Chapter Text
Since Midland circle they had grown closer in a weary, begrudging way.
Jessica had outright refused to meet with them after Matt’s death. They were not going to become a team, she worked solo, that’s the way it had always been she wasn’t about to change now.
But Danny and Luke had sent the text and met up anyway. They did nothing more than sit together on the edge of a rooftop nursing beers against their chests. A case of beer by their side. They had been silent except for the choked sighs of Danny as he had cried quietly. Both staring out into Hell’s Kitchen, the city he had loved. Luke had quietly handed over a tissue so wrapped in grief he felt numb.
They had sat until well after sunset, just staring. Then they had heard the heavy footfalls and the smell of whiskey and Jessica had crashed in between them, two bottles of whiskey in hand. Not a single thing was said, they didn’t ask her why she was drunk, or why her eyes were red. They were simply silent.
The silence had stretched between as they stared back out into the city lights, it had been broken by the broken sob of Danny as he cried out into the night. That had broken their resolve.
Jessica in an act so unlike her that they hadn’t mentioned it since she had turned Danny into her arms to hug him as he cried. He clung to her as he cried his fists gripping her shirt with his iron grip unwilling to let go.
He had gasped out his name, his voice thick with emotion, the act causing him to sob harder as he began to hiccup. Jessica had shushed him and simply held him closer. Her own voice wavering, threatening to give out on her. Her shirt had been soaked with tears as he sobbed into her, and in turn his curly golden hair became wet with her silent tears.
Luke’s chest heaved with repressed sobs as he continued to keep vigil across the city. Eventually hot tears had landed on the back of his hands and he watched them fall, slowly at first and then quickly, his breath coming out in strangled sobs.
Jessica had looked up over her shoulder from her position holding Danny. Her check had been pressed to his hair and had begun to turn red, her face puffy and her eyelashes clumped together under the weight of her tears. They had stared at each other silently before Luke had shifted himself to hold both of them in his arms.
They had held onto one another an anchor in a hopeless fever dream. Their grief tying even the most unlikely of heroes as friends.
. o O o . . o O o . . o O o . . o O o .
Jessica was unsure whether she should even be at the funeral. She had only known Matt Murdock for a week. One stupid week where her life had gone from normal —well as normal as it could get for an alcoholic trauma survivor who spent her nights stoping slow moving cars and threatening people with her laser eyes. Now there was evil mind control resurrection, an omnipotent evil organisation and magic fisting. Matt Murdock’s creepy freak senses seemed tame in comparison.
It rained on the day of Mathew Murdock’s funeral. If Jessica was a poet she might say that even the sky was crying for the loss of Matt Murdock, instead she cursed the rain as she took the subway to the service.
A small traitorous part of Jessica, a part that had no voice, just a wiggly feeling in her chest, didn’t think he was dead. After Kilgrave she refused to rule death without a body, lesser men had survived and they weren’t nearly as stubborn as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.
‘But then Kilgrave didn’t have a building collapse on top of him,’ a traitorous voice whispered.
So there she stood, awkwardly standing at the back of funeral service, inside a church no less, a flask in hand. She had stood in the shadows before the service. She had watched as Franklin Nelson and Karen Page shook hands and thanked the attendees. There were a lot of people paying respects considering that he had made it seem as if he hadn’t had a lot of friends. There were easily over 100 people moving to pay their respects to Mathew Murdock.
Jessica had been about to bail when Luke and Claire had arrived. Luke, feeling equally as out of place in the procession, had slunk to her side and gruffly accepted her outstretched flask. Claire, on the other hand, had floated through the procession. Kissing cheeks and shaking hands, hugging and nodding sympathetically. It struck Jessica then that Claire had known Matt longer than they had.
“How can she do that?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy, from crying alcohol or both she didn’t know. “How can she just…” her voice faded out with a dry crackle. Claire steadily made her way through the church, touching, holding and giving out words of comfort effortlessly.
“I don’t know.” Luke didn’t sound much better than her. In a selfish way she was glad he sounded just as broken up. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who regretted not knowing Matt sooner.
Claire finally made her way to Karen’s and Franklin’s —Foggy Matt had said— side. Karen looked as if a good gust of wind would make her crumble. She was deathly pale, her pality stark against her black dress. Foggy didn’t look much better. They both looked like the smallest thing would break their carefully built up certainty. Claire hugged them both and they held each other longer than what Jessica assumed was normal, not that she was familiar with affection, certainly not the casual kind. The kind that you gave to help someone else, a token of care simply because you wanted to, was alien to her.
Danny had arrived shortly after his hair frizzy and damp as he brushed stray water droplets from his shoulders, Colleen had not been at his side. He saw them hiding in the corner and quickly joined them. He walked stiffly, his jaw clenched and Jessica noticed he was pointedly not looking around. Much like Luke he accepted Jessica’s flask with only a small flicker of hesitation. And so the trio awkwardly stood.
Colleen was patrolling for them he murmured after the charged silence got the better of him. They watched as more people trickled in as Danny nervously continued to check his watch. Upwards of 150 people were now awaiting the start of the service. Danny quietly counted down the minutes to the start, when to all their dismay, Karen and Foggy had decided to officially greet them.
They watched as Karen, Foggy and Claire waded their way through the people to their corner. Jessica thought she might throw up, Danny didn’t look much better.
“Thank you for coming,” Karen sounded as bad as she looked, but she looked them all in the eye as she shook their hands, and her grip was strong, if you ignored how tears had carved a path down her cheeks and she didn’t look like she hadn’t slept in weeks.
Danny hadn’t been able to utter a word, but his face had scrunched up in a way that Jessica had realised menat he was holding in his sobs. Jessica hadn’t been able to meet their eyes. Luke, eloquent Luke had spoken, his gruff voice scratchy but sincere.
“We are sorry for your loss.” Foggy had shaken his hand extra firmly and nodded with all the gravity of a man in mourning. Jessica hadn’t been able to stop herself.
“I’m not,” she had blurted out. They had turned to look at her and Jess felt herself grow hot in embarrassment and anger. She fiddled with the lid of her flask anxiously.
“We shouldn’t have to be doing this, he should have made it out.” She ground out stubbornly, her eyes hot with unshed tears, she had wiped them away angrily refusing to look anyone in the eye. “He should be here alive, not...”
“Jessica,” Claire had whispered her voice hoarse but full of care and understanding as she wrapped her warm hands around Jessica’s cold and clammy ones. Her stupid flask sitting awkwardly between. Jessica just fiercely concentrated on not shedding her tears, her face scowling ferociously as she tried.
“I know. But he isn’t.” Foggy had whispered his voice, so, so, broken. Before he had suddenly turned and walked away. Shocked Jessica had watched him go, seeing as his shoulder caved in and she didn’t need super hearing to know that he was sobbing.
Karen and Claire had talked quietly with Luke in hushed voices but neither Danny or Jess listened. Danny’s chest and lips were twitching with repressed sobs and Jessica had been shocked into numbness as she sipped from her almost empty bourbon. But then Claire and Karen had left and people were sitting. And the priest was talking but Jessica didn’t hear them anymore.
Close friends sat at the front for the service, friends and family. They were not that despite what Claire and Karen had insisted. They were outsiders, hadn’t even known him for a week, and were foolish enough to think they had a connection with an empty coffin. Danny stiffly grabbed Jessica’s hand, and she didn’t have the heart to shake him off.
At some stage, Luke carefully pried, a now empty flask, out of her numb fingers and tucked it into her pocket. Before grabbing her other hand
So there they stood, hand in hand, the three of them mourning a man they hadn’t even known for a full week. Linked by each other and the haunting sound of his voice.
“I’m right behind you…”