Hello my readers (if anyone's still here)! I'm sorry for the late update but this has not been my week. I've been busy and lazy and unmotivated and just not myself. So I've made the executive decision that since I'm working on three fics at the same time, I am going to post every two weeks instead of every week. Not only does it not stress me, but it gives me time to actually plan what I'm doing with each fic more. So yeah! Enough of my words! Onto the chapter!

I own nothing!

Matt is yanked back to consciousness by the sound of screaming. Loud, terror-filled wails that vibrate in Matt's ears and sends his heightened senses over the edge. He covers his ears in a poor attempt at blocking out the sound, trying to push his other senses out to find out what's going on. The screams are overwhelming, however, and he can barely process anything over it. He can hear the violent thrashing on the couch, though, so his mind automatically turns to Leslie.

He sits up and practically leaps off the bed, still clutching his ears as he makes his way to the source of the screams. "Leslie!" he says once he reaches her side, uncovering his ears to reach out for her. "Leslie!"

He manages to grab one of her wrists, but that only sends her into an even more violent panic. Her thrashing kicks up and she pulls her hand back, kicking out with her cast covered leg to push Matt back. The blind man narrowly manages to jump away from the attack before the cast whooshes by the area he just occupied. He hears the broken leg bone crunch and grind when it passes by, and the scent of blood is stronger than it was earlier, leading Matt to believe that she's reopening the wounds Claire closed last night.

"Leslie!" he calls again, reaching out and taking a firmer hold on her wrists when he grabs them a second time. "Leslie! Calm down!"

The teen attempts to pull away again but Matt tightens his grip, causing her screams to choke out and die in her throat. All at once, her fighting stops and she falls limp, all signs of previous struggling gone. Her heart's still pounding in her chest and her breathing is erratic, so Matt decides it's a hard learned defense technique.

The thought hits hard and Matt releases her wrist, allowing her arms to drop haphazardly wherever they do. "Leslie," he tries again, struggling to keep his voice even instead of flooded with worry. "Leslie breathe. It's okay. You're okay." No response, save the labored breathing and pounding heart that always make sound, at least in Matt's ears.

"Leslie," he says again, taking a hesitant step backwards. "Les-"

Claire is here. Her scent was overwhelmed when he was in close range of Leslie's blood, but now he can detect faint traces of her perfume and the hospital as she makes her way up the stairs. Matt almost releases a deep sigh of relief, but decides he might scare Leslie with the sudden noise. "Claire's here," he informs, earning a sharp inhale from Leslie in response. He opens his mouth to continue, but shuts it when he comes up short.

Claire knocks on the door a few seconds later and it takes all Matt has not to sprint to answer. He nearly rips the door off the hinges when he opens it and makes Claire jump with the energy. "I think Leslie's having another attack," he informs, earning the practical nurse response from Claire. The relaxed muscles. The straightened back. The tightened jaw. She almost knocks Matt backwards when she shoves her bag in his hands and moves forward.

"Leslie," she says gently when she reaches the living room threshold. "Hey sweetie. It's okay, baby." Matt follows as she reaches Leslie's side and crouches down. The nurse presses the back of her hand to Leslie's forehead, but the teen doesn't respond. No tension. No change in breathing. Not even flinching away from the contact. Matt clenches a fist when he realizes how bad whatever happened with the Russians actually was. If shutting down on this level is a defense technique, he doesn't want to know what the attack was.

"She's burning up," Claire mutters, shifting her hand to rest on Leslie's neck. "Matt. Get me a cold rag or something," she instructs, pulling the blanket off Leslie and tossing it aside. "It's okay, baby. Breathe."

Matt sets the bag on the coffee table and does as told, walking to the hall closet to retrieve a washcloth. He runs it under cold water in the bathroom and returns when it's cold and damp. He taps Claire's shoulder twice and hands her the rag, placing it in her hand as she soothes Leslie. The nurse gently dabs Leslie's face, head, and neck with the rag, continuously reminding her that she's safe and to breathe deeply.

After what feels like an hour, Leslie does calm down slightly, breathing still rapid but more evened out and heart rate lowered considerably. Matt knows that both are still well above healthy levels, but they never seem to lower to those levels. "Better?" Claire asks, helping Leslie sit up. The teen doesn't respond, only clasps her hands together in her lap to try and stop the harsh trembling. "I guess not..." Claire answers herself, shifting to turn to Matt. "Could you cool this down again?" she asks, extending the half-folded rag to the vigilante.

It takes a second for Matt to process that she was talking to him, so he jumps a bit when Claire repeats his name. "Oh," he says, taking the lukewarm cloth from his friend to start back to the bathroom. He knows he's moving mechanically, he can feel it. Every fiber of his being stiffly shifts from one form to the next as he as he walks -or marches, he can't tell- down the hall and turns into the bathroom.

Claire passes an excuse to Leslie then stands and follows Matt down the hall. "You're scaring Leslie," she informs from the bathroom doorway, voice barely coming over a whisper but ringing clear in Matt's ears. "She sees your nerves and it's making her nervous."

Matt runs the washcloth under the cold water for about a minute before turning off the tap and wringing it out. "I'm sorry," he says, resting both hands on the counter. "This is just too much." Claire's face shifts so that an eyebrow is raised and she waits for Matt to continue. "The way I found her... The constant pounding heartbeat... The way she can't be spoken to without...leaping out of her skin. She's so fragile and I don't think I can handle it..."

Claire pauses at his confession, mouth gaping slightly in search of the right words. "I understand," she settles after a moment. "It is a lot to handle, especially with everything else you probably have to deal with." She steps forward and rests a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Maybe...it's time to turn her over to the authorities?"

Matt shakes his head and turns to face her. "She won't go," he states, taking her hand and lowering it to her side. "She already said no to anything I suggested except coming here." He inhales deeply and tries to relax himself. "I can't do this, Claire. It's been one night and a day and I already feel more stressed than ever."

"Matt-"

"I can't turn her over Claire," he says, tightening his grip with the words. "Who knows what'll happen to her if I do."

"Matt-"

"And I can't keep her here," he continues, becoming more anxious as he presses on. "Her heart is...constantly pounding. Loudly at that-"

"Matthew," Claire whispers loudly, stopping Matt before he can go any further. "You're hurting my hand." It takes another second to register before Matt realizes he's holding Claire's hand tight enough to grind the bones together before he jumps slightly and lets go. The nurse exhales in relief and rubs her sore hand with her other one. "Thank you," she breathes before her breath shifts to talk again. "You're being too loud, and I'm pretty sure you just squeezed all the water out of that washcloth."

Matt freezes, any type of response dying on his tongue as he registers he's been tuning out everything around him to rant. He breathes out slowly and allows all his senses to return to him. The sound of Leslie's pounding racing heart comes first, followed by the fabric shifting of her violent trembling. "Shit," he breathes in regret. "I think she heard me..."

"I probably could've told you that," Claire responds, releasing her sore hand and letting them both fall to her sides. "Look, I know you want what's best for Leslie. But you have to think about what's best for you, too. You can't get so invested in her health you forget about your own." She pauses and sighs deeply. "So what are you going to do?"

Matt releases a similar heavy breath and shakes his head. "I don't know," he replies honestly. "She won't go to any authority figure... Maybe the church? I'm sure Father Lantom and the sisters would shelter her as long as she needs."

"That's a bit risky, Matt," Claire states hesitantly. "Couldn't some of the Russians be religious. If they recognize her-"

"I'll explain the situation to him," Matt says. "Maybe he can keep her in one of the rooms in the back and have a sister with her. They'll probably be more help to her than I could."

Claire nods in thought and reaches out, grabbing the rag from his hand and moving passed him to the sink. "If that's what's best for both of you," she says, running the cloth under the cold tap water. Matt knows she doesn't believe it herself, but he decides to let it slide. He doesn't even know if he can go through with it. "When are you going to move her?"

"Soon," he replies, placing a hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to the church tonight to run it by the Father."

"Tonight?" the nurse asks, turning off the tap and wringing the excess water from the cloth. "You're going out tonight?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You have Leslie for one," Claire responds, turning to face him. "And two, you're getting too involved in her. You go out like you are and you're not just patrolling. You're out for blood."

Matt sighs again and turns his head away. "I know," he says through his huff. "But I have to go. They'll try again with another kid, maybe younger than her. I can't let that happen."

Claire hums in thought then nods. "That still leaves Leslie for tonight," she reminds. "I can't take her, I have work."

"Then how come you're here?" Matt asks with a raised eyebrow.

Claire laughs slightly and brushes past him on the way out. "It's not that late, Matt," she informs, causing Matt to swipe his fingers over the open watch face on his wrist. Eight thirty two. Not bad. "I thought I'd stop by here first. See how everything's going."

Matt smiles as he follows his friend down the hall. "Well, she's here," he answers lightly, starting to feel his tension leaving again. "There's only so good it can go."

Claire laughs quietly and slows her pace when she gets back to the living room. Other than her now extended legs, Leslie hasn't moved since they left. Matt can tell that her reopened wounds are getting to her, the repeated tensing and relaxing of her muscles makes that obvious. The smell of blood has also gotten stronger, allowing him to smell it as soon as he walked into the room rather than getting close. A passing thought wanders to the state of his couch, but he pushes it aside to focus on the more pressing matter.

Claire lowers herself onto the couch beside Leslie and begins dabbing her face with the washcloth. "Sorry, baby," she says, still not earning a response from the teen. "Matt and I had things to discuss."

Matt takes a seat on the opposite couch and clasps his hands together on his lap. "Yeah," he says, bouncing his leg anxiously. "We were talking about you actually..." Claire snaps her head to face him and he doesn't need sight to know the look she's giving him, but he sighs heavily and continues on. "Leslie...I'm sorry, but...you can't stay here..." He waits for a reaction, but earns none. Not even the usual sharp inhale that comes from just saying her name.

He passes a look to Claire that hopefully reads desperate before continuing. "I have a friend at the church who might be able to help. Father Lantom. He's the one who helped me when my dad... Anyway, I can talk to him tonight and get you moved tomorrow, but I don't know if you want to be left alone when I go." Still no response. "Shit..."

That finally earns a single flinch as response. It's small, but it lets Matt know she's not completely unresponsive. It also lets him know that she's still sensitive about bad language. Claire turns her head to him again and he shrugs an awkward apology. She shakes her head and sighs through her nose. "So where's she going?" the nurse asks, refolding the rag to the colder side and continuing to dab Leslie.

"I gotta make a call," he informs, rising and turning to his bed. "Maybe Foggy can take her for the night. He seemed to like her. More importantly, she seemed to like him."

Claire nods and sets the washcloth on the table beside the bag. "That's good," she says distractedly, finally shifting to attend to Leslie's wounds. "Alright, baby, I need to see your leg."

Matt decides he can't really help here anymore, so he walks to his nightstand, grabs his normal phone, and walks back down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, he sits down on the edge of the tub and dials the only number he memorized. It rings twice before his friend answers.

"I was just about to call you," Foggy answers, grunting slightly as he shifts something on the other end. "I'm on the way over. Karen made some tea for you since you're supposed to be sick, so I thought Leslie would like it."

Matt smiles at his friend's thoughtfulness and nods. "I think she would, too," he replies. "But I was calling for a favor."

"What's up?"

Matt sighs through his nose and his face falls slightly. "Can you watch Leslie for the night?" he asks, lifting his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I have to talk to Father Lantom and Claire has to work..."

"Yeah, sure," Foggy says, shifting the object again. "What do you need to talk to the Father about?"

The blind man sighs again, this time into the receiver instead of throug his nose. "I'll explain in the morning," he says tiredly, moving his hand from his nose to run through his hair. "I'll see you soon, Foggy."

"If you say so," Foggy says, suspicion and concern easing into his tone. "Later, man."

Matt says his second round of farewells before removing the phone and hitting end. He moves both hands back to his lap and sighs, feeling his previous tension slipping back into his being. He knows it's the best thing to do for both himself and Leslie, but something inside doesn't feel right.

"Damn it, Murdoc," he mutters to himself, listen to Claire and Leslie interact in the other room. "Not even two days in and you get emotionally involved... How did you manage to mess up like that?"