Purgatory

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I thought you'd have read the papers.”

“I have. But confession is for you to tell me your perspective on things.”, father Lantom stated. “It won't be much of a confession if you don't say anything.”

“I'm not sure I want to talk about it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To hide?” Matt pulled his lips into a joyless smirk.

“From whom?”

“Myself.”

Tommy had been a paramedic for over 20 years now and never before had he been called to such a strange scene. A whole building had collapsed and nobody knew how many survivors there were. It was also fairly dangerous to go near the crash-side and have a look, because it was unclear how safe the whole ruins were.

And yet here he was, carefully making his way through all the dust and dirt and stone. Of course he wasn't the only one looking for people that were still alive, but he was the only the one in this small sector. So after about half an hour, he was ready to give up and let somebody else take over. His whole body hurt from lifting too heavy stones and his lungs ached after breathing in too much dust.

He was already turning around, when suddenly he noticed a red fabric in between all the grey and white. It looked oddly misplaced, like something lost and forgotten. Tommy quickly called for some backup and only shortly after three more people came running. Well, more like stumbling and trying really hard not to trip.

“Is that …?”, one woman asked with a raised brow.

Tommy nodded tentatively. “I think so, yeah.”

“Let's get him out, then.” She kind of nodded to herself in some kind of self-encouragement and started telling everybody where to start lifting the rubble from the unconscious man laying there. She was really good at coordinating things and they were all rather happy about it, since like this they didn't have to do it.

It took them a surprisingly short amount of time to get the man in red free, but when they finally managed to very very carefully turn him around, they noticed that he seemed to be holding on to something. Or at least he was when the building fell, now his hand was just stuck at whatever he'd been gripping.

So they kept digging.

But for a moment, Tommy allowed himself to look at the vigilante a little closer. He didn't know what he'd thought he'd look like, but this wasn't it. The man had some dark stubble and full eyebrow, jawline sharp as a razor. And even though it didn't make sense, he looked kind. Kind and warm.

How could a man look this kind and then beat people into the hospital? Though perhaps a certain amount of kindness was needed to go out every night, into the dark and into the cold, only to save people form getting mugged or raped or killed, without any kind of reward and with danger always present.

Tommy's train of thoughts was interrupted when they found woman's arm. Her skin was cold.

Matt didn't know how much time had passed, let alone where he was when he woke up. He just knew he was being carried on something, still wearing his tight suit and the sun warmed his cold face. His thoughts were too fuzzy for him to realize what that could mean for his identity.

He just wanted to go back to sleep.

But there was something else he had to take care of, first. Something important. Suddenly he caught the smell of something sweet and soft – and bloody. He knew that smell better than anything.

Elektra.

But there wasn't a heartbeat, no blood pumping through veins, no oxygen rushing into her lungs. Only silence.

But that shouldn't, couldn't be! Maybe his ears just weren't working again. He'd take that over the truth any day.

But he had to make sure, had to check.

He let every ounce of strength he had left flow into one arm, stretched it out to touch Elektra's wrist right next to him.

She was cold; so cold.

Immediately people started talking to him, asking questions. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. She was gone, and he was still here, warm and breathing and alive. And it wasn't fair, wasn't right!

That was the last thing he thought.

The remaining Defenders were still at the precinct, when their friend was found not far underground, right where Midland Circle had collapsed. They didn't know what was going on until they turned on the TV and saw the News.

Foggy nearly fainted.

Nobody knew how the press got notice of the rescue of Daredevil, but here they were, taking pictures, talking into cameras, filming. Then suddenly several medics carried two individuals away from the crash-side, one of which was dressed in red leather, the other was covered by a white sheet.

Daredevil didn't seem to be awake and had an oxygen mask put over his mouth and nose. Of course now the journalists went wild. There, only a few feet away was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, unconscious, in his costume, but without his mask, and they couldn't go look at him.

Then suddenly the vigilante moved, trying to turn onto his side, which caused the medical staff to hurriedly set the stretcher down. He stretched out one arm, and felt for the woman's arm, until he reached her wrist, nearly hauling himself off the stretcher in the process.

For a brief moment he seemed to freeze – then he went completely limp and nearly tilted off the stretcher. The medics caught him just in time, only to more or less rip open the upper part of his suit, get all kinds of weird stuff from a bag one of them carried and start CPR.

Back in the precinct, Foggy and Karen stared crying again and clinging to each other. Even Jessica looked worried and nearly broke her chair with how hard she was gripping it.