Trigger Warning.

If the only crime is pride, then these lawyer buddies of Karen trampled all over it. Matthew Murdock and Franklin Nelson, Columbia University graduates. Interns for Landman and Zack, now they run their own law firm: Nelson and Murdock. Bleeding hearts too. They took the cases a greedy shark like Hogarth wouldn't touch. Only one particular case caught my attention. Carl Hoffman. Big case for a small firm. If their last case wasn't the reason, taking down a crime lord like Wilson Fisk would be my next guess.

I drummed my fingers against my knee, glancing up from my phone to the girl next to me. We're in a cab, extra cost to save precious time. Kidnapping cases tend to go to shit the longer the victim had been missing and according to my new friend here, Matt Murdock had been gone for about twelve hours. I hate working under pressure, but I knew what I was getting into with this one. We were heading straight for Metro-General Hospital, check on Foggy, see if he could shed some light in this fucked up case of theirs. Shit, I don't want to go back there…

Karen Page had since calmed down after signing the contract. Some false comfort, I'm half tempted to tell her how Hope and her folks ended up six fucken feet under. Instead, I returned to another news article on my phone, drawing out my flask to take a quick swig. No comment, not even a judgmental glance from Karen. Good.

The cab pulled up to the hospital, I stepped out and went ahead to the hospital, waiting with arms crossed and a bored face as Karen paid the driver. Maintaining this nonchalance look was essential. The more I believed it, the more I could ignore the crowd. It felt like dozens of eyes watching me as we stepped into the building, Karen walking ahead to speak to the receptionist while I kept my arms tensed against my chest. From the corner of my eyes, I thought I spotted someone rushing me, causing me to twist around and drop my arms into fists. Heart thudded in my chest because some damn nurse and a wheelchair bound, senile man. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket, forcing myself to relax even as I could imagine the screams for my blood.

"Let's go?" Karen asked, interrupting my reluctant reminiscent.

"Yeah," I responded, gesturing for her to lead the way as I slunk after her.

One elevator trip up, down a hall, and around the corner, we stepped into room of one Franklin Nelson. The man was on the heavier side, blond hair a sad mess around a face painted with the blacks and blues of bruises and an IV bag dripping along beside him. The florescent lighting made him look like crap, casting his bruised face in sharp shadows as he watched the TV with rapt attention. I glanced at the screen, recognizing a local news station.

"Hey there," he rasped when he noticed us at the doorway, muting the television. He gave Karen a warm smile. "Glad to see you came out of all that unscathed."

"Relatively," the girl smiled, forced, as she lifted her bruised wrist up.

"Could be worse. These doctors over exaggerate. Just give me a bottle whiskey and a day of sleep and I'll be as good as new. Anyways, how's Matt? I haven't been able to reach him since I woke up."

Karen glanced away, hands clenching. Before she could respond, I decided to make my presence known, maneuvering around the girl while speaking out, "That's what I'm here for. Jessica Jones, PI, here about that friend of yours."

Foggy sized me up, suspicion reflecting across what I assumed to be a normally jovial face. It seemed like Karen's 'lawyer friend had some secrets based on that guarded look. Let's see if it's something that I could use to finish this case quickly.

"Why, what's wrong with him, what are you investigating?"

Definitely knows something.

I leaned back, folding my arms across my chest and gave him my best no-bullshit stare, "How about the fact that your blind friend got nabbed off the streets last night, I find that pretty important to look into."

A series of emotions—surprise, confusion, fear—passed through his face before he glanced away. In a whisper, "He's… missing?"

This guy was hiding something, and you didn't need to be a PI to sniff that out. I narrowed my eyes into a glare, "Bullshitting me isn't going to help Matt—" Foggy flinched, Karen stared at me confused "—so I suggest you play nice and answer my questions. Do you know who and why you guys were attacked yesterday?"

"Hell if I know—"

"I said no bullshitting," I growled, striding forward and slamming a fist into the wall above and to the side of Foggy's bed, enough to leave a dent into the wall, "and I'm damn good at sniffing out a liar."

Foggy slumped, like a marionette getting his strings cut though he grumbled under his breath, "Another freaking lie detector…"

"Excuse me?"

He waved his hand towards me, snorting in a sad attempt to hide the trembling in his voice, "Nothing, just… Matt's pretty good at catching onto lies. I—it's hard to imagine anything bad happening to him." Karen moved to the chair on the other side of the bed, reaching a hand over to his. Her eyes shone with tears though she looked to Jessica to continue.

I was still caught up by his words. Interesting thing for him to say about someone with a tragic childhood. Blind and orphaned, according to my good friend Google, not a person I could say avoids the world crapping on him.

"Karen here believes this is connected to your last case, with Natalia Maduro. Care to expand on that?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," he shrugged. "We were up against one of the biggest local gang since Wilson Fisk's arrest. Twenty-two years old girls like her deserved some goddamn justice."

"How did she find you?"

"Referred to us. She couldn't afford any big shot lawyer and karma would be one hell of a bitch if we refused to help a girl after going through the shit she did."

"What was that exactly?"

"Those bastards were selling her at some sleazy hotel. Drugged her up and tied her down so any asshole could have their way for an hourly fee," Foggy spat. "They made bank on her and all the other girls and they were ready to spend a fortune on the best lawyers to slander her as some sort of loose woman. Like sleeping around warrants being forced into human trafficking."

"I would think having one of the victims would make it an easy win."

"Yeah, well they cleared out that hotel before the cops showed up. They found plenty of evidence of the human trafficking, but circumstantial at best that linked Mason Palmer—the head of this particular group of scum—to the crime scene."

"Then what did?"

"Dante Christos, a close friend of Mason's, testified against him and other key gang members as well as told the cops of another hotel. They managed to pull twelve girls out of there, and all of them testified as witnesses."

"He testified? Why?"

Foggy shrugged, though I noted the telltale signs of a lie. Could this be the reason for the attack?

"So what would they gain from you by taking someone like Matt? Did one of you do something specific to piss them off?" I pressed further, keeping a close eye on the man.

"Aside from represent Natalia in court, I can't think of anything I did to warrant this," he shook his head, gesturing to himself in the hospital bed.

"And Matt?"

"Nothing that I'm aware of."

Another shrug, but this time his eyes flickered away and hands fiddled with the bedsheet. He was lying, again, but this time I held back the accusation. Something told me it was a lost cause, a secret worth risking Murdock's life to keep. There was more ways to figure that shit out, easier than needling Foggy for it. Besides, the why for the attack was far less important than the where. Though I was curious on what exactly a blind man could do to piss off a local gang.

"Thanks for answering the questions," I said with a nod, then turned to Karen right as she began to stand up, "And this is where we split."

"No, I'm coming with," she said.

"Not if you want me to stay on this case. Working alone is one of my requirements, take it or leave it. Besides, things might get a little… messy."

"Hey, it's okay," Foggy spoke up to Karen even as the blonde glowered at me. He gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand. "Let her do the job you hired her for, I'm sure she could handle it. Plus, it's incredibly boring here, and there's nothing on but some weird Spanish soap. Would love the translator."

Karen looked between me and Foggy before finally letting out a sigh and sinking into the chair. I turned back to the door, not caring about their continued conversation as I walked out the room.

I stepped into the small apartment, maneuvering around the mountains of junk to reach the battered table and perch myself onto the chair. This place was a shithole with the cracked ceiling and peeling wallpaper, but I kept my opinions to myself as the girl sat across from me. Natalia Maduro appeared every bit as haunted as I thought she would. Her hair was a tangled mess of brown tresses, held up in a ponytail so as to give her an excuse to not give a shit. Dark circles left smudges beneath her sunken eyes. Pulling the falling strap of her loose dress back onto her shoulder, she folded her hands on the table and regarded her in silence.

"I'm sorry to bother you today," I began, staring down at my own interwoven fingers. I was going to be asking this girl to revisit hell just asking her these damn questions.

"I-It's fine," she said quietly. "Matt and Foggy did so much to help me, it wouldn't be right for me not to help in any way I can."

I nodded then pushed on, "Anything you could remember about these guys will help. Anyone who may take over after the arrests were made?"

Natalia nodded, reaching a hand to her throat. "Mason really liked Latinas. I don't remember much, but I remember him. He had a special room reserved from him where—"

She shook her head, glaring down at her white knuckles with too bright eyes, "He didn't like when we were drugged—he liked to hear us s-scream—but I remember that room the most. Occasionally he had some of his friends… join in. There were two, one was Dante. I re-recognized him from the trial, but there was a second man. I think it was his brother. I should have said something, I know I should have, but I just wanted it all over. I was so tried, I am so tired of it and I-and I—"

"Hey, it's okay," I said, keeping my voice low and my movements slow as I offered her a hand of comfort across the table. The hand that had since tightened around her throat loosened and fell to the table, and after a second of hesitating, she took my hand gratefully. Her grip screamed for comfort.

Sniffing, using her free hand to rub at her eyes, Natalia nodded. "I remember that brother of Dante's ordering people around, wish I could give a name."

"No, this is plenty, thank you for the help," I smiled, giving her hand a soft squeeze before getting up. She escorted me to the door, bidding a quiet goodbye while sliding the door closed.

I shot a hand out, stopping from the door from shutting completely.

"It'll never go away, but it does get better, enough to make living manageable. Don't ever let those bastard rule the rest of your life, monster like them are never worth the thought."

AN: Think I'll continue this. It won't leave my head and it's a nice break on some of my other projects. These chapters are going to be kept short, makes it more manageable to keep up with. I can't promise when there'll be another update though.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter. I really appreciate it!

Until next time.