

Jess shrugged. "I mean, two seconds after we decided to go for it he gets shot in the chest and spends the next month a vegetable. He still can't hold up a conversation." She shrugged again, her eyebrows pinching. "I'm not exactly one for signs but, shit."

Karen smiled and leant forward, leaning one elbow on the bed by Matt's thigh and idly playing with his fingers.

"I get that. Believe me, I do. But that sort of thing just doesn't work with Matt Murdock."

"How do you figure?"

"Come on, Jessica. You know it wasn't a choice for him. It's who he is. Hell, the whole reason he was blinded in the first place was because he was trying to save someone else."

Jessica's frown deepened. "He's such a ..." She gave her head a tight shake. "I don't get it. This time was different. I'd bet anything Bullseye made him some kind of deal. My life for his. Matt knew he'd die. And he did it anyway."

"It's hard, isn't it?" Karen said quietly, following Jessica's gaze to Matt. "Realising how much your life can mean to someone else. He got this," she tugged the blanket back far enough to show Jessica the small blob of scar tissue on Matt's left shoulder, just visible above the bandages, "saving me and a bunch of others from the Hand. Didn't even flinch. First thing he did was make sure I was okay."

She tucked the blanket back around his neck and leaned back. "First night we met he risked his life for me when he knew I was lying to him. Granted, in hindsight he was lying too, but still. He made me feel safe with him when there was still a bounty on my head. Only hours after someone tried to kill me. And he did it like it was no big deal, like anyone would've." She paused, watching the pieces fall together. "I think he forgets, because of Foggy."

"Foggy?"

"He has this way with people. He's kind, right down to his core, and he cares about people. Matt's never had someone like that in his life so in his head he can never be as good a person as Foggy, no matter how many lives he saves. And that comparison blinds him to the fact that he stands head and shoulders above the crowd on his own. Just cause Foggy stands taller he assumes he's less than."

"Foggy doesn't go out getting stabbed and shit for complete strangers," Jessica pointed out, a little harshly. Karen laughed.

"I mean with people. I think part of the reason Matt loves being Daredevil so much is that it means he doesn't have to be a person. He's a symbol. A body. Yeah, it's important what he does and that he refuses to kill, but he only ever gets hurt physically, really. Which he knows how to handle. But in the day? Just as Matt? You never really got to know him before IGH, how he was around people. He was ... vulnerable. And I'm still not convinced it was all part of the act. You notice how he never stammers as Daredevil? I think that's because being the mission is easier than being the man."

Jessica let out a low chuckle and leaned back, producing another bottle of whiskey out of nowhere and taking a pull. "Were you a shrink in another life or something? Jesus."

Karen shrugged one shoulder, looking back to the man in question. "I had a lot of time to think when he was, y'know. When we thought he was gone."

She couldn't get used to Matt being so still and silent. He was meant to squirm and argue whenever she made a case for him being a good man. He hated hospitals, he should be a giant pain in all their asses now, but instead he was just ... surviving. Even at his most lucid he was quiet, distant. Embarrassed by every tear and groan. As though they gave a shit about anything but how to make him better.

And if this was him surrounded by friends, how much worse had he been, all alone, in IGH? Karen couldn't quite supress the shudder that accompanied that thought.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just ... Every now and then I just get it, you know? He went through so much alone."

"Yeah, well," Jessica said with the air someone adjusting their bargepole to keep a threatening conversation at bay. "He's not alone now." She reached for the small stack of photos semi-hidden under the bust of Matt's dad on the bedside table. Her posture was still guarded, unwelcoming, but it melted into vulnerability within seconds of looking at the photos of a kid Matt and his dad. Karen could tell she hadn't seen these before, her eyes were suddenly bright with unshed tears and the corner of her mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. Softened by the evidence that there had once been a young, happy Matt who could see the love in his doting father's face and felt safe in his home and watched boxing and was just ... a normal kid from Hell's Kitchen. Just a little boy with no scars whose greatest fears were trivial and always kept at arm's length by his father's steadfast presence. She remembered herself quickly – faster than Karen had when she'd seen them – reshuffling the pictures and shoving them quickly back under the plastic bust, which she subtly replaced facing the wall.

"No. He's not." She watched Jessica refit her mask and smiled warmly at her, suddenly very glad she had slouched into their lives. "Thank you for that."

Predictably, Jessica avoided the gratitude in her gaze, shrinking minutely into her jacket as she shifted her weight. "He'd've done the same for me."

"Yeah but since when has Matt ever expected to be treated the way he treats other people? He wouldn't know how to handle that, how to accept it. He doesn't even understand how special he is. How rare." She hesitated. "I don't think you do either. Part of why you guys could work so well together. You'll remind each other."

The chair gave a staccato squeak as Jessica pushed back a little in surprise. She shifted her weight uncomfortably and busied herself taking another drink.

"So Danny wants to try some mystic healing bath or something," she said when she'd swallowed, carefully not looking at her.

Karen took the hint and swallowed the rest of her insight. "Yeah – did I hear he needed dragon blood for it?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "God, I don't know, but I damn sure hope not. Maybe he meant some kind of flower, or ... that Komodo thing."

"Be great if it helps though," Karen said, suddenly quiet. "He needs a break."

Jessica cleared her throat. "Danny knows what he's doing. For once. Matt'll be fine." Karen just nodded, her eyes suddenly hot. She bit her lower lip, too tired to cry again.

"Hey. Karen. Come on, you know he'll be fine. Guy's too stubborn not to be."

Karen sniffed and smiled at Jessica, carefully ignoring the memory of Matt lying as though dead in a bathtub full of blood.

"Yeah. You're right."

"And in the meantime," Jessica continued, looking subtly pleased with herself, "all we gotta do is hunt down the son of a bitch who did this."

Karen groaned and slumped back in her chair. "Please tell me you've have more luck with that than me 'cause I've tried every angle I could think of and the best I could put together was an inconsistent profile."

Jessica mirrored her posture with a sigh. "Don't tell Super-Ears over here but Luke and I checked out that clinic where Bullseye attacked me and Trish."

"Oh? Any leads?"

She shrugged. "Found some stuff for Hogarth and Foggy. Nothing on Bullseye though. Still in the wind."

"Or biding his time 'til we drop our guard."

"Exactly."

"Great."

"Yup."

"Gag order seems to be working at least. Seems the staff here aren't running their mouths about all the, well." Karen gestured vaguely to Matt and his many hidden scars.

"I'll sleep easier when we're out of this hellhole," Jess grumbled, slumping down in her seat with a heavy sigh. "Every day I think Bullseye'll show up. All the ways he could find out where Matt is. All the ways he could kill him."

She trailed off, caught in a stare for a long moment. Then she blinked, seeming to realise what she had said.

"That was dark," Karen noted quietly.

"Yeah, well. I'm paranoid."

But she wasn't wrong. Bullseye was relentless. The only way to stop someone like that was to ... But Matt would never allow it. Not if he knew about it. Which might be why Foggy was so adamant to keep Matt as in the dark as possible as to the world outside his recovery.

Karen heaved a sigh. Protecting Matt from whatever nightmare was waiting for him was like trying to stop the rain. Bullseye wasn't gonna leave him alive. It wasn't his MO. He would be back. Everyone else who had been freed from IGH were dead – something Foggy had outright forbidden anyone to mention anywhere near the hospital lest Matt overheard.

Karen nudged her handbag with her shoe, feeling for the solid weight of her gun.

Bullseye would be back. The only question that mattered was, would they be ready when he came?