Hellcat

Chapter 75

(AN: Sorry, guys, this is a long one. There was too much angst, and it wouldn't split into two chapters well. Enjoy!)

I sat in the hospital, waiting silently. I was all bandaged up, but Agent Nadeem was questioning me at the moment, since I was one of very few individuals close to what happened and still conscious. "Allison, I need you to tell me what you saw," he told me again, urgency and frustration in his voice. "It wasn't Daredevil," I finally spoke up, shaking my head as I wiped at my dry cheeks. I still felt the dried tears there and it made my skin feel tight.

"I saw him myself," Nadeem tried to argue, frustration clear in his voice. Of course, he was frustrated. Yes, Daredevil had helped the city many times, but he was still technically a criminal. And that was before someone stole the suit and murdered a bunch of innocent people. But he didn't know Daredevil like I did. He didn't know the truth. And so, I understood, even though it pissed me off.

"Then it was someone else with the suit, okay? Look at his history," I started, finally meeting his dark gaze. "Sure, he's violent. He's done some scary things, but he only goes after criminals. No one at the Bulletin was a criminal, except Jasper Evans. And besides that, he's never killed anyone. It's not him, Agent Nadeem," I tried to tell him. But he didn't seem convinced. Again, why should he be? He didn't know he was talking to the vigilante's formerly dead partner in crime-fighting.

"Why are you alive, Allison?" he asked me suddenly, keeping his voice gentle. For a long moment, all I could do was blink at him. It was a good question. The imposter clearly had no issues with killing, so why leave me alive. He had Karen's gun. He used it to kill Jasper Evans. So why not shoot me and end it? I had been the only person besides Matt to put up a strong fight. I knew he heard my comment about the suit's weaknesses. He must know that I have some connection to the real Daredevil. So why didn't he kill me?

Finally, I sighed, shaking my head. "I don't know," I answered quietly. "I was knocked out, so maybe he just didn't bother to finish me. Just like Foggy, and Sam, and Ellison." It seemed like a reasonable enough explanation. At least, from Nadeem's standpoint. "When did you regain consciousness?" Nadeem asked me after a moment. My gaze snapped to his for a moment, confusion passing through me. but upon seeing his crinkled eyebrows, I knew he hadn't realized I had actually been knocked out tonight. "Um... just before you showed up," I told him with a small shrug.

The one thought that kept plaguing my mind was that I could have died – again. And Matt was there. He could have been forced to witness that twice. I didn't know if I would come back again, or if that would have been the end. And the worst part? That thought didn't scare me nearly as much as the image of Matt under that shelving, scissors jammed into his shoulder. It kept flashing through my head whenever I thought about how bad tonight could have gone. Those scissors could have been just a couple inches to the right and down, and they would have hit his heart. Or they could have been jammed into his neck instead, leaving him to choke to death on his own blood. The idea that Matt could have been more hurt, or worse, kept my emotions fried through the entire conversation with Agent Nadeem.

A shuddering breath escaped me as I tried to regain control over my wild emotions. I hadn't had this much trouble with control since before I died. Hell, really, it was more like before I came back to Hell's Kitchen. But even upon my return, I had only had brief lapses in control. This? This was much more than a brief lapse. This was days without control. This was days with uncertainty and fear.

I think seeing me like this unsettled Agent Nadeem. He had only ever seen me being tough or aggressive. Right now, I felt like a total wreck. I probably looked it, too. Barefooted, blood-stained clothes, tear-stained cheeks, and hair in a mess. Maybe that would garner me some sympathy when I made my next request.