Heather stretched in the bed, enjoying the ability to properly do so. I should get a queen. She always had the same thought whenever she stayed with Wilson, but then she'd go home to her apartment, observe the size of her bedroom, and decide to stick with her twin bed instead. A queen just wouldn't leave enough space to be worth it. But oh, she did enjoy the chance to sleep in one.

She blinked her eyes open and noted the amount of sunlight coming through the curtains. She'd slept in much later than she normally let herself, but considering what had happened the night before, Heather felt the indulgence was warranted. She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as they brushed over the small but tender knot on the back of her head where the would-be mugger had shoved her into the wall.

If that's the worst I have to worry about, I should count myself lucky.

Heather took her time getting ready for the day, lingering in the shower, taking time with her hair and makeup after. Once dressed, she went ahead and repacked everything in her bag and made up the bed she'd used. She knew Wilson would insist on her staying for breakfast – well, brunch at this point – but after that she'd need to go ahead and head home. Tomorrow was Monday, and Heather had things she needed to do to get ready for work.

She left the guest room and made her way to the kitchen, where she wasn't surprised to find Wilson already up and dressed, sitting at the table and reading through the newspaper. He looked up when she entered. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better this morning," Heather answered honestly. She didn't mention the bump on the back of her head. It would only upset him to know about it, and there was no point in upsetting him when there wasn't anything he could do.

There was coffee in the coffee pot already, and Heather made a beeline for it. As she poured herself a cup, she noticed a box of bagels from her favorite bakery. "Oh, Wilson, you didn't have to do that."

"I'd think today of all days, I could spoil you without you complaining," Wilson said.

Heather huffed a little, going to the fridge to get creamer for her coffee and cream cheese for her bagels. "You always try to spoil me," she pointed out. She was fairly certain it was partially because of their age difference. Wilson had been ten when Heather was born.

"That boy fell in love with you right there in the delivery room," her mother used to say fondly. "One would have thought you were the most precious baby in the whole world, the way he treated you." This was usually followed by her ruffling Heather's hair and adding with a wink, "Willy was right, of course."

"And you rarely let me," Wilson replied.

Heather shrugged and took a bite of her bagel. It was no longer warm, but it was soft enough that she knew they must have been made that morning. Heavenly. She carried her plate and cup to the table and sat down across from Wilson.

Wilson folded up the newspaper and set it aside. "Heather," he said, "I have been thinking this morning. After the events of last night, perhaps you should look into moving."

She was shaking her head before he'd even finished speaking. "We've had this talk before, Wilson. I like where I'm at, and it's not a bad part of town."

"It's not the best either, as last night clearly shows." His brows drew down as he spoke.

"Last night was a fluke," Heather said. "I've walked down that same alley a million times and nothing bad ever happened. It was just wrong place, wrong time. Besides, I can't afford to live in a nicer area. And before you say it, no, I'm not going to let you rent me a different apartment."

He'd suggested the option before, and Heather always turned it down. She knew Wilson was rich enough that he could easily afford it. He could afford to pay for anything she could possibly want, and he'd be willing to do it if Heather asked. Wilson had always been generous with her. But Heather wasn't comfortable with the idea of living off of Wilson's money. She'd earn her own way.

Wilson sighed, apparently recognizing that this argument at least was a lost cause. "If you aren't open to moving," he said, "would you at least consider allowing me to hire some security for you?"

Heather paused in the act of raising her coffee to her lips. "You want to hire a bodyguard for me?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"Wilson," she groaned, "I don't need a bodyguard!"

"You could have used one last night," Wilson said. He rested his arms on the table, lacing his fingers together. "If that man in the mask hadn't been there, you could have been seriously injured, Heather. Please, even if you feel like you don't need one, at least consider it for my own peace of mind."

She took another bite of her bagel and chewed slowly. She still didn't like the idea. The night before had just been bad luck. She didn't need someone following her around all the time. But she didn't want to argue with Wilson, not today. "I'll think about it," she finally said. She held up a hand to point at him. "But I'm only thinking about it. That's not a yes."

"Very well," he said with a nod.

Heather's ringtone went off with the particular chirpy tune she'd set to let her know that it was an unsaved number calling. She quickly hopped out of her seat to get her phone, glad for an excuse to walk away from the conversation about getting her a bodyguard. She'd left it back in the room she'd slept in.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ms. Fisk?" a man's voice asked. It was familiar, but she couldn't place it immediately.

"It is," she answered.

"This is Sergeant Mahoney," the man identified himself. Heather recognized the name in an instant, bringing to mind the image of the black police officer who'd responded to her call and been so kind to her the night before.

"Yes, of course," she said. "What can I do for you, Sergeant Mahoney?"

"I wanted to let you know that we caught the man who attacked you last night."

Surprise flashed through her, followed by a relief so great it made her knees weak. Heather sank down onto the edge of the bed. "You did?"

"Yes. He was still in the alleyway when my partner and I checked it out last night. I waited for him to wake up to confirm his identity before calling you."

Heather absorbed the implications of those words for a moment. The man in the mask must have beaten the mugger into unconsciousness if he'd still been there for the police to find him. She swallowed, a little unnerved by the idea of that level of violence, but mostly relieved to know that the mugger wouldn't be able to attack her or anyone else again.

"I appreciate you letting me know," Heather said. An alarming thought occurred to her and she asked, "You don't need me to come in and identify him, do you?" The attack wasn't enough to make her want to move, or want a bodyguard like Wilson suggested, but Heather wasn't really prepared to come face to face with her attacker again.

"No ma'am," Sergeant Mahoney said, quick to reassure her. "We got a confession, so that won't be necessary. But there is some paperwork that needs to be taken care of, if you could come down to the station today. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes of your time."

Heather's heart slowed back down. She could handle paperwork. "Okay, yeah, I can definitely do that."

"Great," Sergeant Mahoney said. "When you get here, just ask whoever is at the desk for me."

"Alright, I guess I'll be seeing you soon then," Heather said awkwardly.

"See you soon," Sergeant Mahoney said, what sounded like a laugh in his voice.

Heather hit the end call button and let out a long breath. They got him. And if the mugger had been in that bad of shape, then that meant the man in the mask was probably okay. That thought was a relief too. Heather hated the idea of someone getting hurt trying to help her.

She stood, slipping her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and picking up her purse and overnight bag. She figured she may as well head on down to the station and get this taken care of now. Heather knew herself well enough to know that when she made it back to her apartment, she wasn't going to want to leave for the rest of the day.

Wilson was at the sink rinsing off her dishes, and Heather felt a flicker of guilt. She'd have taken care of them if he'd waited. "That was Sergeant Mahoney on the phone," she told him. That had Wilson's instant attention. "He said they caught the guy that tried to mug me. I need to head to the station for some paperwork."

"I can come with you," Wilson offered, but Heather shook her head.

"Thanks, but I can handle this. It's just some paperwork." His phone started buzzing on the counter, and Wilson looked down at it with a distracted frown. "Looks like you're about to be busy anyway."

"Then I'll have my driver take you," Wilson said. "I won't take no for an answer on that one, Heather."

"Okay, I'll give you that one," Heather said. She flashed a teasing grin. "But only this once."

His face softened. "Of course."

Once she was ensconced in the car and on her way to the police station, it occurred to Heather that she hadn't told her friends yet about what had happened. She bit her lip, wondering if she could just not mention it. They'd kick up a worried fuss, and Wilson did that enough on his own. Heather didn't want more people fussing over her. She wanted to just put the incident behind her and forget it had happened. But if she didn't tell them, and they somehow found out about it later, they'd be even more upset. Better to just head it off now and get it over with.

Heather pulled out her phone and sent out a text in the group chat that she, Dominique, Becky, and Maria kept running.

I'm OKAY but a guy tried to mug me on my way home last night. I'M OKAY. The police have him I'm on my way to the station to fill out some paperwork. - H

The response was near immediate, all of them wanting to know what had happened, was she really okay, and why was she only just telling them this now?

Heather summed up the events of the previous night in as few words as she could manage, again assuring them that she was just fine.

Thank goodness mask dude was there! Hope he left that jerk with some broken bones . - B

Next time I offer you a ride you're taking it! No one walks home anymore! – D

Do you need anything? I can come stay with you tonight if you want – M

Heather smiled a little at their responses. Much as she didn't want them to fuss over her, their concern still warmed her.

I'm fine don't need anything. I'll keep you all updated. – H

"We're here, Ms. Fisk," the driver said.

Heather looked up from her phone to see that they had indeed arrived at the police station. "Thank you. I shouldn't be long."

She got out of the car and headed for the front door of the police station. Inside, the building was fairly busy. There was someone already speaking to the desk sergeant, so Heather waited patiently in line for them to finish. Once it was her turn, she approached the desk and said, "Um, hi. I'm here to see Sergeant Mahoney. I'm Heather Fisk; he's expecting me."

"Sure thing, Ms. Fisk," the desk sergeant said. "I'll let him know you're here, if you'll just have a seat."

Heather took a seat on the bench up against the wall, tapping her foot as she waited. It felt like forever, but eventually she saw Sergeant Mahoney coming and she stood to greet him.

"Sorry for making you wait," he said, holding out a hand to shake. "It's been a little crazy here today."

"It's no problem," she assured him, taking his hand. The handshake was firm but brief, and then he was leading her back to his desk.

"Like I said on the phone, this shouldn't take too long."

He was right; he walked her through the forms she needed, and in about ten minutes they were done. "Okay, you're all set."

Heather gathered up her purse, but hesitated before she stood. "Um, Sergeant Mahoney, when you went back to the alley, did you…did you seen any evidence about the man in mask?"

He shook his head. "Nope. He was long gone by the time we got there." Sergeant Mahoney paused for a second, looking as though he was considering whether or not to mention the next part. "He did end up having a busy night though. Couple hours after your incident, three women showed up, saying a man in a black mask saved them from traffickers."

She felt her eyes widen at the news. "Seriously?"

Sergeant Mahoney nodded. "Yep."

"Wow," Heather said.

He frowned. "That's one word for it."

"You don't sound too happy about it," Heather noted, wondering why.

"Don't get me wrong," Sergeant Mahoney said holding up his hands. "I'm glad he saved you, and those other women. But vigilantes can be unpredictable. We have laws for a reason, and vigilantes work outside of that. There's always a big risk that one day they'll cross a line they shouldn't, or that they'll bite off more than they can chew and get bystanders hurt."

"I suppose," Heather said. She wasn't sure she agreed with Sergeant Mahoney's assessment. The man in the mask had saved her last night, and then gone on to save three other women, all at personal risk to himself. The way she saw it, his actions were to be commended, not looked upon with suspicion. She didn't really want to get into a debate about it though, so Heather let it go.

Sergeant Mahoney escorted her back to the entrance. "You still doing okay?" he asked her. His question seemed genuine, rather than just professional small talk.

"I am," Heather said. "I took your advice, and stayed with my brother last night. And you guys caught the mugger, so um, I'm good."

"Glad to hear it." Sergeant Mahoney smiled at her. "You take care of yourself, Ms. Fisk."

"I will," Heather said. She waved goodbye at him looking over her shoulder as she reached for the door. Someone on the other side chose that moment to pull it open, and when her hand didn't meet the resistance she expected, she stumbled forward into the person with a surprised 'oof'.

"Sorry," she said, taking a hasty step back as she looked at the man she'd bumped into. He was tall, his smile charming, though his eyes were hidden behind dark, round sunglasses. He didn't quite look at her as he spoke, his gaze seeming to go somewhere over her right shoulder.

"My fault, I'm sure," he said.

"I'd say so," another man that Heather hadn't noticed right away added. He was slightly shorter than the first, with shaggy blond hair, and an expressive face as he sighed and shook his head. "I've told you to let me handle the doors so we can avoid this very scenario."

Heather was momentarily confused by the second man's statement, until her brain finally registered the distinctive white cane in the first man's hand. Heat suffused her face as Heather realized she'd just walked into a blind man.

"No, I should have been paying attention," Heather said. "I'm so sorry."

Before either of them could respond, Sergeant Mahoney's voice cut through the conversation. "Foggy, are you and your partner just going to stand there letting the heat out all day, or are you going to let the lady leave?"

"We're coming in!" the blond man – presumably Foggy – said. "Come on, Matt, before Brett gets too cranky."

Heather moved out of their way so they could come in, and the blind man – Matt – smiled in her general direction. "Have a nice day, miss."

"You too," Heather answered automatically. Her face was still hot from the awkward encounter. She made a beeline for the door, then went down the steps and to the car. The driver saw her coming, and got out of the vehicle to hold the door open for her.

"Where to now, Ms. Fisk?" he asked as she slid into the backseat.

"Home, please," she said. There she could throw herself into her preparations for the next day's lessons, and hopefully just forget about the previous night's events.

That might have been a little mean of me, Matt thought ruefully as he listened to Ms. Fisk leave the station. Certainly, it hadn't been his intention to embarrass her, though if he'd thought it through he'd have realized that of course she'd be embarrassed about bumping into him. But when he'd recognized her, he hadn't been able to resist. He'd never actually met someone after saving them, and he'd wanted a chance to make sure she was alright.

She seemed to be, so far as he could tell. He'd noticed a small bump on the back of her head, but that was her only injury. She'd been calm – before bumping into him and dealing with the subsequent embarrassment. She'd eaten that morning: coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. He hoped her relative calm and the fact that she'd taken time to eat meant she was doing okay emotionally. She'd been understandably terrified the night before.

"Uh, hello, earth to Matt. You still with me?"

"Sorry, Foggy," Matt said, realizing his friend had been speaking to him. "What was that?"

Foggy let out a heavy sigh. "You can't get this distracted just because a pretty woman bumped into you. We're about to meet our first client! Hopefully. If she hires us."

"She was pretty?" Matt asked innocently. He grinned when the question elicited the groan he was hoping for. "Alright, I'm here, I'm focused."

Pleased as he'd been to run into Ms. Fisk, she wasn't the woman he'd come to see. No, he was there for one Karen Page; a woman standing accused of murder. Let's see what we've got now.

AN: So we get a look at Heather and Wilson's relationship, Heather and Matt meet each other (sort of), and most importantly, Matt hears her name! A big thank you to those of you that have reviewed/followed/favorited. I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story :)