Jenna, in all of her current emotional suffering, managed to smile brightly when she saw Nelson and Murdock enter the room. She was only nineteen years old.

"I knew you'd come. Some way, somehow," she said. Her voice was shaky, as she was still recovering from the shock and fear of recent events, but she was more confident now that her lawyers were here. "Sorry I have no money, but I—uh...I can cook you as much food as you want? I'm a good cook. I work at Annabelle's, the restaurant on 49th."

"Ah, back to our old ways already, Matt," Foggy said to his friend. Matt smirked.

Matt and Foggy had plenty of questions for Jenna regarding why she still wanted them to represent her, given that they weren't a law firm anymore. But, they decided to let those questions wait for a later time, since there were more important matters at hand.

"Deal. So, what's your story?" asked Foggy.

"What I don't understand is...that's me in the video, but it's not me!" Jenna exclaimed. She was finding extreme difficulty in wrapping her head around the situation.

Her wavy brown hair was messy from her distress. When she was first arrested, tears had streamed down her face, causing her eye makeup to smear. Now that she had had time to think about the situation and calm down, she was herself again.

Well, as much of herself that she could be, you know, when she was being charged for several counts of armed robbery.

Jenna lowered her hands after wiping her eyes, the handcuffs clinking against the table. Matt and Foggy took a seat across from her, listening to what she had to say.

"How is the young woman on the camera footage not you, Miss Lawrence?" Matt asked her. "Are you insinuating that someone is trying to frame you?"

"I—I don't know. I mean, it looks like me, but I was home all day yesterday. I've never had the desire to break the law, especially rob a convenience store." She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, then leaned her forehead against her palm. "And today, all I did was go pick up some pizza for lunch." She hadn't answered the second question, but the information that she did give was a good start.

Foggy looked at Matt expectantly. Matt had gone silent, as if he was listening to something closely. Her heartbeat. Finally, he gave a small nod, meaning that she was telling the truth.

"Okay, so who else could it be, if it wasn't you? And, if this is the case, why would someone want to frame you?" Foggy asked.

The girl shrugged, wiping her nose. "I don't know. I—I tend to get along pretty well with other people; at least, I thought so."

Foggy examined the screenshots from the security camera footage that Brett had given him, flipping through the pages until he found one that gave a clear shot of the robber's face. He glanced up at Jenna, finding it to be a massive resemblance to hers. She and the robber had the same facial features, but the hair could not be compared, since it was tucked completely into a beanie.

The girl in handcuffs looked down at the photos that Foggy was studying.

"Wait," she said, noticing something in the image. "Can I see that?" Foggy handed it to her.

She picked up the screenshot, squinting her eyes as she read the words etched onto the beanie.

Livin' the dream.

Beside the words was a palm tree. The girl ran her fingers across it with recognition.

"That's my sister's beanie. She had it custom made."

"You have a sister?" said Matt.

"Yes. We're twins."

"So then that could be her in the picture."

The girl shook her head. "No." She paused for a moment, biting her lip as she recalled the memory of her sister. "She...died. A couple of summers ago. Car crash. She was wearing this when we buried her. She hated dresses, so we decided to put her into something casual and comfortable..." She trailed off, thinking about her sister.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Matt.

"No, no. It's fine. She wasn't exactly the most well-behaved out of the two of us." She forced a smile, pretending to be okay. "My mom and I decided to leave her room the way it was after she passed. I guess we're sentimental. She kept her other beanies hanging on knobs that she glued to the wall—" Jenna stopped, realizing that she was rambling once again. As she was talking about her sister, she'd temporarily forgotten where she was, and why. Once she blinked back into the present, the emptiness that she felt in her heart, which could only be filled by her sister, returned. It actually seemed a bit larger than before. "Maybe the person who is trying to frame me had a beanie made to match my sister's? Although, I've never worn it."

She continued to look at the photo, finding the yarn bracelet that her sister always wore on her left wrist.

"It's like someone is trying to frame my sister instead of me. Like they don't realize that...that she's gone."

"They must have gotten sloppy. Perhaps it's someone who knew you and your sister, but they aren't close enough to you to know about the accident. Do you have any idea of who that could be?"

"Matt. The girl in the footage looks just like her. How could anyone who doesn't know Jenna and her sister very well make themself look so much like her? Their disguise is spot-on. It would take a professional, who knows every detail."

"They must not have researched in all the right places," suggested Matt. Foggy could hear in his voice that that was extremely unlikely. "But why have so much invested in making someone look just like you, or your sister, as you say, and then rob a convenience store? Why not something bigger, like a bank, where they can actually make profit? I'm seeing no personal gain here. This person must be focused solely and absolutely on the framing." He tilted his head towards the girl, Jenna. Or, in her general direction, at least. "And you can't think of any reason why someone would want to do this? Holding grudges, trying to obtain something of yours, anything?"

Jenna shrugged at his answer.

Matt was silent, waiting.

"She shrugged," said Foggy.

"Oh!" Jenna said. "Yeah, I did shrug."

Matt smirked. "Right."

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine."

Foggy fumbled with the pen in his hand. It sure did suck having to play along with his best friend's whole blind act-thing. But he wanted to get past this. He wanted him and Matt to figure out a way to work together again. He wanted his friend back, and he wasn't going to let his judgmental side get in the way of that. Not this time.

They were all quiet, stumped. Jenna wiped her eyes again, and then her nose. The handcuffs continued to rattle.

"The evidence isn't looking good, is it?" Jenna said. "How long am I going to have to spend in jail?"

"Jenna, we're your lawyers. Proving your innocence is our job. And we won't stop trying until we do," Foggy said.

Jenna nodded, sniffling.

"Don't worry," said Matt. "We'll get you out. All you have to do is be honest with us, and you have to tell us everything you know."

She nodded again. "Okay."

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment

"Do you think they're gifted?" suggested Foggy. He reached into Matt's refrigerator, taking out two beers and walking to Matt, who was sitting on his couch.

"That's possible," Matt considered, accepting one of the beers that Foggy handed him, before sitting down in front of him. Matt removed his glasses, setting them on his coffee table. He motioned with his free hand as he spoke. "It makes sense. Perhaps an individual who can transform into someone else, which explains why they looked so much like Jenna. A professional can only do so much."

"And if you can make yourself look like someone else, maybe you get cocky..."

"...which means that you don't do all of your research, framing the wrong sister."

"Great. Now we have to find a shape-shifter that could be anyone, anywhere, at anytime." Foggy set his beer on the table, then threw his hands in the air. "Does your mojo work for detecting that?" He slumped down onto Matt's couch, right beside his best friend.

"It depends," Matt said, "on how much changes when their appearance does. They could have a different voice, or maybe not. Their different body forms could have the same heart, or different ones, so therefore different heartbeats. But, if these remain consistent, I can identify our robber in any form." Foggy's brow furrowed at Matt's complex, confusing answer.

"So...there's really no means to know either way."

"No, not really."

"Okay, so now what?" asked Foggy.

Matt sighed, scratching his head. "Uh...I don't know. Perhaps we could just wait it out?"

"And when does that ever work out for the better?" Foggy said, rolling his eyes at the situation.

"You have any better ideas?" Matt said. His eyebrows were raised as he attempted to make eye contact with his friend.

"Nope." Foggy stared at the floor.

"I guess we could be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary until we come up with a better plan," said Matt. "Jenna needs us."

"And what if someone gets hurt before then?" Foggy asked.

Matt pursed his lips together. "I guess we'll have to hope it doesn't come to that."

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

It didn't take long for something else strange to happen. Matt was listening to the morning news the following day.

"I went to Starbucks for my morning coffee, and there he was!" said a male interviewee. "David Campbell!"

"The scientist?" the interviewer replied with confusion.

"Yes!"

"You do realize that David Campbell died four years ago, right?"

"He what?" the man said, confused as well. "No. No way. I saw him. He didn't look dead to me. What kind of dead man would get a Cinnamon Almondmilk Macchiato with two extra shots?"

The interviewer paused for a moment, probably staring at the man in disbelief at his 'stupidity'. She sighed into the mic, then asked another question.

"So, what else was Campbell doing?"

"I think he bought a muffin."

Matt sat down, thinking. So, the shape-shifter was back. First, it commits armed robbery as a dead girl, and then it buys breakfast as another dead guy? Why was it taking the forms of the dead? Do they only have the ability to replicate corpses?

Matt's phone buzzed. He accepted the call.

"Are you watching the news?" Foggy said from the other end.

"Our shape-shifter decided to get some breakfast," replied Matt.

"David Campbell is dead, too. This can't be a coincidence."

Matt was silent.

"What?" asked Foggy, sensing that something was wrong.

"It—Does this even feel right to you?" Matt said. "Our shape-shifter hypothesis seems a bit bizarre, and it gives me a weird feeling."

"'Bizarre'? Not really. Aliens have come through a portal in the sky and rained hell down on New York. Sokovia floated in the air. In our lifetimes, we've seen a Super Soldier pulled out of seventy-year-old ice and still be alive. A man turns into a giant green monster if you make him mad. Another alien comes here from another realm and uses a magic hammer to beat the shit out of, well, everything. I could go on and on for decades, and the longer I go, the less 'bizarre' a shape-shifting he-she-whatever sounds. Do shape-shifters even have genders? Maybe they're a hermaphrodite."

"Well, yeah, I'm not saying that it's impossible, just that I don't think it's that...simple."

"Man, that is not simple."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever. I'm sticking with my hermaphrodite story until you come up with something better."

"If that's what you want, then fine," Matt said with a smile. "I was going to head over to the precinct to talk to Jenna again."

"Okay. I have to go look into getting our office back."

"Wait, so we're doing this then?" Matt was surprised.

"Dude, I'm your best friend. I don't need enhanced senses to know when you enjoy doing something. You were practically exploding with excitement in the precinct yesterday. So I'm going to make sure it's not a one-time thing."

"I wasn't 'exploding with excitement'..."

"Bullshit."

"I was—"

"Hey!" Foggy interrupted. "I know what I saw. Now get your ass over there now, so I can get mine to where I need to be." He hung up.

Matt pulled the phone away from his ear, eyebrows raised. After a moment of just standing there, he exhaled with...happiness.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

The 15th Precinct

"Hello, Jenna," Matt said, entering the room.

"How's the investigation going?" she asked.

"We have a few ideas," Matt said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you some questions about your sister." He could sense her mood change as he said those words.

"I—uh..." Jenna swallowed. "Okay."

"Let's start with her name?"

"Cara—er—Catherine. Catherine Lawrence."

Matt began writing on a notepad. Jenna wasn't paying enough attention to notice and comprehend that a blind man was writing neatly, right in front of her.

"How old was she, when she died?"

"Seventeen."

"Were there any passengers?"

"Yes, she was. Her boyfriend was driving, but he survived."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"His name is Peter Cambridge. He's twenty-two now, I think. Uh...he works at a bar. I think it's called Grey's."

Matt continued to take notes as Jenna stared ahead thoughtfully. She blinked a few times, biting her lip.

"The details of the accident were never all that clear," Jenna said. "The police probably got all they wanted, but my mom and I, we were never given all of the answers that we wanted to know. Just, they hit a taxi. I don't even know whose fault it was." Matt looked up at her with empathy. "For the longest time, I was so angry. I was angry at him. I tried to ask him about it, and he just shut me out. That made me even angrier. I kept trying and trying to get the answers out of him, but he always found a way to wiggle his way out of it. There was always an excuse, or a lie."

"You sound like you're still mad."

"I am, a little." Jenna stared at her hands. "Okay, maybe more than a little."

Matt asked her a few more questions, but they were easier, emotionally, for Jenna to answer. Finally, Matt decided that he had asked enough, so he rose to his feet and bid his farewell.

That's when Jenna finally spotted the notes. She looked up at Matt with perplexity, and he smiled as he left the room.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment
One Month Ago

"You own a tennis ball?" Karen asked, finding one sitting on his nightstand.

"Yeah, I decided to buy one, because why not? They're fun to throw." Matt said as he removed the sheets from his bed for washing.

Karen picked up the ball, a smile rising on her face. As Matt picked up the pile of silk sheets, his arms now full, she threw the ball at his side.

"Oof!" Matt's body crumpled slightly. He bent over from the impact. The ball bounced twice and rolled until it hit the baseboard.

"Gotcha," Karen said. She'd been trying to catch him by surprise for awhile now, with her hand, or a pillow, anything, but his senses always trumped her movements, and she always ended up in his arms. And since his arms were full, she had finally had the upper hand.

"Ah, yeah," said Matt, standing up straight. He dropped the pile of sheets onto his bare mattress. "So you did." He reached mischievously for a pillow at the foot of his bed.

With one quick motion, he tossed the pillow at Karen, hitting her arm.

"Oh, you want to have a pillow fight, do you?" Karen picked up the pillow, while Matt picked up a second one. And that's when the battle began.

They spent the next couple of minutes hitting each other with their pillows, laughing loudly, feeling like they were children again.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment
Present Day

Matt listened the morning news much more closely for the next couple of days, searching for anything involving people who had died. That's when they found the letter.

There had been a funeral in Broad Oak Cemetery, at the edge of Hell's Kitchen. As they were burying the body, a nearby grave was discovered to be empty, fresh dirt spread all around it. The empty grave belonged to a man named Jonathan Baxter, who had died in 1965.
As the grave was investigated, the letter was found at the foot of the headstone, which the news anchor read.

The Restitutionist. That was Foggy's 'hermaphrodite'.

It wasn't a shape-shifter. In the letter, this individual practically announced that they possessed the ability to raise people from the dead. The David Campbell lookalike was David Campbell. And Jenna's sister...

Catherine Lawrence was the one who robbed the convenience store, not Jenna.

These epiphanies hit him so quickly, Matt had to sit down.

After several moments of sitting there in silence as the news continued to play, Matt finally moved, reaching for his cell phone, calling his friend.

"Foggy," he said as soon as he heard him accept the call. "It's not a shape-shifter. Are you watching the news?"

"What?—no." Matt heard fumbling as Foggy did so. Then, through the other end of the phone, he heard the muffled voices of the news story that already echoed through his own apartment. "Jesus."

"If this 'Restitutionist' can raise anyone from the dead at will, who knows what they can do to this city?" Matt said.

"Uh...you know what?" Foggy said. "Let's just call this guy a 'he' so we don't have to keep guessing pronouns."

"Seriously?" Matt replied with disbelief. This situation was serious, and he decided to talk about pronouns.

"Man, look. I get it. This is some crazy shit going on here. What are we going to do?"

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Grey's Bar

It was after nightfall, so the amount of customers was well into its happy hour. Peter casually watched a bouncer restrain a violent drunk man as he worked on opening a tab for another man.

He was refilling the peanut bowl when it happened, and he looked back up, watching in horror.

Bars are noisy at night. That's a normal thing. But this noise turned every head, drunk and sober alike.

The door was pushed open with force, slamming against the wall. Another bouncer rushed to seize the offender, but he was only thrown back from the force of the firing shotgun. Screaming filled the bar as the offender stepped inside, revealing her face.

"Jenna?" Peter said with recognition and disbelief.

"Guess again," the girl with the shotgun said, removing her custom-made beanie. Instead of long brown hair falling out and spilling over her shoulders, the removal of the beanie revealed dyed-blonde strands that were only a few inches long.

"Cara?"

"Bingo!" Cara walked up to Peter, disregarding the crowd of people on either side of her, trembling with drunken fear. A few of the sobers considered doing something, but they were too curious and afraid to move.

Cara reached the counter, taking an empty seat, shotgun pointed straight at Peter's heart.  Much of the barrel had been sawed off.

"You—you died..." Peter said. Either he hadn't seen the news, or his mind was far enough away from it that it didn't cross his mind. He was a bit too focused on the barrel of the gun to think about anything else, anyway.

"Yes, I did," Cara said. "Because of you."

"I—I didn't mean to."

"Sure you didn't," Cara said sarcastically. "Because no one lies about having a license and then wrecks the car on purpose."

"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry!" Peter shouted defensively. "I did lie. I just didn't want to ride in the back of the taxi, because it's not very...romantic. But the wreck was an accident. I didn't see the other car—"

"Don't try to play with my emotions. When he pulled me out, I made a promise to myself: that I was never going to trust anyone again. Especially not you."

"Cara! Cara, please. Please," Peter pleaded, his hands held high. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah?" replied Cara. "So am I."

Just before her finger pulled back the trigger, the gun was knocked from her hands. It hit the floor several feet away. One of the sobers in the bar snatched up the gun before she could, aiming it at Cara's head.

"Don't move, bitch," the sober said.

Cara turned around to face Daredevil, holding the billy club that he'd used to save Peter's life.
"Who the hell are you?" Cara said.

"You missed a few things while you were asleep," replied Daredevil. "Catherine."

Cara stepped forward, and Daredevil heard a bullet click into the chamber of the shotgun. He once again used his billy club to knock the gun out of someone's hands.

Cara took this opportunity to make a run for it. She sprinted out of the door, past the dead bouncer, whose blood pooled on the floor around him.

Daredevil grabbed his billy club and ran after Cara. She turned a corner, running for a couple of blocks until she stopped, panting. She looked around, seeing no sign of Daredevil. That is, until he pounced on her as he emerged from the alley beside her.

"Rrrrg!" Cara grunted as she hit the sidewalk.

"Your sister is in handcuffs because of you," Daredevil whispered into her ear.