Authors Note: Sorry this isn't a very long chapter, but I wanted to let you guys know that I haven't given up on the story. Enjoy! :)
Previously:
"Foggy, it was never your fault," he choked out. "It's always been mine. It's me. I couldn't- I, I needed- I'm not- I-" Matt felt the pressure inside him grow. There was no longer room for thought, for sense. He couldn't make any sense. Sense of his words, sense of himself. He needed to get out. Matt stumbled stiffly towards the door. He couldn't concentrate on anything but the pain in his throat and behind his eyes. He groped the door's surface awkwardly before finding the knob and throwing himself through the exit.
Everything was vibrating. It was too loud, too bright, and there was an inescapable burn clawing its way up his throat. The heat rolled through him in waves as his heart rate sped up. The sounds of his panicked breathing echoed in the stairwell.
Matt moved solely on experience. He was disoriented, truly blind. He fell down the stairs, tripping over his own foot. Everything swirled around him. He lay, strewn across the bottom few steps, aching from bruises but not really caring. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, stinging yesterday's cuts. It was all over. Matt Murdock no longer existed. He was only Daredevil now. He couldn't be Matt without Foggy. It was always Matt and Foggy.
"Pathetic, absolutely pathetic," Sting sighed disdainfully.
Some time later, it was impossible to tell whether it was hours or only minutes, Matt heard a tentative voice at the top of the stairwell.
"Matt? Matt, are you okay?" It sounded so kind, Matt didn't think he could take it. He didn't think he could take it if he let himself hope. Because if he hoped and he was wrong, then his entire world would burn down around him. Again. And he knew that he would let it burn him away, too. So he picked himself up from the cold floor, impassively wiped the wetness from his face, and walked away without a reply. If there was a voice calling after him, Matt didn't hear it.