A/N Thanks for all the kind feedback so far, it's like cheering on a marathon runner who's struggling up a steep bit of road. It really inspires and keeps me going! Let's crack on eh? ;)

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When Karen lazily flicked on the morning news, she gasped. A rapid intake of breath that dragged her blurry attention into sharp focus. A trembling hand flew to cover her mouth, her eyes fixed wide on the screen.

no...

Overnight, the unthinkable had happened, the news cast flashing up the highlights in a repeated cycle, the scrolling ticker-tape offering only a blunt summary: Hell's Kitchen Devil arrested... The four simple words knocking every scrap of breath from her lungs.

n-no...

Reeling she crouched in the pale fluorescent light of the screen. Rocking back on her heels she fumbled for the remote, her fingers numb as they stabbed at the volume controls.

Only fragments of the story were starting to filter through, piece by piece, frustratingly few in number. Hints of a night of unexpected violence, a trail of destruction, the police finally cornering him, guns drawn. The excited news anchor seemed to relish the details, his voice dripping with gravitas and urgency that grated on Karen's nerves immediately.

A shaky camera showed the moment he had been brought down. After a tense stand-off just before dawn, he'd capitulated quietly, calmly kneeling in some decrepit alley, under the spotlights, the dark clad police swarming over and around him. Vivid colour blazed constantly across the screen, testament to the amount of police cars called to the scene. She leant forward to scrutinise the handheld footage. The way he held himself, the way his head remained dipped down, the sense of finality and defeat rolled from him. What the hell had happened to make him so reckless?

She grimaced, watching the footage loop over and over, one pale slender hand pressed flat to the screen. Dammit Matt... no...

Something major had tipped him over the edge... Just how intense would the fall now be?

Apparently he'd said nothing as the mask had been ripped away. The cops pulling him around roughly to exclamations of surprise. They all wanted to see if it was true, jostling to see the face of the Devil. "What the hell?... Hey, you've seen what he can do!... No way that guy's blind... gotta be faking!..." He didn't resist at all as both arms were pinned firmly behind his back, the handcuffs snapped tight around each wrist.

His blank gaze had remained fixed to the floor, silent as they hauled him into the back of the waiting armoured transport. Sirens blaring out through the chill December dawn, the van surrounded by a growing fleet of patrol cars.

No way this one was escaping...

This guy had been running around like a law unto himself, assaulting people, causing actual physical harm. He had been captured, on video, flipping around, kicking the hell out of a group of cops as well. That shocking footage had been flashed out all over the news months ago for everyone to see. Whether those cops had deserved it, if they were crooked or not, it was still a fact some people had never forgotten and certainly not forgiven.

This was a guy who didn't respect the uniform, who didn't respect the law.

He had a lot to answer for...

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Foggy and Karen waited anxiously in the courtroom. The only ones willing and able to scramble together a legal defence under such short notice. Both were exhausted, tempers strained, nerves frayed as the guards threw the doors open, bringing the accused through into the courtroom.

She winced to see Matt like this, wearing an orange jumpsuit, quietly guided along, a guard at either elbow. He shuffled slowly, a chain hanging from his wrists, looping awkwardly down between his ankles, making walking difficult. A subtle clink-rattle sounding with each limited step. Bound up just like Frank had been. A different vigilante on trial here, but the same public circus baying for blood all around him.

They've all seen his face... A chill of realisation shivered through Karen, suddenly acutely aware that every head in the packed courtroom had turned to follow his slow progress, everyone knows... That's it... everyone knows and nothing will ever be the same for Matt now. She struggled to suppress the panic gathering in a tight knot in her lungs with each breath. Even if he's acquitted, the accusations will shadow over him forever.

Her desire to protect him from the intense scrutiny was undeniable. It outweighed any lingering resentment she might have felt for his past deceit, the glare of the moment just too harsh.

She'd have to share this knowledge... this secret... share him... with the world now. How could she ever protect him from that?

He looked strangely young and vulnerable without his glasses and cane, taking his direction from the guards, relying on their guidance to find the desk. Was he playing the courtroom already, vying for sympathy? A trace of doubt seared through Karen's train of thought. Quickly squashed. No... not his style, each hesitant step is real. He brushed one bound hand gently along the surface of the defendant's table to orient himself, not lifting his head to either Karen or Foggy as he passed by. Settling into the seat next to them like a statue, as if totally numb to his surroundings. A quiet spectre, resigned to his fate.

The courtroom was packed to capacity, meanwhile outside a growing mass of people spilled across the broad stone steps. Some with placards, some with effigies. A battalion of news cameras and reporters ranked in a long jostling line to the front of the crowd.

The press had been relentless, focused, cranking out articles since the arrest, whetting the appetite of the public, winding them up into a feeding frenzy of interest. Journalists had circled like vultures, clamouring for photos, chasing any scrap of information, digging into his past, into those lonely years at the orphanage, the gruesome details of the accident that 'blinded' him, the salacious criminal undertones to the death of his Father. Splashing it all out there to be dissected, to entertain. It was a gift of a story, one that just kept on giving and the public were lapping it up. Hungry for all the gritty details. They were either glamorising or gleefully ripping his character apart, crucifying him in the media.

Sat at the desk beside her, Karen could feel Foggy tense, shifting in his seat. The incredible strain clear on his pinched features, told by the dark rings under his eyes. His best friends future, perhaps even life, now in his hands. If Matt went to jail, it would kill him. He'd put too many people away to ever be safe. He kept glancing over to Matt, who seemed unable to respond. An unreadable stillness hanging over him. Maybe he was simply shutting everything out, the scrutiny and sensory overload too intense from the crowds in and outside the courtroom.

She couldn't bear to see Matt so closed off, so vulnerable. The calm silent centre of a media storm that would tear him to shreds.

"All rise."

The tight knot in Karen's lungs constricted, like a hand squeezing tight around her chest.

She looked around in growing panic, unable to bring herself to stand beside the others. Both Foggy and Matt seeming to drift away from her, out of reach, not looking back.

Her vision began to tunnel down to black she realised she couldn't stand..

She couldn't stand this!

She couldn't...

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"NO!"

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The gasp that ripped down her throat was wild and desperate. It took her several disoriented breaths to calm down, to steady her heart rate into something approaching a regular rhythm.

Slowly she began to comprehend the space around her, the familiar walls of her room in the half-light, the quiet of a pre-dawn hush, the fact that she was in her own bed, safe, a soft blanket tangled tight around her legs. The understanding slowly coalescing that it had just been a nightmare.

s'okay... Matt's okay...

She rubbed at her eyes wearily.

isn't he?...

Lifting her head slightly she winced, a headache tightening round her temple like a band of hot iron. Rolling onto her side she caught a glimpse of the scotch bottle she'd received as a gift from her new boss, Ellison. Curls of shiny festive ribbon still trailing limp from the neck, a third of the contents gone already.

Foggy had been so reassuring at the bar last night, walking her home afterwards, crushing her with a hug of genuine affection and concern as they had said good night. But as he turned away, it had been like the sun disappearing over the horizon, a warmth lost. A weight had settled over her shoulders instead, worry pushing her down with every step that she climbed up to her apartment, making her curl around the bottle in quiet contemplation, unable to sleep as her mind raced.

It would have been so easy to bury herself in that bottle of scotch last night.

Pulling the blanket up over her head she swore, words scarcely above a whisper.

She didn't want to leave the bed yet, to have to deal with reality. The cocoon of the blanket felt wonderful, a warm haven in a cold apartment.

How did Foggy put up with this? Is this how he slept? Fractured portents and fears every damn night?

She huffed a low growl, angry at her over-active imagination, angry at the situation, angry at Matt for putting them through all this.

Bastard...

ugh...

As she swung her legs out over the edge of the bed a wave of nausea rolled slowly through her. Hissing a low sigh she held her head tentatively as the room danced rudely around, spinning on it's axis slightly as she shifted to sit upright. Letting the blanket fall away, the chill of the room cut through her hangover, a sharp unwelcome slap to the senses.

Karen lifted her head, regarding the scotch bottle, tempted to just lean over and reach for it, for the oblivion it offered, but she pulled back, eyes narrowing in determination, heaving herself upright to shuffle over to the shower instead.

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Mitchell Ellison looked up, peering over the top of his glasses as Karen rested against the door to his office. Two cups of fresh aromatic coffee balanced in her grip.

"Hey Boss" her voice sounded fragile, huskily low. He squinted to her pale complexion, the the hint of shadows circling beneath her eyes. "Rough night?" his voice was gentle but curious, he leant back, tilting his head to one side, noting her faint shrug in response, knowing not to push too hard even though the answer was written clear for him to see. Is there nowhere else for you to be today? But he couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud, after all he was here too wasn't he? Christmas in the office... Jesus... what a job...

"Take a seat" he gestured to the chair facing his own cluttered desk, "I've got something I want you to look into."

Karen settled into the battered seat with a suppressed yawn, flashing a small grateful smile, pushing one of the coffees across the desk toward him, the hour excruciatingly early, the offices of the New York Bulletin mostly deserted.

"Nice work on your last piece" He nodded in thanks for the proffered drink "I want you to continue in that theme, I think it will generate a good amount of interest."

Karen perked up, glad for a new potential focus.

Ellison, sipped the coffee appreciatively, "One thing that's clear, is that vigilante stories sell like you wouldn't fucking believe, great for circulation." He cradled the drink between his hands "so I want to know where you're going to go with it next for me?"

Karen blinked, colour draining from her face slightly as she studiously gulped back a scalding mouthful of caffeine. Hiding her lurch of panic behind a wince from the hangover.

Get a grip...

Her boss arched a brow, unaware of the fragments of dreams cascading vividly through her thoughts. The trial, the press, the hounding attention, the unbearable pressure of a public revelation, how it would shatter Matt and cripple Foggy.

Say something...

Ellison looked back to his coffee, swirling the paper cup around. "It's a story that repeatedly spikes readership, so I want someone on it properly, digging far into it, think you can handle that? There was an incident last night, something you can start with?"

She replayed his words over... someone on it... someone... knowing with a sinking certainty that she'd have to accept. If anyone else were to investigate, to really study the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, how dangerous would that be? What would be uncovered?

Karen took another sip, playing for time, pulling her jumbled thoughts together. She would never twist that knife... would she? No... She couldn't conceive of ever actually revealing the secret, not when she still had the nightmare scenes fresh in her mind.

The only play here that she could see was damage limitation.

Fucking hell Matt... How long before Ellison thinks I'm incompetent? I'll be lucky to hang onto this job.

Karen breathed out slowly, anger rising in her again, lifting a hand to rub at her temple, to ease the echoes of the headache away, forcing herself to finally lift her chin and meet his eye. Absolutely sure. "I'll do it."

Ellison nodded, curtly, all business. "Great" he shuffled through a slew of printouts on his desk, selecting one and handing it over to Karen "Here.. a wannabe vigilante was murdered last night."

He spoke the words so matter of factly, blunt as ever, attributing the sudden tremor in Karen's hand as she took the report from him to the evident hangover.

Her heart lurched into her throat, all anger swept aside, struggling to keep up with the emotional roller-coaster she had never chosen to ride. For a split second she felt a swell of relief that it hadn't been Matt, then immediately swamped by a surge of guilt for even thinking that. She'd have to speak to Foggy, the story would unsettle him deeply.

With a vague nod she rose from the chair, making her excuses to leave the office, Ellison watching her curiously all the way.

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A/N: I went there... oh lord I went there... please forgive me for the nightmare sequences but I couldn't shake the images out of my head. If anyone was going to have those vivid dreams, hey.. I thought it just -had- to be Karen! She has some heavy -stuff- to deal with! ;) Thanks for the feedback on the previous chapter too btw, I did worry a little how a chapter on OC's would go down, so thank you for the responses! whew!

Onwards and upwards from here we go... or downwards... depending on which character you are! ;D