When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
-"Gravedigger" by Dave Matthews
If there were any justice in the world, any justice whatsoever, Matt Murdock would get a hero's funeral.
Instead, when he was laid in the ground, only a smattering of people stood around the yawning pit in the ground. Peter Parker stood next to Foggy Nelson, MJ at his side. Luke Cage was on the opposite side of the grave, Jessica Jones huddled against his side and Danny Rand standing straight and tall next to her.
It was fitting that it was raining. Danny imagined that the world was giving Matt one last chance to see before the first clump of moist dirt was thumped onto the top of the simple coffin.
None of them are crying.
It wasn't like Matt hadn't snapped before. It wasn't as though he hadn't clawed his way back from whatever his episodes were. It wasn't as though they didn't see it coming. There was only so many beatings a man could take, after all.
He'd come through to the other side every time. Every time. Maybe he was a little more reckless, maybe the grins that tore at the edges of his mouth were a little more wild. But he was Daredevil, and he always came through in the end.
Between getting the call and the interment, Foggy wondered if maybe, maybe it hadn't been an accident. If Matt had just not cared enough to step out of the way of the bullet. He knew what it looked like when Matt was losing his grip, and he wondered if maybe this time he had just lost a little too much.
By the time he threw his clump of mud on the coffin, he had decided that Matt wouldn't do that to him.
During the day, he could believe it. Matt was the hotshot lawyer, the best friend anyone could ever have, the glue holding Foggy's world together. Foggy was sure Matt knew that.
But on those rare late nights when he couldn't sleep, he would wonder.
Peter didn't wonder.
Peter knew an instant too late that this time, Matt's fall was too deep. The smile ripping across his face was too rancid. His movements as he backflipped into battle were too sharp. Peter would never forgive himself for not seeing it before.
Peter knew Matt had time to react to his shout of warning. He knew Matt heard him. And he knew that Matt knew exactly what he was doing.
It was a closed casket funeral.
If there were any justice in the world, any justice whatsoever, Matt Murdock's grave would never be free of flowers.
Instead, on the anniversary of his death, only a handful of people made their way to the cemetery, fewer ever year. Foggy Nelson moved away. Peter Parker came alone every year, to whisper that he was sorry. Some years, Luke Cage would show up, sometimes with Jessica Jones and Danny Rand in tow, sometimes alone.
Matt would have thought that it was fitting that he passed out of remembrance with little fanfare. The world had moved on.
Everyone knew that even heroes die.