The world swam. Sounds, not sights, registered first. Murky as though underwater. They made his head pound. Scents came next, horrible scents of death and decay, of sterilization that couldn't hide the bodies wasting away. Matt hated hospitals. He'd hated them ever since he was a child. That mix of fear and revulsion had never truly gone away, but he was too drugged to feel the full weight of that anxiety. The past mixed with the present in his haze.

Dancing with two women. No, three. That slow spin with Vanessa, where she danced on a knife's edge that neither of them was certain he wouldn't aim towards her. Foggy. He still hadn't gotten the full truth out of her, but Matt knew she was lying. There was something infinitely frustrating about knowing things that people wouldn't admit. To hearing Fisk threaten the people around him, peeling back the thin veneer of civility because it was inconvenient. That white suit housed a monster who would not change, not because he couldn't, but because deep down he didn't want to.

That was where they differed. Matt, too, had gotten his hands dirty when he'd shoved Dexter off that roof. Making the split second choice now to save Fisk's life at risk of his own was in no small part to not be that person again. Whether he wore a lawyer's suit or the Daredevil mask, Matt didn't want to house a monster. He wanted to be a better man. He wanted to win, but not on the terms the Fisks had set.

There was someone with him. Someones? It was so hard to tell with the drugs. His senses came in waves, sometimes faded and far away for him, sometimes so blistering that he felt he was going insane. He couldn't regulate himself and his powers like he usually did, but he was too groggy to do anything about it.

So he said the first name that came to mind as he fought his way back to the world.

"Kate?"