A bell rang as Foggy Nelson stepped the door of a Harlem bistro, hair slicked back and tie meticulously straightened.

A manicured hand shot up at a table at the other end of the restaurant, and Foggy raised a hand in greeting at the sight of the woman there- Claire Temple. She sat over a bowl of soup, a manila folder positioned at the edge of the table next to her.

Foggy pulled out a chair and took a seat across from her, folding his hands over the table with a smile. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic."

Claire nodded once. "Thanks for meeting with me. I appreciate you taking the time."

"Ah. It's nothing." Foggy waved her off. "I need to take more long unannounced breaks anyway, if I'm ever gonna make it into the self-important douchebag big leagues." Claire chuckled at him, and he smirked in turn. "How are things working out for you this side of 110th?"

"Eh. You know," Claire replied with a shrug. "People still need stitching up, and talking down. Same as always. It's not glamorous, but someone's gotta do it."

"And it's gotta be you, right?"

"Doesn't it always?" she snickered, leaning down to blow on her soup. "…So, I've got a favor to ask of you."

"Ask away."

"Involving our mutual friend."

He froze for a moment, taken a little off-guard. "…Oh."

"It's, uh." She threw up one hand. "Sorry. I went to him first. I figured he owed me a favor."

"Is this about Luke Cage?"

Claire raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

"Matt told me you asked him to represent Luke Cage. I take it you two are close?"

"Ha." She bit her bottom lip, considering. "Yeah. You could say that. Things… got cut a little short between us."

"Yeah. Life likes to screw you over just to make sure things never get too comfortable."

"Oh my God; you're telling me."

They shared a laugh, and Foggy cupped his hands on the table.

"So, what's up? Do you not think Matt's doing a good job with the case?"

"Try: he's not doing any job. Trust me; I wasn't eager about calling you for help. But Luke told me he hasn't been able to get ahold of Matt in weeks."

"…Weeks? No. Matt may not have his priorities straight, but he wouldn't just vanish. He was just down in Georgia working."

"If he was, he never bothered to tell Luke about it."

"He should have met with Luke in person during the trip, there's no way he would have…"

"I don't know what to tell you. Luke never heard from him."

"That doesn't make any sense. He…" Foggy trailed off, running through possibilities in his head, before settling on one and slumping back in his seat. "…Agh. Oh, my God. Evie goddamn Sheppard… I'm such an idiot…"

"…Who?"

"It doesn't matter," Foggy replied sharply. "I… think Matt might be in danger."

Claire raised an eyebrow. "You mean, more than usual?"

"Yeah. More than usual."

"What do you think happened to him?"

"It's a long story." Foggy looked down at the table, drumming his fingers along it anxiously. "Uh… there were rumors about this… guy. The police denied them, but, uh…" He shrugged. "Mind control. I know how it sounds."

He looked up, making eye contact with her, and she shook her head with disbelief, allowing herself a loud scoff.

"You have got to be kidding me," Claire said matter-of-factly.

"I wish I was."

"No. I mean." She sighed loudly. "You're talking about Kilgrave."

"I- what?" Foggy found himself at a loss for words for a moment. "You mean you know about him?"

"Oh, I know about him alright. He's real. Luke had an encounter with him. We had thought he was dead…"

"…But if he exists, he could have manipulated the story."

"Dammit, you sound just like Luke."

Foggy furrowed his brow. "I'd like to know what happened to Luke."

"I'd like to know what happened to Matt!" Claire exclaimed, sitting straight up. "You think Kilgrave got ahold of him somehow? How did that happen?"

Put-off, Foggy put a hand to his forehead and shook his head, trying to figure out how to begin. "If he's real, then-"

"He's real."

Foggy looked straight up. "I told Matt to go after him. I was worried about a friend."

"And then he disappeared."

"Yeah. And just recently someone called me up to try and convince me that everything was alright with him. That he was working on Luke's case."

Claire closed her eyes, taking a long breath. "…Luke and I just spoke about him. Kilgrave. Luke is convinced now that he's still alive."

Foggy hesitated. "…And what did you tell him?"

"I told him that the best thing for us to do right now is to focus on the problems that we are able to solve."

She peered down the table at him with a grimly serious expression.

Contemplative, Foggy nodded once. "What can I do to help?"

"Luke needs help with his legal situation."

Foggy narrowed his eyes. "Isn't he, um… serving time for…?"

"He's innocent, Foggy. But I can do better than that." She pushed the folder at her side forward with one hand, allowing Foggy to open it and skim through. "It's undeniable. These documents can get his sentence overturned; Matt already acknowledged that when he was handling Luke's case."

"I mean… I can't make any promises." Foggy raised a hand from the open folder, frowning. "I'd need to take the time review his case file for myself, and put together an appeal…"

"But you'll do it?"

"I- I'll see what I can do."

"What's your rate?"

"Oh, trust me, a lot more than I am willing to impose on you." Foggy gave a light smile. "I can take the case pro-bono. HCB gives me a lot of freedom with my clients. One extra little bit of paperwork won't hurt anybody. Except me. But late nights and not getting paid were like my lifeblood back at Nelson and Murdock."

Impressed, she smiled at him, eyes lowering. "Well… you're doing the right thing."

"I'm trying to."

Foggy gave a bleak smile, which Claire pursed her lips at.

"Listen," she explained. "Kilgrave is Luke's top concern right now, whether I like it or not. Trust me. When he gets out of prison… there aren't many people you'd rather have in your corner."

"I appreciate that, but I don't need to put anyone else in danger," Foggy mumbled, reading through the folder in front of him.

"Trust me; what's dangerous to you and me is a lot less dangerous to Luke. And he's going to go after Kilgrave regardless," she added with a shrug.

"It could be a long time before Luke is out on the streets again. Getting a murder charge overturned isn't exactly something you do overnight."

"What, then? You're gonna hunt down Kilgrave yourself in the meantime? Are you bulletproof, too?" He looked her straight in the eye, and she shot him a sharp glare, one she was particularly practiced at giving. "Look. Sometimes you need to know where you're needed most. Where you can really make a difference." She patted two fingers on the folder of evidence. "For you, this is it. You are a kickass lawyer, Foggy. I've seen you in action myself. If we are going to get Kilgrave, this is how you help us do it. Not by rushing in headfirst and picking a fight you can't possibly win."

She widened her eyes at him expectantly, and he thought for a few moments about how to respond.

Eventually, he conceded. "…Okay. You're right."

"I always am!" Claire exclaimed, throwing up both hands. "So many problems could be avoided if more people realized that."

"I guess too many people want to be the hero."

"I think too many people have too narrow a definition of that word."

With one final smirk and a nod, Foggy closed the folder and tucked it under his arm, pulling his seat out.

Claire gestured to the table in front of her. "That's it? What, you're not going to eat?"

"Sorry. I had some early dinner plans." He stood from his chair. "I'll review Luke's file in the office tomorrow. He can contact me from prison. Can you give him my office number?"

"Can do."

"Great. Then we'll be in touch. Deal?"

"Yeah. Deal." Amused, she rolled her eyes, swirling her spoon around in her soup. "See you around, counselor."

He patted the folder under his arm with a deep breath. "Stay safe."

"You've reached Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz. This is Amanda. How can I help you?"

Foggy leaned over his dashboard as he turned a corner, speaking into the Bluetooth speakerphone in his car.

"Hi, Amanda, this is Foggy. Could you-?"

"-Marci?"

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. "…Yeah. Marci."

"Bad news?"

"Bad news."

"I'll try to be diplomatic."

The other line clicked as Marci picked up, after a few brief moments on hold. "Foggy Bear! What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey, that almost didn't sound sarcastic."

"What can I say?" replied Marci, amused with herself. "Maybe you're growing on me."

"My heart just skipped a beat."

"How have you been? Did you meet with that nurse you mentioned?"

"Yeah, Claire. She, uh, she got me a new client. Sort of."

"How do you 'sort of' get a new client?"

"I kinda took the case pro-bono."

"Wow. Wooow." Marci snickered affectionately at him. "Bloodthirsty shark, you are not, my friend."

"Bah! I can be a shark. Maybe not so rough around the edges." He smacked his lips. "Dolphin?"

His car slowed to a stop next to the sidewalk, and he disconnected his cell phone from the car's speaker to speak through the receiver.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you," Marci said cheerfully. "I'll be out of work as soon as I can. Then I just need to change into something a little skimpier."

"…Yeah. About that."

Cradling his phone against his shoulder, Foggy shut his car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, looking up at the apartment in front of him.

Marci scoffed at him as he stepped inside the building. "You're kidding me."

Foggy groaned quietly. "Something came up."

"Something comes up half the time we have a date scheduled. You are not that busy, Foggy; I have the same amount of clients that you do, and I find the time."

"I'm sorry, Marci. Really, I am. I'll make it up to you. But it's important."

She sighed loudly on the other end. "You owe me one."

"And I don't doubt that you'll cash in on that."

"Yeah. You shouldn't."

He chuckled. "Good night, Marci."

"See you tomorrow."

Hanging up, Foggy tucked his phone into his suit pocket, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

In front of him stood the door to Matt's apartment, like a barricade in front of an impenetrable fortress.

"Okay. Aaand we're doing this again," Foggy muttered to himself.

With a sigh, he marched up to the door, knocking twice. "Matt? It's Foggy." He pounded his fist against the door. "For God's sake, come to the door. Matt!"

Nothing.

"God damn it." He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. "Alright! I'm coming in. Not waiting around! You hear me? If you're in there, you can't say I didn't warn you!"

He tried the front door- locked, as expected. He headed up to the roof access to try the upper door instead.

A minute later, he reappeared at the top of the stairs to the roof, descending with a crestfallen expression. Wringing his hands, he paced in front of the front door, muttering under his breath.

"Agh…" Eyes closed, he pressed his forehead against the door, fed up. "Why. Why do you do these things…?" He slammed his shoulder into the door, which shook from the blow without budging. "Oh, yeah, don't call 911, Foggy, he might get arrested… don't tell Karen, Foggy, she's just the only person as close to him as you are…" He slammed into the door again, stumbling backward as it stayed firmly shut. "Agh! Shit…"

"What's going on out here?"

Foggy jumped at the sudden voice, throwing up his hands and peering down the hall the one who called out to him. It was an old woman, one of the other inhabitants of the penthouse.

"Ahh… uh…" Foggy trailed off, weakly raising one hand in greeting. "Uh… hi, Fran."

"What are you doing?" she asked with a harsh glare.

"I, uh. It's not what it looks like. I'm just…" He looked back at the door. "Uh… trying to… break into my friend's apartment."

"That is what it looks like."

"Yeah. Fair enough." He scratched behind his head. "I'm sorry. I'm worried about him. I swear it's-"

"You're going to break your arm doing that," she interrupted. "And please. I've seen you here a million times. I know you're friends. I haven't seen him around in a long time. If you're worried, I'm sure you have a good reason to be. I don't need to know more than that." Half-rolling her eyes, Fran opened one hand, revealing a house key in her palm. "Here. He gave me a spare key not all that long ago. In case of emergencies."

"Oh, man. You are a lifesaver." Foggy scurried over to Fran's door, taking the key from her hand. "…Not literally. I hope."

"Please. Keep that. You need it way more than I do." She hesitated for a moment, turning to return to her apartment. "And I don't need the trouble…"

"Thank you! Love ya, Fran!"

Fran shut her apartment door, and Foggy chuckled to himself, returning to Matt's front door with the spare key in hand.

After fiddling with the lock for a few moments, the door creaked open, and Foggy stepped into the dark empty hall, tucking the key into his spare pocket. Ominously quiet…

"Matt…?" He peered around the wall before stepping into the living room, arms hanging at his sides. "Where…?"

The apartment was in perfect condition, to his relief. Furniture totally in order… but all the blinds were down. Foggy opened them, letting in the obnoxious purple light from the billboard across the street.

Foggy ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, leaning against the window and glancing around the room a second time. His eyes settled on the bedroom door, which was shut.

"C'mon, Matt… don't be dead…" He stepped away from the windows, clasping his hands together. "Please don't be dead…"

His hand, shaking slightly, settled on the bedroom door, and he slid it open, wincing in anticipation of the sight.

…This room was empty, too. He let out a deep breath and stepped inside, taking a look around.

The bed was unmade, and the sheets were strewn about like they usually were the night after Matt had a woman over. Foggy narrowed his eyes, turning away.

A drawer on Matt's dresser hung open, almost pulled out. Foggy knelt to take a look- totally empty. Pulling open the other drawers, he found that they were all empty too- cleared out. Like someone had left in a hurry.

"What…?" He shut the drawers and stood, mouth slowly curving into a frown. "What are you up to, Matt…?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets, wandering back out of the bedroom, and his eyes trailed along the walls until they settled on the armoire. He approached with slow steps, reaching hesitantly out of his pockets to open it.

The box at the bottom of Matt's armoire lay flat, shut tight. Foggy rattled it quietly before opening it, looking over the emblazoned boxing gear on top with a grimace. Digging through it with one hand, he moved the boxing gloves out of the way, setting them aside.

There was nothing else inside. The Daredevil suit was gone.

Foggy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Damn it… god damn it…" He slumped the rest of the way onto the floor, turning to rest his back against the open armoire. "Matt… where the hell areyou…?"

Some of Foggy's hair fell over his face, the sweat on his forehead mussing up his hairstyle.

Eyes closed, he rested his head against the wall behind him, waiting for Karen to come to the door. He was in yet another apartment, spoiling his dinner plans.

"Who is it?" shouted Karen's voice through the door, filled with concern- almost more like paranoia.

Foggy jumped at the noise and stepped away from the wall, positioning himself in front of the door to make himself visible in the peephole.

The door opened only a crack at the sight of him, and Karen's face appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, is this a bad time?" Foggy cleared his throat. "I, uh… I could come back later."

Karen narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing here, Foggy?"

"I thought I'd stop by. See how you're doing." He shrugged. "Like I said, if it's a bad time, I'll go."

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, lowering to the plastic in his hands. "…What's in the bag?"

"Oh. I, uh, I got takeout." Foggy raised the bag in his hand to show her. "Peanut chicken, and, uh, shrimp chow fun. Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Well, then it works out. Mind if I come in?"

"Why? To see how I'm doing?" Karen scoffed. "I don't need you to protect me, Foggy, so you can stop-"

"I didn't say you did."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

Foggy took a long sigh, scratching his nose. "Because you're my friend, Karen! We've barely been speaking. I can't just look out for a friend?"

She scoffed quietly and studied him for a while, brow furrowed.

He threw up his hands. "It's free food! If nothing else. C'mon. You can't make me eat all this myself. You know I'd do it, and then think how sick I'd feel tomorrow morning." He flashed her an optimistic smile.

Karen shut the door in his face, and he groaned, putting a hand to his forehead.

As he turned to leave, the deadbolt clacked on the other side of the door, and it swung all the way open.

Karen waved him inside. "Alright. Come in."

Foggy sighed with relief, stepping past her through the door. "Thanks, Karen."

He closed the door quietly behind him as she led him into the apartment. Most of the lights were either off or oppressively dim, giving the whole place an eerie grim feel.

He set the bag of food down on the counter of her kitchenette, and she took a seat at her kitchen table, not taking her eyes off of him for a moment.

"Uh… how are you holding up?" Foggy asked after a minute, digging the plastic containers of food out of the bag and laying them out.

Karen looked at the floor. "Um. Fine. You?"

"I'm okay."

"How are things at the, uh… the big firm? HCB?"

"Oh. Different. Different clientele." Foggy glanced into one of her cabinets to find a couple of plates. "I still feel like I'm doing good for people."

"That's good to hear."

Foggy scooped rice onto two plates, opening up the rest of the containers. "Chicken or shrimp?"

"Um. Shrimp."

"Shrimp it is."

She leaned in close to smell the plate of food as Foggy served it to her, laying down some for each of them as he took a seat next to her at the table.

"What have you been up to? I mean, after leaving the Bulletin?" Foggy asked quietly, digging into his food. "You sounded like you had something else lined up."

"No, I just…" Karen trailed off, brushing a little bit of hair behind her ear. "I've been, uh, working as a secretary. Nothing big. Pay's alright…"

They exchanged a glance. Seeing Foggy eat, Karen dug a fork into her own food, still visibly anxious. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Foggy watched his friend with obvious concern.

"So…" Foggy sat up a little, clearing his throat. "I just came from Matt's apartment."

Karen widened her eyes, lifting her head from her plate. "Oh? Did you speak with him?"

"He wasn't there," he replied bluntly. "In, fact, it seems like he's not even living there at the moment. All his clothes are missing, like he packed up and left in a hurry. Apparently nobody has seen him in weeks. I know I haven't."

"I haven't spoken to him either."

"I figured…"

"I don't…" Karen swallowed once, shaking her head. "…I mean… maybe he took a vacation or something…?"

"I don't think so." Foggy grimaced, hesitant to continue. "…Wherever he went, he took the suit with him."

"The, uh…?"

"Yeah. The one with the horns."

"Agh." Karen gave a depressed nod. "…I, uh. I got an email. From Ellison- he's been trying to get me to come back to the newspaper. He's sent me a few stories that he thought I'd, uh…" She shook her head. "Anyway, there were these gangbangers. Drug dealers, peddling heroin or something. Three of them were found dead at the scene, but two others were badly beaten but still alive. They're under police protection now. And they- both of them- swear on their lives that it was Daredevil that was the killer. They say they saw it happen."

Foggy looked right at her. "…Do you believe it? That it was Matt?"

"It couldn't be. He isn't… he's never been a killer. You remember how much he clashed with Frank Castle. He wouldn't do something like that…"

"Maybe he would."

Karen stared with disbelief. "Foggy…"

He groaned, looking away from her. "After you came to me about that article you were working on, about Kilgrave-"

"-Foggy, I don't want to get into-"

"-After I refused to help you, and you looked into it on your own, I thought about what you said, about how people might get hurt. I was feeling guilty. And then you called me up, left me the weirdest message… that you were abandoning the job with the Bulletin that you'd worked so hard for, just like that-"

"That was my decision, Foggy."

"Was it?" He set down his fork firmly on his plate, turning his chair to face her. "Ellison told me you went to the police. Brett told me there were strange things going on with the suspects you were looking into for your story."

"You were spying on me?" Karen scoffed loudly, turning likewise to face him. "You went behind my back to look into what I was doing? You had no right-"

"-I panicked. I thought it was my fault." Foggy closed his eyes, trembling a little. "…I went to Matt."

"…What…?"

"I went to Matt. I told him to look into the Kilgrave story himself." Foggy raised his fingers to his head, making horns. "In the horns. I asked him to do it again. And I haven't seen him since. Nobody has seen him since. He's vanished."

Karen blinked, at a loss for words. "I… I'm not sure what to…"

"You can't talk about him, can you? Kilgrave? He's… somehow he's stopped you from…"

She shot him a sharp glare, opening and closing her mouth but saying nothing.

"If Kilgrave did run into Matt… do you think that could be what happened to the dead drug dealers? You think… Kilgrave could be using him somehow?" Foggy bit his lip. "Using Daredevil, I mean…?"

She blinked, but said nothing.

Foggy continued. "And. You leaving the Bulletin. Abandoning the story. That was all…"

She furrowed her brow at him, but said nothing.

"Karen. Kilgrave came to the police station. So…" Foggy looked at the floor, resigned. "Those cops from the fifteenth that got killed. All their deaths… do you think… that could be what happened to them?" Foggy tugged at his collar uncomfortably. "Do you think… that's… what happened to Brett?"

They exchanged a brief glance.

And Karen burst into tears, covering her mouth with both hands.

Foggy was nearly on the verge of tears himself, and sucked in his breath as he pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes tightly shut as she sobbed- unable to speak.

He patted her gently on the back, breathing heavily with a dark frown. "Karen… what are we going to do…?"

She rested against his shoulder for a long time, and neither of them said anything.

Eventually, after what felt like ages, she pulled away from him, and the two of them looked each other in the eye.

"W- we… we need to keep our distance from each other," Karen said shakily. "We just need to." She looked him in the eye, frowning seriously. "…You need to. I mean it, Foggy… you don't need to… get tied up in…"

She struggled to find the right words, eventually trailing off and covering her mouth again.

Foggy scratched behind his head, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

Unable to properly speak to each other, the two of them simply sat across from each other for a long time, the lights in the apartment dim and foreboding.