Saint Patrick's Cathedral

"Welcome back," Father Lantom said.  Matt smiled a little.

"Hey."  Matt sat on a pew.  "I've been thinking a lot about our last discussion."

"Mhm."

"And I thought I knew what I had to do, but now..."  Matt sighed.  "Things have changed."

"Have they?"

"My father showed up on my doorstep the other night."

"I see."  Father Lantom leaned on the back of his pew so he could see Matt better.  "And how do you feel about that?"

"I--I  don't know," Matt said.  "I'm happy he's back, but I don't know what to do.  A lot has happened since he died."

"Are you ashamed?"

"No...maybe.  I don't know."  Matt frowned.  "It's just...the past is all coming back.  I'd moved on, but now I feel like a kid again when he's around.  He wasn't there when I grew up, and now he is, and I don't know how to confront that."

"Are you angry?"

"No.  Just frozen.  And the fact that the Restitutionist is the reason why all of this is happening...How can I fight the person who has given me the greatest gift of all?"

"In all my years, I haven't experienced anything like the Restitutionist, but I have talked to people who have had similar emotional reactions.  Some people come back from a long prison sentence to face their families again, and they don't want to accept the reality of freedom again, or the acceptance back into society.  They don't know how to act.

"And it doesn't always turn out great for them.  Sometimes they are greeted with open arms, sometimes tears of joy, sometimes a child to hold.  But other times, they are put to shame, and no one wants to claim them after what they did.  Sometimes there is redemption, and sometimes there is depression.

"But, no matter what the people around you do or feel, it is your job to make the most of what happens to you.  Yes, he has returned by circumstances that you aren't proud of--that being some kind of vigilante that can restore life and soul--but that doesn't necessarily make him a permanent fragment of this circumstance.  Your enemy may be giving you a gift, and whether it's to get back at you, or it's merely a coincidence, you have to accept the cards you were dealt, and you can't let that cloud your judgement."

Matt nodded.

"And, as far as your father goes, he is returning from his sentence.  Whether you greet him with open arms or you ignore him, it greatly affects not only the person he will become, but also how you feel about him.  Until you figure things out between the two of you, whether that be tying up loose ends from the time before his death, or something else entirely, you will continue to feel this way about his return.  The only thing you really can do is work things out," explained Father Lantom.

"Yeah," replied Matt.  "But what about the Restitutionist?"

"Has your opinion on him changed?"

"I don't think he should be out there, resurrecting people at will."

"So then it hasn't," Father Lantom concluded.

"But I'm also grateful for my father," Matt added.  "I'm glad he's back.  Does that make me a hypocrite?  If it came down to it, the Restitutionist or my father, I'm not sure I could make the right call."

"Life is as much about your actions as it is about your reactions.  Your father is back from the dead, and you can't change that. Are you going to let this single fact hang over your head, or are you going to take advantage of it?  If a criminal saves your life, are you going to think of your life as being forever a result of everything this criminal stands for, or are you going to use this second chance to continue on with your life and be grateful for every new day?  You can take this circumstance as an opportunity to mend things with your father, make new memories, and even use his experiences to find a way to bring your Restitutionist to justice.

"This criminal didn't save your life, it gave you a new one.  Now instead of constantly connecting him to your father, make this second chance count, because not very many people get one.

"Now, does this make you a hypocrite that you were given your father back? No. Does it make you a hypocrite that you wouldn't be able to give your father up? Maybe. Some people don't know what choices they will make until they are truly faced with them. That is something you must find within yourself."

  °•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment
Two Hours Later

"Hey," Claire said after Matt opened the door.

"Hi," Matt replied.

Claire handed Matt a folder full of papers.  "It took a lot of effort to find a way to get them printed in Braille."  Although Matt could read regular ink by carefully tracing his fingers over its impressions, not only was Braille much easier and quicker for him to read, but he also had to look blind to the rest of the world.

"Thank you, Claire," Matt said, taking it.

Claire stepped inside, and Matt shut the door.  Claire sat on the couch, and Matt chose a chair. 

"So, this Luke Cage, what can you tell me about him?"

"He grew up in Savannah, had a friend named Willis Stryker--who turned out to be his half-brother--that got him into a lot of this mess, went into the Marines, became a cop, got framed by Stryker, went to prison, got experimented on, was forced to escape, saved Harlem..."  Claire trailed off a little.  "What do you want to know?  It's all in your hands, though." She motioned to the file.

"Yeah," Matt said, looking down at the file.  "Even if I could convince them to let him off for the escape, how can I prove his innocence with the framing? Is there some sort of paper trail?"

"Turns out the bad guys left a big file behind that can do just that."

"Yeah, and what's in it?"

The discussion lasted a little while longer, until Matt was satisfied with the information. 

That's when Jack stepped out of the bathroom, his hair wet from showering.  Claire turned around.  That's when Jack noticed that Matt had company.

"Hello," Jack said, a little startled.

"Oh, Dad, this is Claire," Matt said, standing up.  Claire's eyebrows shot up when she realized that Jack was his father.  "She's a friend.  The one who had a client."

"Oh, yeah," Jack said, becoming more relaxed.  "I'm Jack."

"Nice to meet you," Claire said. 

"You, too."

There was an awkward silence.  Jack finally went to the kitchen area to grab himself some food.

"Oh, don't mind me," he said, chuckling. 

Matt smiled.  "Actually, we were about to head out."

Claire shot Matt a "really, now?" look, which Matt "saw", even though he was looking the other direction.

"Oh, okay," Jack said.

Matt stood up.  "I'll, uh, I'll see you later."

"Okay."

Matt and Claire stepped outside.  As soon as the door shut, Claire was quick to say something.

"You didn't tell me your father was alive!"

Matt stood there, defeated.  "Well, this past week has been quite strange.  I don't know what to do anymore."  He sighed.  "Well I do, I just don't know how to approach it."

"If you can't come to Georgia, then I--"

"No, it's fine.  I can't stop everything just because my father is back."

"Well you have every reason to," Claire said.  "At least for a little while."

"I'm not going to.  I owe it to you and Luke to see this through.  And, trust me, Dad and I are fine."

Claire sighed.  "Okay, Matt."

"You love him, don't you?" Matt said suddenly.

"What?"

"Luke."

"I, uh..."  Claire bit her lip.  "Yeah."

Matt nodded.  "All the more reason that I have to do this."

"Are you mad?"

"Why would I be?"

"I just thought that since we--"

"Just because we kissed once doesn't make your love life my business," Matt said.

Claire nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear.  "Thank you."

"Are we still on for tonight?" Matt asked after several moments of silence.  Tonight was the night that Claire was going to introduce the guy that was supposed to watch the city during Daredevil's absence.

"Yeah," Claire replied.  "I guess I'll"--she clasped her hands together--"see you then."

  °•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

An Abandoned Warehouse, Somewhere Near the Docks
Midnight

"So, who exactly are we waiting for, now?" Daredevil asked.

"His name is Danny Rand," Claire replied.

"Danny Ra--"  Daredevil stopped for a moment to inhale.  "Are you telling me that you've got some rich kid to watch the city while I'm gone?" His voice was a little sour. How could some billionaire know anything about the streets of Hell's Kitchen?

"He's the Iron Fist."

"Yeah, and what the hell is that?"

Claire sighed.  "He's not as bad as you think."

"'As bad'.  So he's still bad."

"No...I--"  Claire stopped.  "He's just a little different.  But he's still good enough."

"We'll see."

A few minutes later, a silver sports car drove up and parked outside.  A man, who was wearing a suit and tie, climbed out of the drivers seat and ran his hands through his blonde curls. 

He was nervous.  It was like a job interview, except he had never been to one before.  The perks of having your own company.

Danny entered the warehouse.

He headed to the center of the large room, finding two people standing there: Claire Temple and a man dressed in a red suit.  A mask was covering his face, and devil horns sprouted from the top of it.  Daredevil.  They both turned in his direction.

"Danny," Claire said.  "Thanks for coming."

"Yeah," Danny said, nodding.  "It's good to see you."  Claire smiled.  Danny looked at Daredevil.  "So, is this, like, an audition?"

"You could say that," Daredevil replied.  He could sense that Danny was nervous.  "So, you're the Iron Fist."

"Yes."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"I harness the energy of Shou-Lao the Undying into my fist."

Daredevil's first instinct was to try and figure out what kind of drugs this guy was on.  But, according to his heartbeat, all apprehension put aside, Danny was telling the truth.

This world gets weirder everyday.  This shit sounds crazy, Daredevil thought.  Nevertheless, he continued on.

"And, you know kung-fu?"  Danny nodded.

That's when Daredevil threw a punch.  It caught Danny off guard, but he still managed to dodge it.  Realizing this was part of the audition, he began to fight back. 

Danny threw his own punch, and Daredevil leaned to the side.  Daredevil threw himself into a flip, which turned into a kick that landed against Danny's stomach.  Danny stumbled backwards, but then spun around and delivered his own kick, but Daredevil leapt out of the way.  Daredevil went in for a uppercut, but Danny blocked his hand with his arm and hit Daredevil with a punch of his own.

They fought for a little while longer, until Daredevil backed up and dropped his fists, satisfied.  "Not bad."

"One more thing," Daredevil said.  He motioned to the large, metal warehouse door.  "Open that."

Danny knew what Daredevil wanted to see.  He walked over to it, then closed his eyes, summoning the Fist.

Daredevil sensed an immense amount of energy surging through Danny's entire body, before trailing through his right arm and into his fist.

Danny ran, then threw himself into the air, slamming his fist against the door.  It caved in, then split in two, and Danny landed on the other side.

"Holy shit..." Daredevil whispered.

Danny climbed back to his feet, panting.  Claire was smiling.

"Where did you say you trained at?" Daredevil asked Danny as he came back inside.

"K'un-Lun," Danny replied.  Daredevil had no idea what that was, but he didn't ask.  He just held out his hand.

Danny shook it.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment
Meanwhile

Jack found himself jolting awake again.  He wiped sweat from his forehead.  He still felt the stings and throbs from the punches in his face.  The sharp slice of hot metal through his heart.  The laughing as he hit the pavement. 

"Betcha wish you'd fallen down in the ring instead of here, Murdock," his assassin had said with a grin.  "Enjoy the Afterlife."

Jack inhaled and exhaled quickly.  He headed to the kitchen for another glass of water.  And, once again, Matt was missing.

This time, Jack checked the bathroom, and it was empty.  He even opened the front door, checking the sidewalk.

Nothing.

Maybe he snuck out to go drinking?  Damn, I hope he's not an alcoholic.  Surely he has better ways to cope with his blindness.

Jack was a little worried, but he still went back to bed. 

Matty's fine.  He's always fine.

This time, Jack was still awake when Matt returned.  He heard the roof access door open and close.  After a minute or so, Jack peeked through a crack in the door. 

Matt's was too distracted--thinking about Iron Fist--to realize that Jack was watching him.

Jack managed to catch Matt, wearing his underwear, putting some kind of clothing in a box, then closing a door.  He headed to the kitchen, poured his own glass of water, took a few gulps, and took a bathroom break.  Jack was impressed with how confidently he walked around.  If he didn't know Matt was blind, he wouldn't have thought him different from a sighted person, just by the way he'd carried himself just then.

When Matt exited the bathroom, his head tilted so that his ear pointed toward Jack, finally realizing that he was being watched.  He was unsure for how long, assuming that Jack had just walked up to the door.  Because of this, Matt started walking slower, holding his hand out in front of him to feel for his surroundings.

Jack adjusted his footing, accidentally bumping the door.  The sound that it made was very audible. 

Matt turned to face the bedroom.  "Dad?  Is that you?"

Jack, realizing that he'd been made, pushed the door open and walked out of the room. 

"Yeah, it's me."

"You okay?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, yeah.  I'm fine," Jack replied.  "I'd just gotten something to drink."

"Oh, okay."  Matt knew Jack was lying...or at least that there was more to the story.

"I'm gonna take a piss," said Jack.

"Okay."

Jack went to the bathroom.  As soon as the door shut, he rested his hands on the counter, leaning forward.  He sighed, then looked at his reflection in the mirror. 

"What the hell is going on?" he whispered.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

John F. Kennedy International Airport
Two Days Later

"...and make sure you talk to Jenna about Cara.  To see if she changes her mind about representation," Matt said. 

"I will.  But I don't think she will," Foggy replied. 

"Yeah.  Neither do I."  They were silent for a few moments. 

"I can't believe you're actually doing this," Foggy said.  "Matt Murdock, the man who's never left New York in his entire life, is about to get on a plane and fly to Georgia."

Matt smiled.  "Yeah, I surprise myself sometimes."

Claire walked up to the duo, holding a water bottle she'd just purchased from a vendor.  "Well, I guess this is it."

Matt nodded.  Karen joined them as well.

"Are you sure you don't need me to come with you?" Claire asked.  She felt kind of bad for not going, especially since this was Luke.  But, she'd visited him recently, and Hell's Kitchen was becoming chaos.  And she'd promised Matt she'd stay. 

"Nah.  Just make sure Danny doesn't punch a hole in anything he shouldn't."

Claire smiled a little, nodding.  "Okay, then.  Good luck."  She pointed at him with the bottle, then walked away, heading home.

"You're gonna have to let me in about this Danny guy," Foggy said.

"Oh, you'll probably see him around," Matt replied. 

"You still owe me something."

"Okay, then...turns out he's a billionaire that was raised in a monastery, where he gained the ability to focus energy into his fist and throw hard punches."

"Ahhh..." Foggy said, thinking it all a bit strange.  "Yeah, that's not weird at all." Karen smirked.

"That's what I thought, but he's telling the truth."

"Damn, this city is getting weirder and weirder."

"Yes, it is."

"Well, I guess I should head back, too," Foggy said. He turned to Karen. "Make sure he doesn't do something crazy like jump out of the plane," he joked.

Karen gave a quick nod. "I can do that."

"All right then. I'm gonna immerse myself in loads of paperwork and whatever shit gets thrown at me in the next however-long-it's-gonna-last. Have fun!" He turned around and left.

Matt and Karen looked at each other, smirking.

"He sure seems happy we're leaving," Karen said with a laugh.

"He's probably happy to have the office to himself so he can sing as loud as he wants," Matt replied, chuckling.

"I caught him singing once."

"Oh, really? Should we sign him up for The Voice?"

"Nope." Karen clasped her hands together. "Not at all."

They both laughed again, and headed to drop off their bags. Matt picked up Karen's first, setting it on the scale. He was in such a good mood, because despite stepping out of his comfort zone by crossing the country, he was able to spend these next few days with the woman he loved.

He was feeling like a gentleman today more than a blind guy, which meant that he was carrying Karen's bags and holding her hand as confidently as someone who had their sight.

So yeah, he didn't mind when the employee standing beside the scale thought it odd that a blind man was the one weighing the suitcases. He just smiled at her and walked away, one hand around Karen's, the other holding his cane, which tapped against the floor rhythmically.