He tensed his jaw and looked down. It was all he could do… grind his teeth together to keep from screaming out. Keep his eyes locked on the floor to avoid Karen's broken stare. Rub his hands on his trousers so he had something to do. Anything.
To keep himself as far from the situation as possible. So he could, even if for a single moment, distance himself from Matt's funeral.
Foggy Nelson knew this would happen eventually. He'd told Murdock the same. If you spend enough time playing the devil, hell's gonna catch up eventually. But sitting here in a pew, in a church far too empty for someone like Matthew felt...wrong. Father Lantom's words were just a background song to the incisive arguing in his head. Voices analysing the situation and showing him each way it could've turned out. Showing Foggy all the ways in which he had failed his friend. If he hadn't been so selfish he could have helped. If he put his ego aside they could have worked together. If he believed in their small but hopeful little firm like Karen had then Matthew wouldn't have been forced into his nighttime activities. If only If only If only.
Matt Murdock would still be alive. But he wasn't and there was nothing he could do about it now.
A flicker brought his attention and he pulled himself out of his thoughts, with a deep and sharp inhale. The motion's slow, each movement his muscles groan in protest trying to drag him back to himself, and to stay away from reality as long as possible. But it's a damn shame he's already looked up to the dripping candle wax and before he can do anything about it he's made eye contact with someone on the pew to the right. A handful of people sit on the right aisle, disperse, non sitting directly next to each other. They don't have to say it but it's clear they don't want to be there. But who could blame them. Who could blame any of them.
Jessica stares back at him with a glazed look on her eyes. Deep shades of purple and brown hollow her eyes, making it obvious she hasn't slept well, if at all. How well did she know him? Did she know how much he had done? Not only as Daredevil but as Matthew? As someone who sacrificed everything he had, including his life only to help people? What goddamn right did she even have to be here? Any of them for that matter, They only knew him for a week, and that week cost his best friend his life. He clutched his fist and felt his nails carve out shapes on his palms. The bone crawling to the surface of his skin, itching to hit something, but before he could respond Jessica looked back down with her emotionless eyes parting from his, and just like that he opened his fists, not knowing what to do anymore. Being angry felt too tiring suddenly.
Anger wouldn't help him heal. Sadness couldn't help him heal. And he suddenly realized nothing could, at least for the moment. The church felt as empty as he did, with the thick stone blocks separating him from the outside world. The cool humid air inside the church heard only muffled sounds from the people in it. Himself..Karen… and the only other people who knew who Matt really was sat on the other side of the church, not feeling nearly valid enough to sit with them.
They're right. They shouldn't because they lost a Defender, just another hero in this fucked up city.
And as Foggy sat there watching the melting wax drip painstakingly slow, and hearing Karen's ragged breathing, he realized that he lost his brother, and no matter who he blamed the simple fact was that somewhere at the bottom of Midland Circle was Matthew's body. And all the people he helped and touched and saved wouldn't know it. That in the end only a full pew worth's people would mourn for him.
So here he sat, and all Foggy Nelson could do as Father Lantom closed his bible and ended his sermon, along with the memorial, was nothing.