It was a very peaceful day; one Foggy would've loved. As Matt listened to the priest's sermon, his mind wandered back to happier days. He supposed they were what old timers would call "the good ol' days." The feeling he got when he and Foggy first opened their door all those years ago. He thought about his college days, back to when his life was simpler, when he'd first met Foggy. His thoughts were interrupted with the scent of someone very familiar.
Wilson Fisk had strolled onto the grounds. He wasn't near, but Matt knew he close enough to see him. His heartbeat was calm and steady, not showing any signs of stress. Murdock could feel his own blood rising as the anger welled up inside him.
His head turned to face the direction Fisk was standing when another hand touched his.
It was Natasha, who hadn't left Matt's side since everything had happened. Matt turned back to face the funeral. Many people had shown up, more than Matt would've expected.
Afterwards the crowd dispersed, including the intruding Fisk, quickly. Foggy's mother was having a small gathering back at her house, but Matt had no interest in going. He stood there, a small breeze blowing through his hair, staring down at the coffin he couldn't see.
Natasha remained, and Matt picked up the pulse and scent of one other, Ben Urich. He could feel both of them staring at him, wondering what exactly he would do.
Slowly he walked over to the wooden box. Running his hand over it, he could feel the ridges in the seemingly smoothe oak. He allowed the varnish to bombard his sense of smell. His best friend in the world, a man he could proudly say he loved with all his heart, a man who didn't have an evil bone in his body, had been reduced to this.
"I miss you already," Matt said. "You, Karen, Elektra, my father. Everyone I've ever truly loved has been taken away from me. You warned me about the consequences of this life, but I never listened. I'm sorry. I know that doesn't help now, but I hope you can forgive me, because I know I'll never forgive myself.
"I keep thinking, if only things were different. If only I hadn't saved that old man from that truck. None of this would've happened. But you know what gets to me? I've never seen your face. I've never seen you smile, I've never seen you laugh, and I've never seen you cry. You're my best friend Foggy. The things you've done for me, the way you've helped me, it's something I'll never forget. Something that can't be replaced. I'm so sorry that I brought this upon you. But most of all, I'm sorry that I didn't say these things to you when you were alive. I love you, know that. I'm sorry, and I love you. Rest in piece old friend."
With that Matt walked towards his two onlookers.
"Ben," Matt nodded.
"I'm not sure what to say Matt," Ben stuttered.
"There's nothing to say. There's nothing left to do, except bring him down."
"I've been trying to call you, but you're never answer. I've been worried sick you might do something-"
"To jeopardize the case," Matt finished. "Never; not this one. This is strictly by the book. We're taking Fisk down by the law, and I'm going to personally make sure nothing stands in the way."
"He's gotten out of it before, Matt, what happens if he wins?"
"Then," Matt began, "then I kill him." He turned and walked away, leaving his friends speechless.
Both Natasha and Ben looked at each other curiously, neither knowing what to say. After a few moments a light rain began to fall. Finally Ben spoke.
"What did he mean by 'personally'?" He asked.
# # # # #
The man known only as Bullseye sat inside a cell in a high security prison. He had been here for only two days, and already counted six hundred ways he could've escaped, but that wasn't part of the plan. No, he just had to sit there, waiting for his day to come, waiting to get in that courtroom. The madman smiled with anticipation.
Matt stood atop one of Hell's Kitchen's many churches, listening to the city move. He supposed any passers by might find this humorous, but there was little room left for that in Matt's life now.
"Why do people think they can sneak up on me?" Matt asked in the darkness.
"Ah, it was worth a shot," Answered a voice. Stepping out of the shadows was a man clad in blue and red spandex, a spider emblem on his chest.
"Do you want anything in particular Peter, or are you just here to offer your condolences?"
"Actually, I thought you could use someone to talk to," Peter answered.
"What's to talk about, I lost my best friend because I choose to gallivant around town dressed in spandex, like some kind of hero. Some hero, I couldn't save Foggy, I couldn't save Karen...."
"You are a hero Matt, think of all the good you've done for this town. Think of the lives you've saved."
"That doesn't bring back Foggy does it?"
"No it doesn't, and it never will. I could stand here all day telling you that the only way to feel better is to keep being a hero, but I'd be lying. The pain never goes away Matt. Never. The love of my life died in my arms years ago, and my heart still aches to this day. I wouldn't give up my time with Mary Jane for anything, but it doesn't take away the pain of losing Gwen. It never will. I know how depressing that sounds, believe me, and I wish it got better, but it doesn't."
"I guess we're more alike than I ever thought Peter. Two boys given gifts they never asked for, using them for the greater good only to have it constantly thrown in our faces. The people we love are constantly hurt by our good deeds. Why do we continue to do this?"
Peter was silent for a second. His mind thought back to the day his Uncle Ben was killed. He had never told Matt about that. Other than MJ and himself, there probably wasn't anyone else who knew. "We all have our reasons," he answered. "You just have to figure out what yours is."
"That's just it, I'm not sure anymore. I can't even remember why I started doing this, so why do I continue?"
"Because you want to help people. And in the end, helping them makes you feel better about all the things you've done wrong in your life. It's selfish."
There was silence for a minute as both men stared into the night. Matt was the first to speak again.
"I got a phone call today," he laughed. It was the first time he'd even smiled in days. God it felt good.
# # # # #
Matt made it in just after sunrise. He and Peter had sat atop the church for a good part of the night, reminiscing about some of the good times they'd had. Somehow Peter could always make him laugh, and Matt really needed it.
Inside, Matt showered and began cooking his breakfast. He was going to have a long day, and considering his tremendous lack of sleep, he would definitely need to eat. After eating Matt made a short phone call.
"District Attorney's office," came the voice on the other line.
"Mr. Aragorn please. This is Matt Murdock."
"Please hold Mr. Murdock, I'll see if he's in."
After a few minutes another voice came on the line. "Matt, good morning!" The man said excitedly. "I hope you're calling me to give me good news."
"Yes, I am, I've decided to accept the offer."
"Glad to hear you changed your mind, but may I ask why?"
"An old friend talked me into it. He said I could probably do a lot of good as the Assistant District Attorney, and I think he's right," Matt answered.
Wilson Fisk had strolled onto the grounds. He wasn't near, but Matt knew he close enough to see him. His heartbeat was calm and steady, not showing any signs of stress. Murdock could feel his own blood rising as the anger welled up inside him.
His head turned to face the direction Fisk was standing when another hand touched his.
It was Natasha, who hadn't left Matt's side since everything had happened. Matt turned back to face the funeral. Many people had shown up, more than Matt would've expected.
Afterwards the crowd dispersed, including the intruding Fisk, quickly. Foggy's mother was having a small gathering back at her house, but Matt had no interest in going. He stood there, a small breeze blowing through his hair, staring down at the coffin he couldn't see.
Natasha remained, and Matt picked up the pulse and scent of one other, Ben Urich. He could feel both of them staring at him, wondering what exactly he would do.
Slowly he walked over to the wooden box. Running his hand over it, he could feel the ridges in the seemingly smoothe oak. He allowed the varnish to bombard his sense of smell. His best friend in the world, a man he could proudly say he loved with all his heart, a man who didn't have an evil bone in his body, had been reduced to this.
"I miss you already," Matt said. "You, Karen, Elektra, my father. Everyone I've ever truly loved has been taken away from me. You warned me about the consequences of this life, but I never listened. I'm sorry. I know that doesn't help now, but I hope you can forgive me, because I know I'll never forgive myself.
"I keep thinking, if only things were different. If only I hadn't saved that old man from that truck. None of this would've happened. But you know what gets to me? I've never seen your face. I've never seen you smile, I've never seen you laugh, and I've never seen you cry. You're my best friend Foggy. The things you've done for me, the way you've helped me, it's something I'll never forget. Something that can't be replaced. I'm so sorry that I brought this upon you. But most of all, I'm sorry that I didn't say these things to you when you were alive. I love you, know that. I'm sorry, and I love you. Rest in piece old friend."
With that Matt walked towards his two onlookers.
"Ben," Matt nodded.
"I'm not sure what to say Matt," Ben stuttered.
"There's nothing to say. There's nothing left to do, except bring him down."
"I've been trying to call you, but you're never answer. I've been worried sick you might do something-"
"To jeopardize the case," Matt finished. "Never; not this one. This is strictly by the book. We're taking Fisk down by the law, and I'm going to personally make sure nothing stands in the way."
"He's gotten out of it before, Matt, what happens if he wins?"
"Then," Matt began, "then I kill him." He turned and walked away, leaving his friends speechless.
Both Natasha and Ben looked at each other curiously, neither knowing what to say. After a few moments a light rain began to fall. Finally Ben spoke.
"What did he mean by 'personally'?" He asked.
# # # # #
The man known only as Bullseye sat inside a cell in a high security prison. He had been here for only two days, and already counted six hundred ways he could've escaped, but that wasn't part of the plan. No, he just had to sit there, waiting for his day to come, waiting to get in that courtroom. The madman smiled with anticipation.
Matt stood atop one of Hell's Kitchen's many churches, listening to the city move. He supposed any passers by might find this humorous, but there was little room left for that in Matt's life now.
"Why do people think they can sneak up on me?" Matt asked in the darkness.
"Ah, it was worth a shot," Answered a voice. Stepping out of the shadows was a man clad in blue and red spandex, a spider emblem on his chest.
"Do you want anything in particular Peter, or are you just here to offer your condolences?"
"Actually, I thought you could use someone to talk to," Peter answered.
"What's to talk about, I lost my best friend because I choose to gallivant around town dressed in spandex, like some kind of hero. Some hero, I couldn't save Foggy, I couldn't save Karen...."
"You are a hero Matt, think of all the good you've done for this town. Think of the lives you've saved."
"That doesn't bring back Foggy does it?"
"No it doesn't, and it never will. I could stand here all day telling you that the only way to feel better is to keep being a hero, but I'd be lying. The pain never goes away Matt. Never. The love of my life died in my arms years ago, and my heart still aches to this day. I wouldn't give up my time with Mary Jane for anything, but it doesn't take away the pain of losing Gwen. It never will. I know how depressing that sounds, believe me, and I wish it got better, but it doesn't."
"I guess we're more alike than I ever thought Peter. Two boys given gifts they never asked for, using them for the greater good only to have it constantly thrown in our faces. The people we love are constantly hurt by our good deeds. Why do we continue to do this?"
Peter was silent for a second. His mind thought back to the day his Uncle Ben was killed. He had never told Matt about that. Other than MJ and himself, there probably wasn't anyone else who knew. "We all have our reasons," he answered. "You just have to figure out what yours is."
"That's just it, I'm not sure anymore. I can't even remember why I started doing this, so why do I continue?"
"Because you want to help people. And in the end, helping them makes you feel better about all the things you've done wrong in your life. It's selfish."
There was silence for a minute as both men stared into the night. Matt was the first to speak again.
"I got a phone call today," he laughed. It was the first time he'd even smiled in days. God it felt good.
# # # # #
Matt made it in just after sunrise. He and Peter had sat atop the church for a good part of the night, reminiscing about some of the good times they'd had. Somehow Peter could always make him laugh, and Matt really needed it.
Inside, Matt showered and began cooking his breakfast. He was going to have a long day, and considering his tremendous lack of sleep, he would definitely need to eat. After eating Matt made a short phone call.
"District Attorney's office," came the voice on the other line.
"Mr. Aragorn please. This is Matt Murdock."
"Please hold Mr. Murdock, I'll see if he's in."
After a few minutes another voice came on the line. "Matt, good morning!" The man said excitedly. "I hope you're calling me to give me good news."
"Yes, I am, I've decided to accept the offer."
"Glad to hear you changed your mind, but may I ask why?"
"An old friend talked me into it. He said I could probably do a lot of good as the Assistant District Attorney, and I think he's right," Matt answered.