A/N: Here I am again, and I am pleased and sorry at the same time because we are near to the end of this story. The next chapter (the 18th) will be the last one. I am thinking about a sequel because I have some ideas in my mind, but I am also writing something new, a couple of one shots I hope to share with you as soon as possible!

Again thank to all of you who are reading this story so far, and Thanks to my beta, you are amazing!

So… no more words. Here it is the new chapter!

Chapter 17: Penguins don't fly

-Claire!- John's voice was unusually loud and harsh, and she realized she might have blacked out for a while and that it wasn't the first time he was calling for her help. She shook her head to clear her mind and throw the panic away.

Daredevil was standing near the check-in desk in his distinctive red suit and horns, heavily painting, and he was holding someone in his arms. He was an old man and from the limpness of his body, he seemed unconscious. She took a second to conduct a swift check on Matt (Daredevil, Claire. He is just Daredevil and you are just a nurse). He seemed to be ok at first glance but the red suit made difficult to spot blood under those lights.

-Help him- The man in the suit asked in a low voice, without any sign of threat or danger, he even seemed calm and she had to admit he was quite a good actor, but she could read him even under his mask. Claire knew that tone... and suddenly she also knew the man's identity.

John was the doctor in charge that night and luckily for them, he was one of those that saved a life first and then asked questions about insurance and other stuff later.

-Marie, find a gurney. Claire, help me here.- he was trying to check over Stick, but Matt's grasp was so tight on his friend that John was having trouble. He was trying to convince him to let the man go, but concern and dread were making him lose his normally cold blood.

She took a step forward, hoping to not give away that she already knew him and thinking that he really looked threatening in his costume, and that, united with what his victims had said about him in the last months, definitely wasn't helping. Probably, if she hadn't known the real man under the horns she would be as near to a panic as her colleagues, but there was a reason if they called her every time things became difficult, she was one of the most cold-blooded nurses in the Metro-General.

-Sir?- she asked, faltering, trying to use her sweetest tone to break into him -Sir, you have to let him go, please. We've got him, I promise. Just, please, let him go- She was surprised when he didn't listen to her. She tried a new approach, one that could help him without put her in too much trouble. -Sir? Uhm... Mike? Do you remember me? That night, in that dumpster?-

She ignored John's astonished gaze, focusing only on Matt. She had thought about that for about two seconds before deciding it would be the right thing to do. He froze for a moment, then his head moved in one single nod. -Then you know you can trust me, Mike. Please. Leave him now-

Finally, he released his grasp, helping John to put the older man on the stretcher and walking with them into the first-aid station.

She gently pushed him back, forcing his hand to leave the arm of the eldest man.

-Stay here- she whispered -We've got him, ok?- And he simply obeyed.

The doctor looked at her, but she shook her head. Claire knew he was silently asking her to send the Devil out of the room, but that definitely wasn't a good idea.

-Shit- John's word wasn't even close to a real description of Stick's condition. He was wearing what was left of a shirt, largely soaked with blood, dust and maybe rain. John nodded and she cut what she could, exposing his mutilated torso.

The man had been tortured, but the worst things where the three holes Matt had covered with tape to restrain the blood loss. Her heart stopped for a second, and she cursed in her mind because she knew Daredevil could hear that, and what that could mean.

-He needs surgery- she was so intent in drying the blood she had been barely aware that John had approached Daredevil -He's critical, but we'll try everything we can to save him-

she heard him saying, and she recognized his "we need a miracle" tone. -No! You can't come in… please, sir… Claire!-

She immediately left what she was doing to reach the men. John was having a hard time trying to stop the vigilante from entering the Operation Room.

-Mike. Mike!- she was amazed about how fast he changed his attitude at the sound of her voice -Mike. You can't come in, ok? You have to trust the doctor-

-Will… Will you be in with him?- he asked, now apparently calm.

-No, I'm not cleared for OR. I'm going to take care of you instead, ok?-

For a moment, she had feared his reaction, because his whole body had tensed, then his common sense apparently took the lead and he just nodded, moving forward to slightly squeeze one of Stick's hands before let them prepare him for the operation.

Claire looked at the computer that was monitoring the first-aid rooms status, and she found that the very last one, the furthest from the entrance, was free. -I'll take him in room 6- she told Marie.

000

That wasn't happening.

He wasn't in an hospital, and Stick wasn't going to die under surgery. It was a nightmare, and as soon as Claire would use something painful on him he would wake up screaming in his bed and she would hug him.

He was truly convinced about this, and that was the only reason he followed her in the last room of the ER, where she could treat him properly.

That was the only reason he could bear the whole hospital, its smell, fear and...memories of the worst times of his life.

He remained still in the center of the room while she closed all the curtains to hide them from the outside, then her soft arms were around him, holding him close. And he let her, because the sooner she would begin to treat his injuries, the sooner the pain would come and he would find himself awake in his bed.

Claire's superpower seemed to understand when he didn't want to talk, so she began to free him from the suit without speaking a single word, telling him she was there and he was safe only with her touch.

Matt focused his whole mind on the familiar heartbeat of Stick as he had done since the moment he had been shot.

Thump thum. Thump thum. Thump thum.

It was still there, but it was slower than before, even if Matt couldn't really tell if it was due to his condition or the anesthesia. It was reassuring, in a certain way, and it distracted him from Claire's hand stitching him up. He expanded his senses a little more to cover what the meds were doing. He could tell they had already extracted two of the three bullets in Stick's chest and they were discussing about the third one that was dangerously near to his heart….

Thum-thum-thumthumthumthumthumthumthumthum.

And then there was only silence.

No. No. Nononononononono...

In the operation room was a cacophony of sounds: voices, instruments, the deafening alarms of the machines that were monitoring Stick's vitals. He could heard the whistle of the defibrillator in charge, and the sound of his mentor's body when it was electroshocked.

One. Two. Three times, but still, the silence was there.

The hospital was full of noise.

There were people speaking, children whimping and relieved laughs, but everything was silence.

Hell's Kitchen was chaos.

Ambulances, police cars, firefighters.

Cats fighting and people having sex.

Drug dealers and families.

Still, everything was silence, because the only thing Matt could hear right now was the absolute quiet left by Stick's heart.

Finally the pain came... But he was still here, in this room. And it wasn't his wound's pain.

It was a deeper sorrow, more painful than everything he has experienced before, with only one exception. He knew too well that feeling, he remembered it from the day his father had died.

It was like having a rock stuck into his chest that had suddenly exploded, spreading big pieces of grit and ash all over his insides. It burned and stung and scratched and... it just hurt too much.

He couldn't bear it. Not anymore.

Suddenly he begun to feel claustrophobic and breathless under his mask, as if ash had filled his lungs, preventing air from reaching them and the sensation grew worse the more he realized what had really happened.

His hands rose, trying compulsively to pull off the hood. Somewhere his brain was yelling at him, saying it was useless since it didn't cover his nose and mouth, and apparently Claire agreed with it because she was trying to stop him, but he just ignored everything and everyone.

-Matt, Matthew!- her voice was something less than a whisper. He heard her usually reassuring tone, but he couldn't force himself to be tranquilized by it, still fighting against her to free his own face -It's too dangerous. Keep it on!-

-Claire. Claire. Please...- he begged her and the second she surrendered he threw that damn thing off and with it some of his hair. Claire was fast in locking the door and the she was back to him, making him lean his face in her shoulder.

Matt was panting, his mouth open looking for air, and the nurse released her grasp to let him raise his head and breath. His chest wanted to blow itself up, and it was trying hard, but there was something, like a straightjacket or steel cylinder around it, pressing it so hard as if it wanted to crunch his ribs and lungs up like an empty bin. The two opposite forces were battling against each other, equally strong and aching, and he was stuck helplessly in the middle of it. He wished he could cry or shout or do something to release the pressure but he couldn't find the voice, or the strength… and he needed air…. and...

-Calm down, Mike. Calm down...- Claire's voice was enough to stop the war. The pressure suddenly vanished and oxygen filled his lungs. The steel cylinder was gone, and his rib cage was now able to expand again.

-I... I can't... Lose him, Claire. I... I can't. I… It's my… f… fault…-

000

Claire barely recognized Matt's words or voice. It exited from his chest as a choked shout, all cracked and shaking at the same time. That sudden crisis scared her, because in his condition nothing was announcing that sort of panic attack.

-Mike… Matt - she breathed the second name right beside his left ear. She had felt some vibration in her throat, but not the sound of her own voice, but she was sure he could hear her. She couldn't help but use his real name when everything she had tried before hadn't worked -Breathe. Just breathe… Breathe-

She focused her full attention on her boyfriend, trying to make him stop from doing this mixture between a desperate cry, a panic attack and a speech that seemed to tear his whole body apart.

-Stop talking. Stop talking. Later, Mike. You'll explain later- she whispered, her hand on his forearms to let him room for coming up for air easier but without depriving him of her presence.

-Breathe, Mike, come on. Breathe. I'm here with you- She didn't know how it was possible for her voice to come out so steady and reassuring while she was beginning to be in a sweat by herself, because she didn't have a clue on what was going on, and Matt wasn't helping.

-I... I... St... Stick... Is... M' fault...-

-He's going to be ok, Mike... -

She wasn't ready when he suddenly pushed her away with all his strength. She withdrew a few steps, choking a cry to not making things worse for him, trying and failing not to finish with her butt on the floor, but what shocked her the most was the words he screamed.

-HE IS DEAD!- and then he curled himself into a red ball on the gurney she had made him sit on, sobbing as if his own words had broken him.

For a second, she could do nothing but stay where she had fallen, staring at the young man, unable to move a single muscle, because she wasn't sure on what to do and because she couldn't believe something like that had really happened, right here and now, under Matt's supersensitive ears.

The sound of an hand smashing into the door shook her out her catatonic state of mind.

-Temple?! Is everything alright in there? Open up!- she swallowed hard to find the voice to answer

-I'm ok, doc! I'm coming!-

She reached for the mask Matt had let fall down on the ground and approached him, thinking of make him put it on, but when she could finally see his face, his unfocused eyes full of tears, after she had taken his head and turned it gently toward her, she decided she couldn't.

-Stay there, Mike- she put a soft kiss on his forehead -Keep your face hidden-

He grabbed the light blue shirt of her job suit, all his body imploring her not to leave him, and only God knew how she wanted to accomplish that, but the man outside the door was threatening to break in and that was the last thing she (they) needed. -I'll be right back. I promise- and ignoring his pleas she opened the door and exited.

-Are you ok?- John was there with Marie and two security guards.

-Yeah, yeah... He just... Uhm... Felt... Or saw... Or I don't know... His friend had died- she didn't have to fake how shocked she was.

-Can we talk to him?-

-Not right now... I was planning to leave him alone for a while to calm himself down. He is... upset- that was the first word that came up in his mind, but it wasn't even nearly close to the reality -He might have superpowers... But he is still human-

Please, please, please... Stop asking...

-Claire, why don't we take a coffee?- Marie stepped into the conversation, saving her for more than probable thorny questions she didn't want to be asked -You might bring him one too- the nurse looked at her friend, then John, who simply nodded his consent. Claire followed the colleague, sighing in relief and thanking the other girl, trying to shut her conscience up. She shouldn't be there. She should go back to that room and stay with his boyfriend, but no, she couldn't. She had to pretend he was a stranger, because Matt was a freaking vigilante and had decided to come here under his superhero identity. -So? Did you see his face?- the girl asked, and under different circumstances she would be amused by his curiosity, but not right now.

-No, never. Just his torso- she answered, making her voice clearly tired while she filled three mugs of coffee and offered the first one to the other nurse.

-And that dumpster thing?- Of course she was asking for more detail about that episode, but Claire decided to play numb and pretend to think the main question was still the face behind the mask.

-Same thing- she almost snapped, and Marie took the message.

-Well, if I were you, I'd call my lawyer boyfriend- she suddenly changed topic and the seriousness in her voice caught her attention.

-Why? Am I in trouble?-

-No, you aren't. He might be. I overheard the doctor talking about calling the police-

Of course there would be an investigation. She cursed herself in her mind for not having thought about it by herself. It was the standard procedure. She had to think about something to make him leave the hospital. On the outside, she nodded and thanked her before going back to the room where she had left Matt.

000

He was alone, Claire had left him and he just couldn't react or doing anything but whimpering like a child for someone he had always declared to despise. After having screamed Stick's death, he could finally breathe again, but his body has decided to betray him one more time and he had found himself sobbing and silently begging Claire to stay with him.

Somewhere behind his melancholy his brain had registered the threat of the doctors and Claire's words, so it made him relax his grip on her shirt and bring his hands over his head to cover his face while she was going out.

Now he was alone, he let everything out and let all his body and soul be overwhelmed by his desperate cry, refusing to try to figure why exactly Stick's loss was so devastating. Eventually he got tired and his exhausted body had stopped his outburst, leaving him weak and slightly shaking. He didn't move, though. He just...stayed there, tears still flowing from his closed eyes.

He shifted from his position only when he heard Claire step into the room again, and he was surprised when before that he caught the key turning into the keyhole, as if she had locked him into that room. He was already starting to feel a bit betrayed by her lack of trust when a bell rang in his brain, telling him she wasn't keeping him in. She was keeping the others out.

Claire's scent was mashed up with coffee and soon he found himself sit on the small mattress keeping in his hand a warm mug, Claire right beside him with her hand lightly squeezing his lap. He slowly sipped the coffee, his mind somewhere in Australia or the Antarctic, in an alternative universe where Stick was still a dick, but also still alive. He felt like everything was happening somewhere on TV, in a TV-show or a bad motion picture and then, without any kind of notification, his mind was teleported into that movie, and everything felt as though it had been made anew...and he collapsed again leaning back on the stretcher again.

Claire hadn't said a word, so far.

She had just let him cry himself out, hidden in the pillow, rubbing his back until he couldn't cry any longer.

-Mike?- Claire eventually spoke, when she felt like he was not weeping anymore -The doctor wants to speak with you, as soon as you are ready. He knows you already know but...-

-Yeah. Yeah. Ok, sure- he managed somehow to raise and turn his head toward her -Uhm... Do I need a lawyer?-

And he was as surprised as she was when he heard his mouth say that. His mind had come back without a word and had settled itself on his practical mode. -I mean, there will be an investigation, right?-

-Uhm.. Yeah, I guess... I mean, that's the procedure.- she lowered her voice -or you can knock me unconscious and flee-

He shook his head firmly.

-No. You've already told them you've helped me before. If I escape now, I would look guilty and you would be under investigation, too. No. I'm going to talk to the police if I have to. They don't think I am a criminal anymore. Well, not so much, at least.- and if things started to turn out bad, he could always flee later without her getting involved, he thought, but he knew better than to say that.

He felt Claire kneeling down and pick something up from the floor, then she was putting again his helmet over his head, the way she used to do at home, kissing him slightly before covering his eyes.

-Ready, Little Horn?- He didn't feel like he could be able to smile right now, but the nickname did his job and his lips curved on a sad half-smile. Then she opened the door, and let the doctor, John, come in.

He could felt clearly his fear. His body was tensed and he could hear the fold he had in his hands slightly shaking. He couldn't see himself in the suit, but all his friends had assured him more than once he was quite frightening in that guise.

-I know you did your best, doctor- he said quietly, in the least creepy voice he could put together without using Matt's usual tone. -And I'd like to thank you and your crew for that-

And Matt meant it wholeheartedly. He had known since the beginning that it might turn into a lost battle, and Stick had warned him about that too before... He felt his eyes stinging for tears. Not now. He forced himself to focus again on the doctor. His speech seemed to work, the man relaxed as much as the Devil's presence could allow him, and when he spoke his voice was steady... Ish.

-Well, yes... Uhm thank you... Sir?-

-Mike is fine- he encouraged. Somehow he wasn't really comfortable to be called Daredevil. Sure, it was his codename but it was also something that made him like a superhero, and he didn't feel like being one. not right now, at least.

-Mike... Well... his heart has stopped, I... I am very sorry about your... friend?-

-Yeah... Sort of- honest enough. -Do I need a lawyer?- he asked then.

-Uhm... No. I was thinking...no one but us and Marie had seen you after you came in so... We might just say to the police you brought him here and then you just disappeared, if it is ok for you-

It was more than ok. That could be good. The doctors could testify to his innocence and Claire wouldn't be implicated. He felt like shit for leaving Stick's here like that, but there was nothing more he could do, even as Matt Murdock. For the law, he was nothing to him, not even his lawyer, so there was no way they would give him the body, although maybe the hospital would call Father Lantom to take care of everything. He nodded and raised a hand, allowing John to shake it.

-Thank you, again- he whispered.

-The girl you saved last week, she was my sister. So, thank you-

When he left, Claire kissed him one more time.

-Go home. I will be there in an hour-

-What time is it?- from the temperature of the glass of the window he could perceive it was still dark...then he understood. And what he managed to say after he had realized what she was suggesting, because all in his body and soul was begging him to say yes was only a weak -No, Claire. Stay. I appreciate that... I really do, but it would be suspicious-

-Give me a favour- she said nodding, almost begging -go to Foggy's place. Don't stay alone, please-

God. He had almost forgot about Foggy. He had no idea how he would be able to give him the news, or what his reaction would be, and he didn't feel like to discover it that night. Foggy wouldn't understand his sorrow or why he was feeling so guilty about it, but he wasn't ready to tell his best friend (or someone else for what that matter) what had happened like three hours ago.

-I can take care of myself- he whispered.

-I'll call Foggy- she offered and once again he wondered how it was possible he was such an open book to her. He thought about refusing that, but somewhere deep inside him, he couldn't bear to stay alone in his apartment, where everything (well, not exactly, he had fixed it after...that) would reminded him of his mentor.

-Thanks- he nodded, then he made his way outside the window.

000

When Claire asked if she could have a break after the last hour, no one dared to turn her down. She seemed really tired out to everyone, and she wasn't surprised when she realized she really was.

All she'd wanted right now was her bed, curl herself under the sheets and sleep for at least a week. She exited the hospital, needing air not only to take the chance to phone to Foggy without being bothered, but also to try to wash away the rush of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her.

It took a while to him to answer, and she wouldn't actually call that… moan? Groan? Piss and moan? like that, anyway.

-Foggy- she said, seriously -Wake up-

Apparently, the sound of her voice so late in the night was more effective than everything else to drag him out of his sleep in less than half a second.

-How's Matt?-

-Stick is dead- She forked over that bomb without any notification. She hadn't meant to be so rude about that, because the old man was still a subject Foggy avoided heartily after what he had seen him do (Karen had told her once he still woke up screaming during the night, dreaming of him throwing Matt out of the window), but she was tired, and Matt was alone and… she just did that.

-What? When? How?- he paused, too shocked to think, then he began again, speaking so fast she could barely keep up with his words. -How's Matt? Where is he? Is he ok?-

-Daredevil brought him here…- she explained, suddenly emptied by all the adrenaline that had kept her in motion so far -we tried our best but…-

-Where is he? Is he there? Does he need a lawyer?- exhausted or not, she couldn't avoid to wonder why in the hell those two were so struck with that.

-No, the doctor had let him go before calling the police. There is going to be an investigation, of course, but DD is not involved. Foggy, he is going home, and I am blocked here until 7 am…-

-I'm going. Don't worry. He will not be alone-

-Thanks… and…-

-No question. Got it. That's why I'm not speaking to him right now, isn't it?-

She felt a smile rise on her face, and silently hoped Matt was aware how lucky he was to have him.

-See you tomorrow, then. Thank you-

000

The phone call had woken Karen up too, mostly because Foggy was too upset to pay attention to the noise he was making while dressing himself as fast as he could.

-What?- she managed to mumble still more asleep than awake, then she jumped -Is Matt ok?-

It took a while to Foggy to answer her because was apparently trying to put off his pajama and on a sweatshirt at the same time, with the obvious result to almost choke himself. Eventually, she reached for him and took the upper part of the night garment off him. Foggy looked at her, but Karen couldn't find any clues from his face, and that was strange because when Matt was involved, she could always tell how bad it was just from his look.

-What happened?- she urged when he didn't speak.

-Stick…- he began, but then words failed him.

-Not again…- she whispered, thinking Matt had been pressured to leave once more.

-What? No… he… he is dead.-

-What?-

-Claire phoned me a minute ago. I'm going to Matt.-

Well, at least that explained his lack of expression. Presumably he didn't exactly know how to react to the news. It was a good thing, or a bad one? Stick had hurt all of them, and Foggy was still trying to forget the "window accident", that's what Matt called it, and she wouldn't be surprised nor she would blame him if Foggy might think it wasn't such a big loss.

She knew better than offer to go with him; Matt would surely be messed up and there was no space for her in this. He needed his best friend.

-Foggy- she hugged him tight -Calm down before going to his apartment. He needs his best friend, the one who isn't relieved by all this, ok?-

-Am I such a bad person if I am?-

-What?-

-Relieved-

-You saw him almost kill your brother, it's ok. Just… don't say that to Matt. Be strong, because if Claire called you, he must be pretty shit right now-

He nodded and left her alone.

000

Foggy had no idea of what was waiting for him behind the door of his best friend's house. He had knocked a couple of times, loud enough to be sure Matt could hear him, but when he got no answers he decided to open with his spare key.

-Matt? It's Foggy. Don't kick my ass. Please...-

Still, there was no reply to his sentence. He looked around at the room. Everything was at its place, except for the red suit that laid forgotten on the floor. He took it, feeling it in his hands for the first time. It was lighter than he had thought, but it was also made of some kind of fiber he didn't recognize, something similar to kevlar but also mixed with something else that made it practical for fights. The blond folded and placed it on the couch before making his way to the small kitchen. Everything looked at its place, and since no sound was coming from the bathroom he decided to check the bedroom.

-Matt? It's Foggy- he called again -I'm coming to your bedroom. Don't freak out, ok?-

Please be in your bedroom...

-Roof- he sighed with relief when he finally heard his friend's voice and hurried to join him outside. -Sorry- Matt apologized when they both were sitting on the edge, The blind one with his legs in the air, Foggy sit in the opposite direction, both his feet well planted on the floor -I wasn't sure about having company-

-It's ok, Matty. It's ok. Do you want me to leave?-

Foggy wasn't really expecting a yes as an answer, so he froze when Matt spoke, with such a icy voice that it reminded him of Stick.

-Yes, please. And don't come back-

-Matt…-

-Nelson & Murdock is over starting from now. And tell Claire she can keep the apartment-

What the he… then Foggy made the connection, and was really tempted to push his best friend down off that roof.

-Not a chance, Murdock. And it's not your fault if your dad and Stick died, ok? And we are not gonna die just because we live around you-

000

This time was his turn to froze, then he realized how stupid his plan had been from the beginning, and how stupid he had been trying to fool Foggy like that. It might work maybe with Karen, or with Claire, but obviously not with the guy who had lived for four years with him.

-I want you to be safe- he managed to whisper, shyly, trying to avoid Foggy's eyes.

-Then do your job and keep us safe, you asshole, because I am not leaving your side, and neither are Karen or Claire-

-I don't want you to be hurt… again-

-I was trying to protect you, Matt-

Yeah, and apparently Stick was too, and he had got three bullets in his chest and a funeral he would not be allowed to attend. He didn't want to bring one more of his friends to an hospital fatally wounded; actually, he didn't want someone else to die for him at all. -Buddy?-

-He was trying to protect me too. My dad? The same. Well, more or less and I don't want to lose you, because if I lose you... Or Claire or...-

-Matt, Matt, Matt. Calm down, ok?-

-People who try to protect me usually die! Stick was the last one!-

-What the hell are you saying, Matt? What happened?-

000

And suddenly Matt just stopped talking and bent his knees to curl himself into a ball, a ball dangerously on the ledge of a roof six stories above the street. Foggy had hated that attitude since their college era.

One moment he was practically yelling and then he just went mute and refused to say another word. Anyway, he didn't let his rage show up. Matt'd had a bad night and he just had to be his friend right now.

-Matt? Matty. Little Horn. Listen to me ok? It's ok. I don't really care about what happened ok? Now, please, can we go inside? I'm freezing and I swear I just saw a penguin flying from your roof to the next one-

-Penguins don't fly, Fog-

Matt eventually whispered from somewhere between his folded legs, where he had buried his face. Foggy took the hint and just played along, because arguing-about-penguins Matt was still better than Guilty Matt or Mute Matt.

-They do. Haven't you seen Happy Feet Two?-

-Technically speaking, no I have not.- the blind guy retorted - And Sven wasn't a real penguin, it was a Tufted Puffin-

-That's not the point. The point is I am becoming a fogsicle- finally Matt rose his head, with the shadow of a half smile on his lips

-It's not that cold, Foggy...but...ok- he suddenly sounded weary.

-Come on, buddy, let's go to bed and try to get some sleep. You look like shit-

Matt didn't answer, but followed him inside. Foggy wasn't stupid; he knew they would not have much rest that night.

Thanks for reading.

I… uhm… I'm sorry?