"It's me, Matty," Jack said. "I'm alive."

Tears were forming in Matt's eyes. "Dad..." His bottom lip twitched.

"You're all grown up," Jack said. His face was already soaked from fallen tears, which were now multiplying. His voice was shaky. "Y-you look so handsome." He smirked.

Jack reached for Matt's wrists, pulling his hands up to his face and placing them onto his wet cheeks. Matt rubbed his thumbs over his father's nose and cheekbones, and then lowered his hands to his chest, feeling his scar from the bullet that had killed him. He sensed no pain from his father as he did so.

Matt pulled him into a tight hug, and that's when his own tears began to fall.

They stayed like that for several minutes, and then they finally broke apart.

"Come inside," Matt said.

Jack wandered into Matt's apartment, looking around. Matt heard his stomach rumble. "Do you have anything to eat?"

"There's some pizza in the fridge." Matt retrieved it, then warmed it up. His legs were shaking as he walked, still trying to process what was going on.

Matt brought the pizza to his father, who had taken a seat at his table, along with a glass of water. He sat in another chair, across from Jack.

Jack ate the food quickly. He finished the water in only a few large gulps. Matt refilled it. Jack was too occupied in eating to wonder how Matt had known that it was empty, and, at this point, Matt cared more about keeping his father comfortable than his secret hidden.

By the time Jack was finished, he'd consumed seven slices of pizza and ten glasses of water. He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Now I feel normal," he said. "What year is this?"

"2016," Matt replied.

Jack counted their ages on his fingers. "What are we, about the same age now?"

"Depends on how you calculate it."

Jack stared at his son for several moments with a huge grin of awe, admiring the man he'd grown up to be. He didn't care that Matt's hair was tousled from lying in bed, or that he'd put his shirt on backwards in his haste to make it to the door.

Jack's smile quickly flipped into a frown when he thought about the last moments of his life. "I'm so sorry that I--"

"You don't have to apologize," Matt said. "I know why you did what you did, and I respect you for that.  It's my fault.  I shouldn't have pushed you."

"No, no it isn't.  I shouldn't have been a part of that."

They were silent for a few moments.

"Maggie--your mother? Did she ever--?"

"Take me in? For a time."

Jack nodded. He wasn't fully pleased, but Matt's answer would do for now.

Matt had many burning questions for his father, but he knew that his father's questions were burning hotter, since he'd had about two decades to sit on them.

Jack looked around, trying to decide which question to ask next. His eyes landed on a book that was sitting on Matt's coffee table, written in Braille. He recalled memories of forcing Matt to study so he'd have a better life than his father.

"So...what do you do for a living?" asked Jack.

"I'm a lawyer. My friend and I have our own practice."

Jack's eyebrows lifted. "Wow. Nice." He smiled, slapping Matt's shoulder playfully. Matt smiled too.

"Do I know this friend of yours?"

"No, we met in college. His name is Franklin Nelson."

"I'll have to meet him sometime," Jack said. They were quiet again, letting the idea sink in that they now had a future together, and neither one of them knew which direction it was going to go. "Speaking of your friends, you don't have a girlfriend, do you?" Matt could sense that he was expecting a confirmation that Matt wasn't single.

"Yeah, I do." Matt's smile widened.

"Damn!" Jack laughed.

Matt continued to answer Jack's questions about Foggy, Karen, and the extent of Matt's life he'd missed. He also explained what he knew about the resurrections. After a couple of hours, Jack ran his fingers over his arms, which were caked with dirt.

"I'm pretty filthy," he said. "I could really use a shower."

Matt showed Jack his bathroom and where he kept the towels and washcloths.

"I'll bring you some clothes."

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Childhood Home
Twenty Years Ago

"Matty, what's wrong?" Jack asked his son. Matt had returned home from the hospital only a couple of days ago.

Matt was sitting a the table in the kitchen, beside the refrigerator. The lamp that was usually on was turned off, now that Matt couldn't see to use it. He held his glasses in his hands, his eyes staring forward blankly.

Matt shook his head, not wanting to discuss it.

Jack frowned, pulling his scotch from the refrigerator and sat at the table in front of Matt. He set the bottle down and gently took Matt's wrist, guiding his hand to the bottle.

Matt attempted to look at his father.

"You can have another sip, but just for tonight."

Matt brought the bottle to his lips and drank. When his mouth was full, he swallowed and handed the bottle back to his father. He felt the burning as it slid down his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

Matt tried to hold back the cough, but it came anyway.

Jack smirked a little. "Do you want to talk about it now?"

Matt still didn't, but he knew his dad would keep asking until he did. "I can't do anything anymore."

"That's not true."

Matt tilted his head down, imagining the unique lines and curves in the wood that were only inches from his face. The designs that he could no longer see.

"I can't see anything."

"No, you can't. But you can still hear. You can still smell. Taste. Think. Feel..." Jack said. "Your life isn't over, Matty. It's just different. Life gives you obstacles that you must overcome." Matt continued to stare at the table. "You're the strongest kid I know. I know that your greatest accomplishments are ahead of you. Even when I'm dead and gone."

"What, you think I'll save more lives?" Matt huffed, bitterly amused. He'd sacrificed his sight to save a man's life, and his father expected him to do greater things without it? "I can't see any more cars to push people away from."

"With your mind." Jack reached forward and touched the top of Matt's head. "You're getting your new books next week. I believe in you, Matty. Believe in yourself, okay?"

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment
Present Day

Matt sat on his couch, bouncing his tennis ball. He could hear his own heart beating fast, and his blood flowing throughout. The bouncing echoed in his ears, getting louder and louder with each second, like the ticking of a clock.

The bathroom door opened, and he caught the ball in his hand.

Matt's head pointed in Jack's direction. His father was wearing a pocket t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, which Matt had set on the back of the toilet.

"You can have the bed. I'll take the couch," Matt said.

"Oh, no. I can't do that," Jack said. "You take it."

Matt shook his head. "Not gonna happen." He smiled.

Jack signed. "Fine."

"You want to go out tomorrow, Dad? I can show you around town," Matt offered.

"Thanks, Matty, but you've got a job to get to, which sounds pretty important. I'm gonna take a rain check. I can stay here and, you know, get accustomed with the modern-day Internet and stuff."

Matt frowned. "Uh...okay then. But soon."

"Right. Soon."

Matt nodded, and Jack headed into the bedroom, closing the door. Matt still sat on the couch, his chin resting on his fist thoughtfully. His eyelids began to droop, so he found himself a blanket and settled on the couch.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Jack sat on the end of Matt's bed, staring at the wall. When he was resurrected, he knew things would be awkward and way beyond his years, but something just felt...off. He tried to just shrug it off, saying to himself, a lot can happen in twenty years.

Jack sighed, looking around the room. His eyes landed on the window overlooking the city, and then followed the brick wall around until he saw Matt's nightstand. There was a prism like object, and Jack leaned forward to read it.

"A talking alarm clock. Of course." He smirked a little at the invention.

Jack wandered the room, spotting a chest. He opened the first drawer, finding a certificate from Columbia University. He found Matt's high school and college diplomas next. Tears formed in his eyes yet again.

"I'm sorry, Matty," he whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

Jack went back to the bed and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. He stared at the ceiling for over an hour, just thinking.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt towel-dried his hair and got dressed. He exited the bathroom, immediately starting breakfast. He grabbed a handful of eggs and set them on the counter. Next, he cracked half of them on a skillet and prepared an omelette, his dad's favorite. Then he made one for himself.

Right as they were complete, Jack entered the room, his hair tousled and his clothes wrinkled.

"Smells good in here," he said through a yawn.

Matt grinned and set the table. "So it does."

Jack admired his son, who was dressed up nicely in a suit and tie, then took his seat at the table.

"That's a good-looking omelette," Jack said. "You really are my son!" He attempted to crack a joke to release some tension, which had returned, against their will, as soon as he'd entered the room. It didn't work.

Matt's phone rang.

Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.

"Sorry," Matt apologized. "Um, excuse me for a second." He went into another room and accepted the call.

Jack took a bite of his omelette, raising his eyebrows in surprise at how great it tasted. "Well I'll be damned..."

He looked around, his eyes landing on a shopping list stuck to the fridge, written neatly.

But Matt can't read that... he thought. Maybe Karen shops for him.

He drank some coffee, still looking around.

Eventually, Matt returned.

"I'm gonna head out. I have to meet up with a client."

"Okay," Jack said.

Matt grabbed the shopping list to use on his way home, and then he left.

Jack stared forward, confused.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Nelson and Murdock

"Hey," Foggy said as Matt climbed out of his taxi.

"Hey," Matt replied, his voice a little shaky.

"You okay, man?" asked Foggy.

"No." Matt frowned, adjusting his tie uncomfortably.

"Why? What's up?"

"So, uh, my dad showed up on my doorstep last night."

"Oh, Jesus. That's great!" Foggy was delighted. When he realized that Matt wasn't as cheerful, he was concerned. "Um...isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm happy to have him back. It's just weird. It's been, what? 20 years?" His voice trailed off as he counted the years on his fingers. Eventually, he just shrugged. "It's just not the same, I suppose. I've wanted him back for so long. But how that he's here...I don't know what to do."

"Hey, man," Foggy said. "We will figure it out. We always do." He smiled.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment

Jack had plenty of time to reflect while Matt was gone. He'd gone to the police precinct to search for his son immediately after he came back to life. He remembered the intense relief he'd felt when he found out that Matt was still okay. And nearby, nonetheless.

An officer had dropped him off at Matt's apartment, driving away quickly when he'd gotten a call to return to the precinct. It was that very moment that Matt had opened the door.

After staying the night, he could sense that Matt was uneasy having him around. That was understandable; it had been such a long time. He knew it had been rough on Matt. He could see it in his son the moment the door opened.

We both just need time to adjust. Jack told himself. And if he needs a little distance to clear his head, then I'll leave for awhile. That's what I'll do. It's gotta be tough finding your old man on your doorstep after he died twenty years ago.

Jack sighed, then reached for Matt's laptop.

It took Jack a couple hours to become accustomed to it, along with the Internet. There were plenty of new websites, features, and other technological inventions that he hadn't anticipated as much as he'd thought. Smartphones, for example, were intriguing. But, he found himself mainly reading news articles and watching video clips.

Jack read about the Restitutionist, trying to figure out who he was and what his endgame consisted of. He didn't have much luck.

Instead, his interest fell on the emergence of a mysterious vigilante: The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He'd learned that overtime he'd become a hero, known as Daredevil.

Interesting.

He read about Sokovia, The Battle of New York, as well as a conspiracy that a man could control your mind.

There were dozens more of these stories. Random people with extraordinary powers were popping up around the globe, increasing in number rather quickly.

This world got a hell of a lot weirder since I've been around. This is a lot of crazy shit. Sure, I heard stories about Captain America when I was a kid, but wow. And turns out he's back after seventy years...damn.

He didn't yet cease to explore the Web, instead trying to catch up on as much as he could. There was a little more food left in Matt's fridge, which he munched on as he continued to scroll.

Hours passed. Once the laptop battery had died, which was around lunchtime, he'd curled up on the floor beside the wall outlet, still reading. His eyes were blurry from staring at the screen for so long, so he decided to finally take a break and have a beer.

He was halfway through the bottle when Matt came home, a few grocery bags in his hands.

"Hey, Matty," Jack said. He watched his son set down the bags, remove his glasses, and loosen his tie.

"Hey, Dad." His voice was still uneasy, but very much improved. This made Jack feel relieved. "What...um, how are you doing?"

"Better," Jack said. "I've mainly been looking at the news. Your laptop is plugged into the outlet. I can put it away if you'd like..."

"Oh, no, it's fine. I'll take care of it later."

"Okay."

Matt reached into the refrigerator and got a beer for himself, then sat beside his father on the couch.

Jack finally decided to ask a question. "How'd you know I was sitting here?"

"I just followed your voice?" Matt made himself sound confused, but he sensed suspicion in his father's voice. He knew that he was going to find out before long, especially living in the same apartment. But, he didn't want to tell him. Not yet.

"Oh, yes. Of course." This made Jack feel like he'd asked a dumb question. He decided to wait until later to ask anything else.

He knew something was off. His son may have grown up without him, and they still had a lot to catch up on, but there was something important that Matt wasn't telling him.

He was going to find out what.