Hello, readers and welcome to my first story (to be posted) on fanfiction! I'm really excited about this one since I won't be following the tv series (at least in the beginning, season 2 may or may not come into play later). I am a huge Marvel fan and have dabbled in a few different ideas before, but Daredevil (and Matt Murdock) kind of just stole my heart away. This story will be taking place right after the end of season one, within a month of Fisk's downfall. If you happen to see any mistakes in timing or setting then please leave me a review or PM me. I will fix them as soon as possible.

Also, I will be naming chapters after some of my favorite songs and I'd love to see who can figure them out. Even the title of this story comes from a line in a song.

Without any further word, enjoy!

Chapter 1 - When the Day Met the Night

It had been a very rough day.

Winnie had just gotten home from the office after the last meeting with Mr. Jackson, who was suffering from fairly severe anxiety and slight paranoia. The man was middle-aged and at one point had a promising career in the police force, a beautiful wife, and a happy life. Of course, the battle of New York had left its scars on not just the country, but also, it's people. It seemed every day Winnie had more and more patients coming to her with fears of aliens and destruction. So far it had been a struggle with Mr. Jackson, like many others with his newfound post-traumatic stress, but she was confident in getting through to the kind man and helping him integrate back into civilian life.

With a tired, yet pleased, sigh of exhaustion, Winnie dropped her apartment keys into the small glass bowl that held all her mail and loose change. She slipped out of her burgundy coat and kicked off her heels before moving through her small two-room apartment with a hum. The young woman loved her job, despite the temperamental clients and the sometimes odd hours, but she loved getting to go home and just relax even more. Winnie could drink peppermint tea, let her hair down, and walk around without a bra on. It was her safe haven, this tiny little apartment deep in the slums of Hell's Kitchen. Her sanctuary.

She was just about to start pulling bobby pins out of her blonde hair to release it from its tight bun when a loud knock came at her door. The pounding was frantic, causing Winnie to jump in surprise and quickly hurry over to the door, opening without a second thought. She never really bothered with the peephole, though considering the area Winnie lived in, she really should. Before her stood a young girl with wild red hair, light brown eyes and freckles standing out against the shockingly pale color of her skin. The pretty girl wasn't what drew Winnie's attention, though.

It was the blood covering the redhead and her masked companion.

Winnie had seen the news, had heard about the masked vigilante like everyone else, was told he was a terror and a menace. She knew this, yet when confronted by Danny, the redhead, struggling to hold up the heavily bleeding masked terror in front of her apartment, Winnie couldn't accept what the media had said. "Come inside." She instructed quickly, moving out into the hall and pulling the man's other arm over her own shoulders to help drag him inside. Danny didn't say anything, too busy quivering and holding up the masked vigilante to talk. Winnie shut the door behind them using her foot and motioned for Danny to continue to her bedroom, where they tried to gently lay the wounded man down. He groaned when the two woman accidentally dropped him onto the bed, but otherwise remained unconscious

"H-he just passed out a lit-little bit ago. I-I didn't know w-where else to g-go." Danny stuttered out, unusual for the girl who often swore like a sailor and drank like a fish. She almost always stood to her full height, confident in her curvy body and pretty features, but now she seemed to shrink into herself as if trying to hide away. Winnie took in the bruises on Danny's arm and face, more concerned with the young girl than the masked man laying on the bed. "You need to save him! D-Do the thing, help him!" Danny suddenly began to shout, grabbing the blonde woman by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. Winnie was none too pleased but remained calm as she quickly grabbed onto Danny's arms.

"Danny you need to calm down. I'll help him, but you need to go get cleaned up and wait for me out in the living room. Can you do that?" Her voice was gentle yet stern, taking on her 'Doctor' voice as she tried to soothe the obviously distressed redhead. Slowly Danny loosened her hold on the older blonde, some of the stress leaving her body at Winnie's calm instructions. Finally, she nodded and Winnie gave her a soft smile. "Good. Go lock the front door, get cleaned up, and help yourself to anything in the fridge."

After Danny left and closed the bedroom door behind her, Winnie shot into action, quickly moving over to the masked vigilante to inspect his wounds. Blood covered most of his right side where Winnie could see he had been stabbed. He also looked to have bruising on his face, though that was minor in comparison. First thing first was removing his shirt, which was by no means easy. The small blonde sat on the bed and, with a large huff, pulled the unconscious man up to lean against her in what closely resembled a loose hug. He groaned again, but the sound was soft, prompting her to ignore it and instead focus on grabbing the bottom of the man's black fitted shirt. Winnie couldn't hold back her wince as she pulled the blood and sweat soaked shirt up the man's body, knowing it was probably causing him some pain being moved around so much. She managed to wiggle the shirt off and gently lay the man back down, one hand behind his back while the other cradled his head. Her dress, which had been a cute floral number with an A-line skirt, was now covered in the man's blood from their semi-hug. She sighed, sad at the loss of such a pretty dress but knowing the masked man needed her full attention. Speaking of masks…

Winnie reached out for the mask, her fingers just brushing the edge of the black fabric before she jerked back as if electrocuted. What was she doing? Obviously he was keeping his identity a secret for a reason; Winnie had no place removing the mask hiding his identity, especially when he was in dire need of medical help. She sighed, shaking her head, and turned her attention back to his wounds only to breathe in rather sharply. The wound was bad, right below his ribs on his right side and bleeding profusely. She noticed a few other cuts now that his shirt was removed, but the stab wound was definitely what needed her attention first, as it may have hit an artery or nicked one of his internal organs.

She was glad he was unconscious because this part was much easier when the stranger injured wasn't aware. Winnie had a few tough cases when someone had been badly hurt but was too closed off to allow her the chance to help. The blonde had a feeling that, if this man were awake, he'd be far too stubborn to let her help him. With a deep breath in she placed her hands upon the stab wound, closing her eyes and ignoring the way his sticky, hot, blood slid over her fingers. Instead, she concentrated on his heartbeat, which was dangerously weak, and allowed her own heart to slow down to match. It was something that came with years of practice, allowing her mind to relax and reach out to the man she was touching. It was easy to connect to him, his unconscious mind unguarded as it would be while awake, but maintaining the connection without knowing him well was a struggle. If she knew the person, all she had to do was find a memory, something they shared, and hold on. Yet the thought of going through a stranger's mind without permission made her sick, and in the prospect of keeping this man's identity secret, she chose to hold on without a memory to help. Of course, that was easier said than done, and came with a few complications.

The first thing she felt when connecting to another person was, without fail, pain. The unbearable amounts of pain would suddenly begin to flow into her from the connection, along with a typhoon of other emotions. The masked man was no different and Winnie couldn't help but gasp when she felt his pain, wanting desperately to pull away. Instead, she held onto the connection and tried to taper off some of the sting. It was hard since the pain was a part of what she did, but after a few tense moments, she became used to the burning sensation now present in her own side. Once she was inside his mind and body, so to speak, she could tell that thankfully the blade hadn't broken off when the vigilante had been stabbed. Unfortunately, this would not be a very easy heal; several arteries had in fact been hit, and some internal organs, along with severe muscle damage. It took a few more moments of feeling the wound from the vigilante's perspective before Winnie was ready to carry on.

Actually healing the wound was surprisingly less complicated than making the connection, though it was far more taxing than the latter. In fact, healing a wound was remarkably like CPR. Perhaps an odd comparison, but instead of an awkward kiss, she got to touch their open wounds, and instead of breathing air into their lungs she gave them life.

Okay, so maybe they weren't so similar, but Winnie had never really been able to put into words what she did. It wasn't something she could describe, it was something that could only be felt.

She held onto the connection with the masked vigilante, knowing he wouldn't last much longer if she didn't get to work. Another deep breath before she started to pour herself into his injuries, willing them to heal using her own energy. His body tensed, which Winnie had already expected, and without breaking her connection she moved to sit on top of his legs to hold him in place. Sometimes the person she was healing would thrash about, their body so unaccustomed to the accelerated healing that it reacted violently. Thankfully the masked man didn't seem to be one of those patients, as his body relaxed again after a few moments. Winnie held the healing connection for a while, feeling her body grow weak the longer she healed him.

His wound had been bad, far worse than the blonde generally dealt with, but she held on as long as possible. It weakened her to heal someone, as she used some of her own health, her life force, or whatever, to do such. She could hold out for a while since she had done this many time before, but potentially fatal wounds always kicked her ass in the end. Eventually, it became too much and, with a loud gasp, the connection shattered and a backlash of all the pain she had been blocking came crashing down on top of her. For a few moments, all she felt was searing pain, causing Winnie to crumple up beside the healed man as tears fell down her face and the aftershocks of pain filled her. She should have been more careful, should have pulled back sooner, but the thought of a man dying because she gave up too soon just didn't sit right with her.

It took a few minutes before the pain began to subside, leaving her freezing cold and a bit jittery, as it always did, and soon to be followed by complete exhaustion. She cast another look at the man she had saved, his handsome face partially covered by the black mask. Once more she thought about taking it off and seeing what he really looked like, but instead, she rolled out of bed, dragging a blanket with her, and slowly made her way out into the living room.

Danny sat there, still looking shaken up, but stood instantly when she saw Winnie stumble from her bedroom. The blood soaked blonde smile gratefully at the young girl and allowed herself to be led over the couch to sit down. For what felt like the hundredth time, Winnie was glad she had black furniture. "Are you alright?" Winnie winced at the raspy quality of her own voice, hearing the weariness so very clear in it. Danny gave an unsteady laugh and shook her head.

"I should be asking you that. Here." The blonde nearly moaned in happiness when Danny held out a cup of hot tea, already smelling the soothing peppermint. She took a long sip and let the warmth fill her cold body, allowing herself to relax after the stressful act of force healing. It was always easier if she knew the person and they trusted her, allowing for an easier connection, but unconscious patients worked well enough.

"You know, when I claimed to have an 'open door' policy, I wasn't expecting you to bring me home a wanted criminal." Winnie informed Danny with a small amused smile, sarcasm coating her words.

The redhead frown, surprisingly unapologetic as she replied passionately. "He's not a criminal! He saved my life tonight. I was walking home from 46th street when the men grabbed me up. They took me to the docks and had me and some other girls in containers ready to be shipped off." Winnie could feel her whole body once again stiffen as Danny spoke, familiar with the story. Many girls and children were being stolen off the streets for prostitution or manual labor. It was disgusting and hearing how close Danny had been to being taken made the blonde feel sick. "He told us to run b-but… but I was scared. I couldn't move."

"You were afraid, Danny. That's nothing to be ashamed of." Winnie spoke soothingly, reaching out to touch the other young woman's hand. Danny was familiar to her, someone she had known for a while, so it was easy to pick up on the woman's distress. The more time Winnie spent with someone the easier it was to pick up on their emotions, similar to the mental connection she made with whoever she healed. "It's alright. Keep going." She urged the girl, knowing Danny needed to talk about it, as well as Winnie needing her own curiosity sated.

The freckled woman nodded and continued her story softly. "He grabbed me, I thought he was gonna k-kill me, but then this other guy came out of nowhere with a knife and just-" Danny breathed in a deeply as Winnie set her tea down before promptly pulling the frightened girl in for a hug. It was no surprise that Danny began to cry, the blonde had felt it coming, and she murmured soft words of comfort to the sobbing redhead while rubbing her back. "H-He was moving me away from the guy. T-trying to s-save me and- and I got him stabbed because I-I couldn't move my stupid fe-feet!"

"Hey, none of that now," Winnie replied sternly after pulling back to examine the other woman. "By no means should you blame yourself. You had a traumatic experience and should never feel like it was in some way your fault."


"No buts. That man does what he does to protect innocent people - people like you. I'm sure he'd take getting stabbed over you, or any other innocent person, getting hurt." Winnie spoke confidently, her green eyes honest as she forced Danny to look at her. After a moment, the young woman nodded her head in understanding, making Winnie to sigh softly in relief. Exhaustion was fast approaching and she knew that this conversation would have to be continued another time.

As if sensing just that, Danny stood up from the couch and grabbed the black hoodie she'd taken off earlier, pulling it back on now to most likely hide the blood covering her shirt. "I should get home, it's really late and you're tired. Thanks for… handling it, Angel." Winnie smiled at the redhead, waving off her thanks and the nickname. She hadn't come up with it nor had she ever tried to hide her real name, but all the kids still called her 'Angel' when they came to her for help. She still laughed when remembering the name's origins, which only a few of her very first patients knew about. As for those who didn't know the story behind the name, perhaps it was easier for them to call her 'Angel' instead of 'Winnie'. Seeing her as this benevolent creature of God rather than a freak with unexplainable powers might be easier for some people to swallow.

After saying her goodbyes to Danny and locking the deadbolt behind her, Winnie was barely able to make it back to the couch. She fell upon it with a deep sigh, not caring that she was still in her bloody clothes or that her couch was quite uncomfortable to sleep on. After a full day of work and healing a deeply injured vigilante, she deserved a nap.

Matt woke to unfamiliar sounds in a very unfamiliar bed. The sheets, undoubtedly made from cotton, felt like sandpaper against his skin and smelt heavily of an unfamiliar woman. For a moment, he wondered if he'd gone drinking with Foggy the night before and miraculously gotten lucky as well as very wasted, when he quickly remembered what actually transpired the night previous. The kidnappers at the docks who he had dealt with and, unfortunately, being stabbed while pulling a scared woman out of the way. If only he had his new suit, it would have protected him from the blade, but currently, Fisk's man was busy putting the finishing touches on it and Matt was stuck with his old black getup. At the thought of his severe injury, his hand instantly went to where the knife wound had been, only to be surprised. Where he had been stabbed was only smooth flesh interrupted by the slightly raised scars of what felt like a fully healed knife wound. He scowled, not understanding how he could have fully healed while sleeping since he was very certain at one point he had been bleeding out and very close to death.

A clattering brought his attention once more to the other person in the room, reminding him of the possible danger. "Oh! You're awake!" Her voice was unfamiliar, not Claire like he'd been hoping nor was it the girl who had drug him away from the docks, bleeding and very possibly dying. He heard the woman's quiet steps across the wooden floors of the apartment before the bed beside him dipped from her weight. "You've been asleep for quite a while. I was starting to get worried." She continued pleasantly, apparently not picking up on Matt's rather sour mood. The woman was around his age, perhaps a year or two younger than himself, and seemed healthy by her strong heartbeat and fluid blood flow. By the softness of her footsteps, she had to be rather short or very slim, perhaps both, and by the ruffling of clothes he could tell she wore a skirt made of some sort of soft fabric.

"Who are you?" His voice remained calm, but inside he was trying his best not to panic. How was it he kept ending up in these situations? Surely this woman had looked under his mask to identify him - who wouldn't? How many more people could discover his secret before the police, or worse, discovered his true identity?

He still wasn't sure where he was, only that the smell of his blood coated the bed he lay on as well as the woman who now sat beside him. Beneath the smell of his blood he noted that she smelt like peppermint tea and something floral - honeysuckle, he realized - along with the awful artificial smell of her shampoo, which he couldn't quite place. Matt could also tell she had been crying at one point that day, the salt still lingering on her cheeks from where the tears had dripped down her face. She had also worn perfume, but after a long day of work and his blood splattered across her, the usual oppressive scent was masked well enough. Overall she had a pleasant smell, not heavy and overbearing like some people who enjoyed dousing themselves in cologne or by using far too much hand lotion, though at the moment it was quite irrelevant how nice she smelt.

He felt the woman shift her weight uncertainly, obviously debating on his question, before she replied in a playful, yet slightly forced, tone. "Call me whatever you like, handsome." Matt's patience was quickly running out and without much thought he sat up, his hand wrapping around the woman's throat. He held her loosely so as not to hurt or bruise her, though the threat was obvious.

"Who are you?" He repeated with far more force, despite the spinning in his head and the fact that he was holding onto the woman who more than likely just saved his life. Her heartbeat picked up speed and even if he hadn't been touching her he would have felt the way her skin suddenly became hot. For a second Matt mistakenly took it for fear, but was soon proven wrong when the woman leaned in even closer to him.

Her warm breath washed over his face, once again reminding Matt of peppermint tea as she spoke. "I'm the person who just saved your ass, so be a bit more grateful." She informed him in an incredibly cold voice, surprising the vigilante with her lack of fear. Annoyance replaced surprise as Matt opened his mouth to once again demand answers, but was quickly cut off. "I've respected your wish to remain anonymous, so respect mine."

This caused for some pause, Matt processing this new information as his hold on the woman loosened further, though she never pulled away. "You didn't remove my mask?" He tested with some disbelief. Claire had removed his mask while he was unconscious, it wasn't such a stretch to assume this woman had done similar. "You don't know who I am?"

"I don't know who you are and I didn't take off your mask." Her heartbeat remained steady, though he could still feel the heat in her skin from the anger she had previously felt. "Now will you release me? Or do you plan to prove all those newspapers right and hurt an innocent?" Matt grit his teeth at the challenge in her voice but released her anyways. He wasn't a monster. Perhaps he had assumed too much, but in his half lucrative state and the threat of his friends being put in danger, Matt didn't always make the best decisions. Despite that, he wouldn't hurt a defenseless woman who had done nothing so far but help him.

She stood from the bed, turning away from Matt as she moved to the opposite side of the small room. Considering the bed he was laying on, Matt assumed it was a bedroom, especially when he heard the woman begin to shuffle around clothing and hurriedly toss it into a hamper. Obviously, she wasn't aware he was blind if she was bothering to clean up, or perhaps she was a nervous cleaner? No, her heart was steady and she showed no other signs of being nervous.

"Angel." She suddenly spoke, coming to a halt at the foot of the bed and turning to face him with a soft swish of her skirt. Matt cocked his head slightly, confused by what she was trying to say. He was by no means an angel, especially considering the moniker he had taken on as the vigilante. "I mean, that's what the kids call me. I suppose you can call me that as well. It'll be… ironic." He could hear the smile in her voice, that teasing quality from earlier creeping back into her tone. Matt had absolutely no plans of calling her by such a name, had no plans of making any kind of bonds with this woman. She could be dangerous, and if not, he wouldn't allow a repeat of Claire and the Russians to take place. Yet, despite this, Matt still found himself curious about the mystery woman.

"'The kids'?" He repeated in question, wondering if the woman he spoke to had children. She didn't smell like she had any kids or a husband, but perhaps the coppery smell of his blood was covering up the scent of other people.

"That's what I call the trouble makers around here. Bunch of teenagers and 21 year-olds without a clue what to do with themselves." She spoke about them with affection and a sadness he hadn't expected, as if she understood the pains of growing up in a bad situation or had simply seen too much in her short life. The young woman continued to explain to him what she meant while finishing up cleaning. "Nobody really watches out for them… so I try to. If they get hurt or need to talk to someone, they come find me."

Matt didn't reply, still processing everything she'd said so far. Instead, he nodded and began to sit up once again, huffing softly as he was hit with a wave of dizziness. Quicker than he thought she could manage, the woman was by his side and attempting to gently lay him back down. "I need to go." He grasped her wrists and tried to move her away, but she stubbornly refused and was quick to use her body weight against him.

"Oh no, you aren't going anywhere Mister 'I-Like-To-Jump-Off-Buildings-And-Get-Stabbed-By-Bad-Guys'." He was surprised when she sat down on his legs, attempting to pin them. Matt knew he could easily get her off, as she was quite slim if her wrists and throat were any indications, but just the small action of sitting up was exhausting. With a scoff at her words he lay back down, frustration eating away at him as the woman continued to sit on his legs. She must have noticed his annoyance, for she began to speak once more in a teasing tone. "Usually, when men wake up in my bed they aren't so eager to leave." Had he not been so anxious Matt would have laughed at her obvious attempt to lighten the mood, but instead he simply breathed out a soft snort of amusement. This seemed good enough for the woman since her heart picked up and warmth spread to her cheeks in delight. The good feeling passed, though, and she became more serious. "You're going to need at least another thirty minutes of rest before you leave. I may have fixed the damage, but your body is still catching up to the accelerated rate that it was healed. You need to let it catch up before you go back out to jumping rooftops and beating up bad guys."

At her words, Matt was finally able to figure out why he felt so wrong. His body was practically buzzing, a mixture of adrenaline and endorphins flooding his veins even though he was out of danger and no longer hurt. Apparently the woman was correct, his body was trying to catch up to his new state of being well and healthy. "How did you…?" He trailed off uncertainly, not sure what to call it. Healing? Is that what she had done?

He felt her stand up, releasing his legs now that he seemed a bit more likely to remain in bed. "I, uh, don't really know myself. It's just always been something I could do. Never really knew why." Matt listened closely to her heart beat for a lie but found none. Instead, he got the distinct impression she was a bit… disappointed? It was hard to tell without being able to see her expression, but he could tell by the change in tone and the sagging of her shoulders that her mood had gone down.
"Why did you help me?" Matt decided to quickly change the subject, realizing he wouldn't get much more from her if he continued to ask about however she had healed him. For the moment, it didn't matter, though he knew later that day he would be looking into such abilities.

She took the change in conversation in stride, once more perking up as she moved across the room to open another door. She raised her voice to be heard in the other room, though Matt didn't really need her to. "That red-haired girl with the freckles, Danny, she brought you here to me. I don't know how much you remember since you were bleeding out from a really bad stab wound when she dragged you in here, but you saved her life." He listened as a faucet was turned on and then off before she returned with a glass in hand, ice clinking in the bottom of it as she set it on the bedside table beside him. "Figured you might be thirsty. Anyways, Danny told me about you rescuing her and some other girls on the docks. It's a good thing she brought you here to me or else you might be, uh, sleeping with the fishes."
Matt took the glass and sat up slightly to drink, even though he could smell the heavy iron concentration in the water. He was too tired to care, ignoring the horribly strong taste of pennies as he swallowed a few gulps. After he finished he lay back down, hoping this fatigue would pass soon. "... thank you. For helping me and for not…" He gestured to his mask, not bothering to elaborate.

"For not taking a peek at the goods?" She filled in with amusement, causing Matt to breathe out a soft laugh. "Oh I was tempted, trust me, but I knew it wouldn't be fair to do something like that while you were unconscious." He could hear the sincerity in her words and her heart beat, nodding his head in response. "Besides, next time you take off your clothes for me, I doubt it will be because you need healing."

An unexpected laugh burst from Matt at her rather direct innuendo, knowing from the heat of her body that she was only half joking. "You're… rather odd." He felt flattered, and any other day as Matthew Murdock he may have returned the sentiment, but for the moment, he was tired and currently dressed as his crime-fighting alter ego.

"Mmm, I prefer… optimistic. Very pointedly, so." She supplied with what he assumed was a very cheeky grin.

Matt shook his head. "Do you always flirt with dangerous vigilantes?"

"Only the cute ones that end up bleeding all over my bed." She drawled in a sarcastic tone, though he could tell the smile was still on her face. She suddenly raised her wrist, the soft ticking from it letting Matt know she was looking at her watch, before swearing rather colorfully. He raised both brows at her, though he knew the expression was concealed by his mask. "I'm going to be late for work if I don't get going."

Matt frowned at this while the woman stood and quickly began to move about the room, grabbing clothes, shoes, and a heavy bag that he assumed was a purse. "What time is it?" He wondered what kind of job she could have that started in the middle of the night.

"Almost six." She paused before adding on hastily, "A.M. You slept through most of the night. Accelerated healing of a fatal wound can be pretty tiring, plus you bled out a whole bunch. I'm definitely going to need new sheets. And a new dress. I liked this one, too." She was beginning to ramble, but Matt was content to let her continue as he processed this new information. He had wasted a whole night of crime fighting in the woman's bed. Usually, such a thought wouldn't be so disappointing, but considering the fact that he spent the whole time bleeding out or completely unconscious, Matt was rather displeased.

Suddenly the woman teetered dangerously, having to grasp onto her dresser to remain standing. Matt was shocked to hear her heart rate suddenly drop, her body going cold without warning. "Woah moved a little too fast there." He heard her grumble. Matt was about to climb out of bed and help the mysterious woman, but she was already straightening up and waving him off as her vitals returned to normal. "Don't get up, I'm fine. Just a bit more tired than I realized." He could hear the lie when she claimed to be fine but didn't call her out on it.

She moved once more to his side, reaching out slowly to touch his chest. He tensed under her hand, though she showed no signs of noticing as she continued to feel his side where the stab wounds had previously been. Now all that remained were faint scars, ones to match the many others crisscrossing his body. "I think I healed up all the internal damage, but you really should take it easy today. Leave whenever you want, but be careful to stay out of sight. I have a fire escape connected to my bedroom window that you can use to get to the roof or the alley behind my apartment." Her hands, which were as soft and petite as the rest of her was, lingered for just a moment on his chest as her heart beat picked up. Quickly she moved away, picking back up the objects she had sat down during her dizzy spell. "I have to go shower and then immediately run off to work, but if… if you ever need someone to save your ass again… you know where to find me."

There was a hesitance in her voice, her heart stuttering along with her nervous offer. For a moment, Matt believed it was because she was afraid of him, but then she continued in a softer voice. "I know about the things you've done, the people you've hurt… but I also know about the people you've saved. Some of them were my friends. So if you need the help, come to me." There was a confidence in her voice he hadn't expected and her steady heartbeat told him everything he needed to know.

He gave a slow nod in response, noting how her shoulders drooped just a bit as she turned to go. He contemplated his next move for only a second and spoke quickly when she opened her bedroom door. "Thank you again… Angel." She didn't respond, but the quickening of her heart rate and the warmth that flooded to her cheeks was more than enough answer for him. He listened until she left the room, and then until she had turned on the shower and stepped inside before he stood from the bed and hastily found his blood-soaked shirt to redress. He had been feeling better for a couple minutes now but had wanted to hear what the strange woman had to say.

As he climbed nimbly from the window and out onto her fire escape, ready to head back home for some more sleep, he was quite glad he'd stayed.

Alright so I am sure you all have some questions or concerns, but just stick it out a little longer. A lot of stuff will be explained within due time, like the exact details of Winnie's healing, how she got the nickname 'Angel' (I promise it's not just a cheap excuse for the whole Devil/Angel thing), why exactly Winnie shows Daredevil zero fear (it's not because she's just some badass, there is a legitimate reason), and many other questionable story details you may be wondering about.

I will tell you this: Matt is going to wear the original black outfit from season 1 for a couple chapters, partially because he can get injured easier in it, but mainly because it was super hot? Don't get me wrong, I did the new red suit, but the black one was all street fighter chic.

Currently I have up to 5 chapters written and I will be posting them whenever I finish making corrections, so if you've got any suggestions on Winnie or the direction of this story, please send me a message! Thanks!