_4am.

Your eyes snap open and you see nothing. Not a damn thing. Normally light filters in or you can see the glow of the clock you strategically placed across the room. Next to your phone. You learned a long time ago not to sleep with it next to your bed if you wanted to make it to court and not look like a zombie. There's no rhyme or reason to why you're awake in those first few seconds, as your heart pounds in your chest and you feel sweat beading on your forehead. You try to remember to take deep breaths, you try to remember anything about falling into a panic. You blink twice, three times. You stick the heels of your hands into your closed eyes and press until you see stars. You open again and you can see. Just a fluke. Some weird occurrence. Then comes the pain. Blinding pain you think to yourself, and you'd laugh if it wasn't for the pounding in your head. Like someone took an axe to the back of your skull. You stumble out of bed and turn on the light in the bathroom, but that makes everything hurt twice as bad. A quick pass of your fingers has you fumbling the light back off, and reaching into the cabinet to grab the advil -- at least you hope that's the bottle you grab. You take twice as much as usual, just to get the edge off.

"Fuck," You growl at nothing in particular, taking a minute to breathe.

You break your own rule and grab your phone, turning it onto the lowest light settings. You punch in (a little too aggressively) a search. "Blinding + Migraine."

Search Results: Ocular Migraines Explained. Ocular migraines are painless, temporary visual disturbances that can affect one or both eyes. Though they can be frightening, ocular migraines typically are harmless and self-resolve without medication within 20 to 30 minutes. "Painless my ass." You growl and shut off your phone. That must be it. Nothing to worry about.

_9am.

You're always trying to get to the office earlier, but today just wasn't going to be that day. You've made some attempt not to look like a hobo rolling into the office, but with mussed hair and dark glasses still adorning your face, that probably hasn't gone over too well.

"Oohh, are you trying out full douchebag with the dark shades, Mason?" You've had a healthy (if slightly childish) banter going with the receptionist at the law firm for years now, but this time it takes you a full thirty seconds before you realize she's talking to you. A slight smile and shrug of your shoulders is your initial response, before clearing your throat and saying yeah, you've got a headache. She tries to pull you in with questions of a hangover or partying too hard on a weeknight, but your sense of humor is just shot to shit today. You feel off, and it's more than just the headache. She seems to get the hint and you promise to yourself you'll buy her lunch so she doesn't think you have indeed gone full asshole.

First thing's first: The biggest cup of coffee you can find.

_{Two days later. 10pm.}

The explanations don't mean anything to you, other than that they feel ... right? Which makes you feel insane. Well, at least you're in good company if you actually are insane. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest seemed like a real party at times. The pain is still there, not even a little bit dulled with time, but it's easier for you to handle because you understand it now ... kind of. You catch yourself calling people by the wrong name, because you are someone else. Because to you, they are someone else, too.

None of it makes sense, but you've been told it helps to write things down, for when your consciousness ... goes away.

"You're goddamn insane." You say as you crumple up maybe the fifteenth note paper and toss it toward the trash can. It goes right in. One of you is exceptionally good at aim. Both, actually.

Finally, you decide to make it quick, because there's no way the other guy will believe it anyway.

Your name is Matt Murdock. Don't try to make sense of it. See you around. Totally insane, but it's something.