Prologue

The stale, stuffy air hugged him like and old friend as he entered the building. He closed his eyes just for a moment and drank everything in. The scent of the old, dusty bricks, the faint chemical waft of the rough, peeled off paint covering the walls, the stuffy air that smelled of hundreds of people that had passed here in the last few years. Everything about this hallway, about this building reminded him of home. For some time, not so long ago, this had been home to him.

The creaking wooden stairs with their bumpy surface and the yellowed, worn out woolen carpet that had outlived generations of boots carrying the dirt and the soot from the city inside. He knew everything like the back of his hand. Nothing had changed since I first stepped through that door, his best friend by his side.

Melancholy slowly spread all through his body. Foggy... his best friend... not anymore as it seemed.

Everything felt so unreal in this moment. As if Foggy was just about to come down the stairs, heading out for lunch break to get some coffee. As if Karen was just sitting upstairs, her nose buried in files, forgetting the whole world around her.

But the truth was undeniable. It was over. Nelson and Murdock was over. Everything they had belonged to the past. No more laughter about one of Foggy's comical remarks, no more fervid conversations about a case. No more clients that left no money but food. It was over, and it was his fault. He had ruined it all. With his pride and his lies. All of what Foggy and he had built. They had wanted to help people, to represent the good in this world, to help making Hell's Kitchen a better place. To save their city. But also to save themselves.

But it had failed. They had failed. Now there was no more hope for the hopeless. No place they could turn to. And that was something, that even the Devil of Hell's Kitchen couldn't give them.

Standing there and taking in the old, damp hallway felt like watching an old, long forgotten, sepia-toned photograph. A debris from happier times, when the world was still turning, when there was a light at the end of a tunnel.

He almost could hear the echoes of Foggy's laughter, of Karen's voice, his own, back in their halcyon days.

But they were quiet and far away.

Without Nelson and Murdock, without his friends the colors of the photograph would soon start to fade just leaving a faint memory.

Suddenly Matt shook his head pulling himself out of this rapid torrent of dark thoughts. He wasn't here to grief. He was here to make things right again. To apologize, to ask for a second chance.

Not to say goodbye. He was here to become a better man, to make amends for all his sins, to save what was left of the sinking ship.

As he slowly started to mount the stairs he took a deep breath. The brown paper bag squeezed under his arm got heavier with every step he took. In this bag was his whole existence, his whole life. He knew now that Matt Murdock couldn't live without Daredevil. Daredevil had become more than a mask, more than a symbol. Somewhere on the way, Matt Murdock had gotten less and less important.

With heavy steps he forced himself to walk down the corridor, down to the door of the Nelson & Murdock office. After one last trace of reluctance Matt finally scraped all his courage together and laid his hand on the wobbly brass doorknob. But before opening the door he explored the room ahead with all of his senses.

Foggy's stuff was mostly packed in boxes, ready to be collected, most of Matt's stuff was already gone, only on Karen's desk still lay a pile of documents, presumable from her new job at the Bulletin. Karen herself stood next to the desk. Matt could hear her heart beating steadily. He could smell her hair, her perfume, the washing powder on her clothes. He loved her scent. Nothing else in the world smelled so good.

He could sense that she was nervous. She constantly fiddled with her hair and shifted her weight. Her hands were slightly trembling, she didn't know where to put them.

She startled when he opened the door and stiffened abruptly.

He pretended not to notice and closed the door behind him. His head turned into her direction as he stood still for a moment. With the paper bag under his arm and the folded cane in the hand he felt his own free hand trembling. He clenched his fist. She wasn't supposed notice his nervousness. He wanted to look strong and confident.

"Thanks for meeting me." His voice was calm and husky. He took the bag from under his arm and dropped the cane with a loud thud on the chair that he knew was next to him.

Karen straightened her skirt and took some tiny, unsteady steps in his direction. Her uncertainty became greater every second. But she had her emotions under control. "What am I doing here, Matt?" Her voice cut through his heart and his soul like a stone-cold blade. It conveyed so many feelings. Frustration, anger, disappointment. But he also thought to hear a tiny spark of hope.

Finally he went towards her and opened the ordinary paper bag. "I uh..." He hesitated but picked up courage again quickly. "I have something..." But before he could pull the mask put of the bag she interrupted him. "No, I don't want it!", she said with strength in her voice. But Matt didn't let go. He couldn't let go. "I have something," he continued unimpaired. "that I need you to see." He swallowed hard, waiting for her reaction. Karen sighed and looked the other way with resentment written all over her face. It almost seemed like she didn't care at all, but he knew, or at least hoped that she did. Slowly he pulled the red mask out, the cool surface of the carbon fibers felt hot, the mask was burning with the truth.

Karen was surprised, but not as surprised as she was supposed to be. Her heart rate had gotten a tiny bit faster and her head had gotten warm, but no exclamation, no gasp, nothing. His excuses about the constant injuries had raised suspicion in her. He waited for her to react, but after a while, it became clear that he needed to say it. She needed to hear it. And he needed to say it. He sighed heavily. "I'm Daredevil." The words didn't come easily. But when they were out, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulder.

But she was still staring at him, her breath speeding up, but she remained silent.

He wanted to explain and to apologize, but he felt that this wasn't the right time. She probably didn't want to hear it right now.

So he just kept standing there, helplessly the mask in his hands, looking at her with his blind eyes covered with his sunglasses, trying to produce some kind of an encouraging smile, which wasn't very successful.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, she moved. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist around the fabric of her skirt. "Thank you for telling me." she said. And without any further word she slowly walked past him and out of the room, leaving Matt behind in a tornado of his own feelings.