Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved a wreck like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
t'was blind, but now I see…
He feels lost without her.
Daredevil still patrols the city, his faith restored in his purpose. But Matt Murdock, the blind lawyer of Hell's Kitchen, has lost his reason for truly living, as opposed to simply surviving.
Now that she's gone…
It was easier before Ben Urich gave him the news: Elektra's body had never been found.
At that moment, Matt lost what little confidence he'd had left. She had died in his arms – with his own special brand of synethesia, he'd felt/heard/seen her heart stop – but without a chance to truly say goodbye to her…
He still hoped.
If he'd had a chance to truly grieve, maybe he wouldn't feel so conflicted. But despite dealing out vigilante justice on the criminal underworld at night, and defending the truly innocent by day…he goes through it all by rote.
Whenever he feels especially lost, Matt goes up on the roof and tries to recapture the feeling of showing her the view for the first – the only – time. He hasn't been truly innocent since the day he found out his father's lies and lost his sight, but then, with her…for a moment…he'd felt cleansed of all his sins by her rain-sweet kisses.
And her love.
He'd never imagined things could go this wrong – that it would be (indirectly) his fault her father died. That his urge to protect – even if he had to kill to do it – would be perverted by a mercenary named Bull's Eye.
He never would have asked for her forgiveness – even if he'd thought he deserved it. He never asked Father Everett for forgiveness – he wasn't sure he'd get it.
But Elektra had forgiven him, without a thought, once she unmasked him. Because she could hate Dare Devil for believing he had killed her father…but she loved Matt, and believed him when he said he hadn't.
With her he thought he'd found a reason to live Matt's life instead of just Dare Devil's other identity. They'd had a precious few days together, and he'd entertained more than one fantasy of them living their lives together. Even in that alleyway, with his blood seeping from the wound she'd given him (in) above his heart, he'd had a whimsical thought – most probably brought about by shock and blood loss – that maybe Dare Devil could use a partner. Devilica, maybe? Lilith?
But even if he'd found forgiveness in her, once he'd lost her, his faith went with her. He is the man without fear – only because the only thing he ever feared was losing the people he loves. And that fear has come to pass.
But he still hopes. Not for a miracle, just…a reason to go on.
He's on the roof right now, underneath the pipe he found (her gift to him) the necklace on. He wears it always, never takes it off, and sometimes, when he needs (her) a little faith, he'll trace the Braille lettering on its pewter face and remember her.
He's never been up here when it rains, for the same reason he hadn't bought that bottle of rose oil in that shop the other day. For the same reason her sais hang in a clear glass case on his wall, not on his belt as another weapon. He couldn't even bring himself to wipe his (her) blood off of them. Having such a clear reminder of her so close – it would bring that night into sharp focus, and despite his inability to let go of her, it hurts too much to remember her that clearly.
Especially tonight… It's been a year, and he still can't let go of her – he isn't even certain that he should try – and for the past week he's been feeling…tense. Restless. Longing… He isn't sure what, exactly, to call this feeling, but there's a strange feel to the air, as if the very universe is anticipating…something.
He wants the anticipation to either disperse or finish killing him. He wants to be alone with his (grief) memories.
The scent of ozone reaches him, and for a moment he's back there with her, telling her that it's going to start raining in a minute. He takes his glasses off and tucks them in his shirt pocket, raising his sightless eyes to the sky. As the first warm raindrop falls on his face, he closes his eyes and breathes deep, remembering. Letting the rain wash away his tears.
His extra sensory sense kicks in, and for a moment, he's convinced it's just a flashback, a stronger memory than most, evoked by the rain and his reminiscences of their one night together. But the scent of rose oil is strong in the air, far too intense to just be his imagination…
The rain is falling and he can see/hear/feel her, and she's smiling at him – he must have the goofiest awestruck expression on his face – and then she whispers, "I found you," and her kisses are just as sweet as he remembers.
He isn't lost anymore.
She's found him.