Sidefic/coda to Damned If I Do, set after the main storyline, after 'One Bright Moment'.
*Looks at legal stuff, shrugs. Oh, hey, let's add about 3,000 words of fluff and angst!* Seriously, I have two experiences from court (in Czechia, where is nothing like a jury etc), so if it's all nonsense, I am really sorry. My only knowledge comes from occasional tv series/films, so… (Claire's distant voice: It's not as easy as it looks in the movies!)
Uhm…the beginning might be kinda gross…sorry.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Of Guilty Saints and Innocent Sinners
"The jury finds Officer Daniel Collins – not guilty!"
Vera's heartbeat stopped. That wasn't possible. How could they decide he was innocent? He kidnapped her, he tortured her, he enjoyed it and he was found not guilty? Her head spun as she stood up from the settle, walking down the alley in the courtroom. She saw the policeman, who brought Collins to the room in handcuffs, liberating him. Collins smiled at her wryly, arrogance shining from his eyes. It made her feel nauseous.
He was free.
Vera got out, breathing in the not-so-fresh air of New York City. When a hand appeared on her shoulder, she covered it with hers. She knew it was Matt – she would recognize that touch anywhere.
"It wasn't your fault, you know," he said softly, stroking her arm reassuringly.
Well, why did it feel like it then? She was the only witness. She was the only one who could have messed up. And she did. Royally. She must have, because a dangerous criminal was cleared of all charges.
Loud bang and crack echoed in her ears. Vera snapped her head in that direction, only to see Matt's knees giving up and his limb body collapsing, before she could even slow down his fall.
"Matt?!" She quickly crouched to his unmoving figure lying flat on the pavement, face down. What the hell-
Then she noticed the blood. There was a huge growing stain of blood on the back of his head. As if he was-
"I don't really think he's gonna wake up," the voice she hated remarked casually.
Hand pressing to the wound (and darkness clouded her vision as she felt the crack in his skull, fragments of a bone shifting under her fingers), she looked at the attacker. He wore dubious expression, leaning onto a baseball bat, smudge of blood on its side.
"I mean it. It was a huge blow. He's dead. You know he is. And that's just the beginning, sweetheart." He winked at her and disappeared in the crowd.
Her shaking hand checked Matt's breathing, another checking his pulse. Despite her panic, she monitored it for full ten seconds like she had been them. There was nothing.
"Matt?" she whispered, tears appearing in her eyes as she rolled him over. She only met his hazy eyes with deadly glare.
"Ježiši Kriste."
Hand gripped her forearm firmly, strong enough to bruise – he moved, turning his head to her with determination. She gasped, hope fluttering in her heart.
He spoke up. "I was wrong."
Vera wanted to put a pressure on his wound carefully, reaching behind his head, but his other hand stopped her. She frowned at him.
"I was wrong," he repeated, sightless gaze burning into her eyes, irises covered in fog, "it was your fault."
She jolted awake, deafening scream on her lips. Picture of dead Matt Murdock swam in front of her eyes as she glared in the dark. She felt tears streaming down her face, her lungs fighting for air, feeling like she was drowning.
'I was wrong. It was your fault,' whispered the voice in her ears intrusively, repeating the words over and over again.
She had got him killed. She had failed. Collins was free and he had killed Matt.
Against her cold tears, she felt a light warm touch. She blinked furiously, the horror image slowly fading away.
"…Christ, Vera."
Gentle fingers wiping the consequences of her desperation. Soft voice.
"Vera, sweetheart, can you hear me?"
She squinted into the darkness, Matt's face appearing again. Equivalent of worry. He didn't look like that when he-
Touch on her cheek, hand tucking her sweat-soaked hair behind her ear.
He was here. Matt was right in front of her. He was with her, breathing, observing her with concern, no dead glare in his eyes. He was alive.
"M-M-Matt?" she choked out between her furious attempts to gain some oxygen, her hands trembling as she raised them, carefully framing his face with them. She could feel the warm radiating from his cheeks under her fingertips, he was real.
He gave her a small smile. "Yeah."
Just to make sure, she ran her fingers through his hair – there was no crack, no blood. She exhaled shakily. He was alive. Kneeling in front of her on her bed, where they had fallen asleep after he had come back from work – not even from patrol, skipping to stay with her the whole night. He wanted to be with her, because she was a wreck, bundle of nerves, unable to function in a normal way. She wanted him by her side as well.
He was alive.
Vera jumped him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, squeezing, knocking his breath out of him, burring her face in his chest. She could hear the frantic thump-thump, thump-thump as she did so and chuckled, delighted at the beautiful sound. She could hear his exhale too as he hugged her back. If her grip made his breathing difficult, he didn't mention it.
"It's okay. It's okay, Vera. Just a dream. It was just a dream," he whispered to her hair, his chest vibrating with the words and she would cry at the indication of life, listening to his voice forever, as long as it wouldn't say 'it was your fault'.
Matt let her soak his hoodie wet, gently pulled her into his lap, cradling lightly in periodical motion. The scenario was pretty much the same every night for the last few days – she would wake up freaked out by her nightmare and he would comfort her instead of buying himself at least few hours of sleep, so precious due to his other night activities.
The first days after she had received her notice to appear for Officer Collins's trial hadn't been that bad – she was nervous, sometimes zoning out, but it was alright. Lately, she had nightmares. It had started quite innocently – she had been sitting in the courtroom, watching his smug smile saying I'll win without any words coming out from his mouth. The dreams had been changing with the upcoming event though. Sometimes, they had led him in handcuffed, leaving with her instead; sometimes they had just let him go and he waved at her provocatively; other nights she had dreamt of his threats – he had been toying with his baseball bat as he had been leaving the courtroom, or he had simply yelled at her from the door about making her life a living hell.
But it had never, ever gone so far. It was the last night before the trial and she actually took sleeping pills, because despite the lack of quality sleep, she was restless.
"You wanna talk about it?" he asked her softly and she squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaving them in rivers now. She shook her head furiously, digging her nails into his back – he was here. Hand stroked her hair in return. "Okay."
He didn't say another word.
"He killed you," she breathed, voice breaking on the last word. Matt's body tensed for a short moment before placing a kiss on the top of her head.
"I'm still here. I wouldn't let him. And he's going to prison," he reassured her and she sobbed, letting out a small laugh.
It was always like this. Matt repeating her there was no way he would walk free. Vera scared to death by the idea of her messing up. Him convincing her that even if she would screw it up big time – which she definitely wouldn't – Collins would end up in jail. Then Matt told her she wouldn't go to jail under any circumstances and they would be done for the night, she curling up in his protective embrace, sometimes crying herself to sleep. Her live was fabulous.
"It was so real," she whined stubbornly, Matt's deadly glare still flickering in her mind from time to time.
"I know. I'm sorry, Vera, I was trying to wake you up-"
"Jesus Christ, Matt, it's not your fault."
He didn't react and she whined for a completely different reason. In his twisted world of catholic guilt, he assumed he was the one to blame, naturally – Collins had taken her trying to get to him in the first place and now there was the trial and she had nightmares and they were caught in a freaking vicious circle, because in his opinion, everything wrong in this world was caused by Matt Murdock.
"It's not. It's Collins's and Collins's only. Tell me it's not your fault," she demanded and pressed her ear against his heart, listening carefully.
He sighed. "It's not my fault," he repeated obediently and she hummed in agreement when she heard no jump. She finally relaxed, tears drying on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry I woke you up."
"Of course you are. Forget it." He readjusted his hug, lying her down on the bed again. "Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?"
Her lips twitched in light amusement. She pressed her back to his body, letting him wrap his arm around her waist safely. "You would?"
"Sure, if you want me to. What would you like to hear about?" he asked, sounding like he was actually pleased by the idea of talking her to sleep. She remembered the one time he had done it over the phone – it was the night before the benefit. It felt like decades ago, distant and almost funny memory – she would choose hundreds, thousands of snobs to face over Collins any day.
"Well, if you're narrating in Spanish again, I don't really care – I wouldn't know if you were saying the same story as the last time… what was it about anyway?"
She felt his smile in her hair. "I can retell you shortly."
"Please, do. Then you can recite me your shopping list in Spanish for all I care…"
"Well, it was a story about one beautiful girl-"
"That's awfully precise…"
"Don't interrupt. So this girl, she lived in a small village, surrounded by her loving family. Only few outside her family appreciated her talents – she fell in love with one of them. However, for some reason I can't recall, he let her go. So she decided to travel and explore the world. She went far, far away, settling down when meeting a great friend who served at one mansion – she started working there as well. One day a pilgrim appeared there – she welcomed him warmly, brightening up his day despite their encounter being too short. By the will of God, he got a chance to repay her when bandits tried to hurt her. Make no mistake, it was not an easy task, she fought back. Yet, she needed his help. She wouldn't recognize the man though – he hid his face from her. She thanked him in a way no one has before – and she brightened up his night as well."
Vera snapped her eyes open, realizing what kind of a story it was. She couldn't believe her ears. There were too many similarities for her to be wrong. She felt him smile again – her heartbeat and the hitch of her breath gave her revelation away.
"The girl, she wouldn't happen to be named-"
"Stop interrupting. Her name was Vera. Didn't I say?" he teased her, poorly contained laugh in his voice.
Vera fidgeted, freeing herself from his comfortable embrace, rolling over so she could face him. Sightless eyes observed her, sparks in them, gorgeous smile on his lips. God, she was so lucky to have him.
She cleared her throat, fighting the lump in it – this time, it wasn't because of her fear or her tears. She was touched, her heart growing, making her ribcage too small. "No. No, you forgot to mention that."
Matt shrugged casually. "My bad. Anyway…They met again and just like the first time, she made him laugh. By that time, he started slowly realizing how special the girl was. He didn't expect to find out how much though. Next time he saw her…"
Vera watched him, his dreamy eyes, seeking something in distance. She didn't care she would interrupt him again – she needed to say it. "I love you, Matt."
"Hey! You skipped most of the story! I would get there!" he complained, face wounded, disappointed that Vera ruined his point.
She chuckled, taking his face to her hands, kissing him fiercely. His hurt expression changed quickly, lips answering hers tenderly, fingers running lightly through her hair.
"You're such a dork, Matt. Seriously. And I love you for that. Thank you. For telling me the story… for being here tonight."
She didn't know what else to say. She felt like someone had stolen her ability to find the right words – she couldn't seem to express her gratitude and her love the way she wanted to or to make him understand what he meant for her.
She sighed, discontent with herself and buried her head under his chin. His arms pulled her closer and she kissed his clavicle lightly, mind wandering.
"Matt?" she whispered, making up her mind. He hummed as a sign of paying attention. "The pilgrim… the man from your story. Was there anything he wanted? Something… something the girl could do to make him truly happy?"
She felt his muscles tense for few moments – maybe he was startled by that question, maybe he didn't want to answer. Maybe there was nothing she was able to do for him and he didn't know how to tell her. Matt was making her happy in so many different ways. Maybe she couldn't do the same, no matter how hard she would try. Then he relaxed, kissing her hair.
"What makes you think he's not happy?" he murmured, voice mixture of confusion and doubt.
She shrugged. "Dunno."
"He is."
"He… he sounds like an incredible man, you know? Extraordinary doesn't cover it. The girl loves him very much. She would like him to know that, to feel it. She feels loved thanks to him. Does he? Is there something she can do to… prove herself or something like that?" she dug deeper, hoping he would let her in and tell her what he would wish for.
Matt was quiet for a while. The only sound was his heart, beating steadily in his chest as she was nestled against it. He took a deep breath several times as if he wanted to say something – he never did though. Finally he spoke, voice very quiet.
"He is seeking for forgiveness. Redemption. For the wrong he did, and not just once. She can't help him with that." And of course it would be something she could do nothing about. Of course it would be something from his own world, connected to the weight he carried on his shoulders. She appreciated the honesty though. She could hear he wasn't lying. "And the girl, she already did a lot for him. He did find happiness with her, you know?"
His heartbeat didn't change. Vera sighed again, not more satisfied than before.
"But there is one thing she did, he wasn't even hoping for. Yet, it seems she did it, no matter how insane that makes her."
It was her turn to freeze. What was he talking about? What had she done? Was he talking about keeping his secret safe? About …pretty much saving his live?
He wouldn't be so kind to tell her. He kept her waiting.
"What was it?" Vera asked cautiously, barely making any sound. She wrapped her arms around him tighter, worried he would rather leave than finish what he started.
She thought she heard disbelief and admiration in his voice. "She accepted him," he said simply and Vera didn't understand.
"Of course she did. Why wouldn't she? He's ama-"
"Foggy never did," he protested quietly, not letting her go when she wanted to withdraw and look at his expression. He sounded sad, but resigned.
Foggy didn't accept him? That was impossible. They were best friends. Inseparable. Foggy even knew about Matt being the Devil, he helped her to look for him when his… alter ego went missing. Why would Matt think he didn't accept him?
"But… but he knows. He's keeping your secret. He's your best friend." She was frowning, unable to wrap her mind around it.
He sighed. "He never came to terms with my… extracurricular activities. He keeps thinking about me and me as two different people. He stopped dissuading me from doing it, but that doesn't mean he approves. He just knows he can convince me to quit."
Foggy… didn't approve? How could he not to? Sure, it wasn't a perfect solution, but Matt was saving lives. When he couldn't do it in his lawyer suit, he changed tactics and outfit. Foggy was a great guy and Vera could tell he meant a world to Matt and she thought it went both ways. Now she knew better – and it was clear as day that the gap between them hurt Matt. A lot. How many people in his life truly accepted him – considering how few people knew about all aspects of his life? Hell, she wasn't sure she knew all of them yet.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be." He loosened his embrace, leaning back, tracing her face with his fingertips lightly. His expression was troubled, eyes watering. Vera had to blink against her own tears seeing his – she only saw him cry once, when she told him she knew – the image broke her heart all over again. "That's why it means so much for me, you know? That you… ever since I learned you figured it out, I'm waiting. I am waiting for the breaking point, for you to say that's it, I'm out, let's never meet again. And you're still here." The corners of his lips rose lamely.
She smiled reassuringly, hoping he could at least sense it. She had to swallow her tears before speaking.
"I love you, Matt. I might don't know everything about you yet, but what I do know, I can't reject. And there are parts of you I like more, parts I like less, but that's normal, right? It would be scary if you would be completely perfect – God knows, I am far, very far from it by myself. Yet, you make me feel like I am everything. So if there is something that would make you feel the same way, I want to do it."
Matt closed his eyes at some point of her heart-spilling, solitary tears silently streaming down his face, lips finally curling up in a smile. When she finished, he opened them again, something Vera couldn't decode in them.
"You do it every day," was all he said and kissed her sweetly, fingers sliding alongside her jaw tenderly as if she was made of glass.
They didn't speak after that. They were lying in each other's arms, whispering declarations that belonged to no one but them, slowly falling asleep. Vera didn't remember dreaming anymore.
The hearing was scheduled to ten – naturally, Vera was wide awake since five. Considering her night adventure, she slept for about three hours. She knew she looked like shit without even checking in the mirror.
Unlike her, Matt was totally limb, lack of sleep from the past few days (more significant lack of sleep than usual, that is) catching up on him. Hoodie unzipped, his bare chest was pressed against her back, hugging her protectively. (At home, with his silk sheets he supposedly slept with no top – when he had accidently mentioned it, Vera had asked him why he slept in the hoodie at her place then - after a while he had admitted that Vera's cotton sheets felt like a sandpaper on his skin – Vera had smacked his arm for lying to her since the very first night he had spent at her place.)
She tried to fall asleep again, not afraid of nightmares anymore, but with no success. For a while, she stayed in bed, dully staring at a wall, before she decided to get up, hoping she wouldn't wake up Matt. He didn't even register when she freed herself from his arms. She felt a stung of guilt, realizing how much her escapades had worn him out. If she hadn't felt his warm body and periodical breathing tickling her neck just seconds ago, she would be afraid he was dead.
And god, do not think about that.
She took a long bath, relaxing her weary muscles in the hot water – lately, they protested with every movement. And it wasn't just the fact she barely slept – she came to Fogwell's every day, in the morning as a regular customer if necessary, no music needed. She felt an urge to punch something all the time.
Vera spent solid hours in the tub, replacing the cold water several times. Her mind was blank and she was grateful for that. Only when she could no longer recognize where her body ended and water began, she got out. She found Matt in the kitchen, making her tea. She attacked him from behind, squeezing him tightly – something she did a lot lately.
They walked to the courthouse – they had enough time. Matt was trying to explain her for the thousandth time what she should expect so she wasn't caught off guard (more than was inevitable). He got a call from Nick on their way (she had no idea who he was), frowning and sighing and Vera knew that whatever was that about, it was not good. Matt clenched his jaw when ending the call. Out of blue, his expression cleared and he squeezed Vera's arm reassuringly – and she could tell it was just for show, an act for her.
"What?" she queried, scared by his silence and weird behaviour. She stopped dead in her tracks.
"It's nothing. Well, not nothing, but it's… a small complication," he exclaimed, voice filled with honesty Vera didn't believe.
"Matt. What happened?"
He sighed again. "The DA has food poisoning. He can't go. He passed the case to his assistant yesterday evening. But it's okay, Vera. It's an easy one – enough evidence to bring Collins down, your testimony on the top of that. There's nothing to be afraid of. Just like I keep telling you the whole time. Okay?"
The panic was back, growing in her chest again, suffocating her from inside. Some guy who knew nothing about the case was filling in and she was the only witness and she was a wreck. Matt had reassured her many, many times that the prosecutor was a mean lawyer, master of his discipline, who would support her as much as he could – and now he wouldn't come. This was a perfect beginning of her nightmare.
Vera didn't remember when it happened, but she was hidden in Matt's arms, once again being soothed by his gentle voice. It was a small miracle he hadn't dumped her yet. She definitely cried to his shirts more often than tearing them off. Maybe it was his guilt what made him stay – at that moment, she didn't really care, grateful he was here at all.
She took a deep breath in and he let her go, wet stain on his shirt. God bless waterproof mascara. Matt pecked her on her lips without saying another word. She was glad.
The courthouse was huge, wide stairway filled with groups of people from reporters to actual lawyers. Vera wanted to slip under everyone's radar, but with Matt on her side, it was impossible – people always stared at him. The only person approaching them was Foggy though.
"Hey, guys. So, how do you feel, my lady? Did sir Murdock manage to chase away all your fears? Or do I have to take care of it by myself again?" he greeted her with their old act from the benefit where he had saved her from the greedy arms of Alex Srba. Vera would laugh at that, but the sound coming from her mouth was closer to sob. "Alright. Stupid question. Shut up, Nelson. I got the message. Hey, man." He nodded to Matt, patting his arm lightly.
"Thanks, Foggy. You don't have to shut up. I glad you're here," she forced herself to smile a little, failing epically if the face he made was anything to go by.
"Okay. Why don't we get you in? The hearing starts in a few," Matt offered, practically dragging her in since her feet took root in the pavement. Foggy followed them like a dog loyal to his masters.
Vera had to sign up at some kind of a reception desk. The woman wanted her to stay before an officer would pick her up, which took about only two minutes. Matt gave her last strokes on her shoulder and reluctantly left her side, Foggy showing her thumbs up. She felt her knees turning into jello – not in the good way – painful knot in her stomach making her nauseous. This would be a disaster.
After the door to the courtroom closed, she had to wait with the officer outside until they called her in – it felt like an eternity. The way through the aisle between the pews full of people who came to simply watch the court drama was worse though – the moment she opened the door, all gazes fell on her. If they whispered, she wouldn't know – all she could hear was her heart, pounding in her ears loudly. Vera didn't look into their faces, no matter how much she desired to find Matt's and Foggy's among the others.
She was relieved when she sat on the settle next to the judge – people wouldn't stop watching her, but at least they couldn't see her unsteady gait and trembling hands.
She promised she would tell only the truth with her hand of the bible and eyed the people sitting at the tables in front of her. One person she knew too well – Officer Collins was sitting next to a very elegant man who was watching Vera's figure with predatory eyes, squinting. Collins himself wore neutral expression – but she could see the hints of a smug smile she remembered from her dream. She wanted to throw up. On the other side, they were two men as well – Vera didn't know them, but she could tell they were nervous just like she was. If she was sure of one thing it was the fact that DA's food poisoning couldn't be a coincidence.
Ježišmarja. We are so going to lose.
Vera quickly scanned the room to find Matt's face – he was sitting rather in the front, in the third row, right behind the assistant of the DA. She appreciated it, because that way she could look at him quite regularly without being suspicious. Matt had offered he would come to the trial for supporting her, but he knew her well and asked her at the very beginning of their discussion not to seek contact too often. Now, he smiled at her inconspicuously to encourage her.
The knock of the hammer made her jump. She really was a wreck. Jesus.
"After producing the evidence, we're summonsing Veronika Macháčková, born on 7th of February 1995 in Trutnov, Czechia, key witness in the case of Officer Daniel Collins, as his victim. Please, , do you have any question for the witness?" The jury was a black woman, short curly black hair, strong voice. Vera was startled by her speech, not sure who was – the assistant of the DA or Collins's lawyer?
To her relief, the man at Collins's side didn't stand up, which was the better option. Or at least she hoped so. Now they were facing each other, both scared like hell.
" , could you please tell us about your kidnapping which took place on 10th of October last year?" he approached with a question and Vera felt like someone tangled her vocal cords and stole her ability to speak or even form a sentence that would made sense.
Why the hell didn't he ask her a more direct question? It was like the interrogation room all over again – or in this particular case, like the hospital room – she wished she had pain-meds in her system and Sergeant Mahoney demanding answers instead of this man, whoever he was.
She cleared her throat. "I…uhm… I was…jumped in my apartment and vainly tried to fight the men off. They hit my head and drugged me with some chemical I breathed from a piece of fabric. Next thing I remember is being tied to a chair-"
"Was present in your apartment as well?" he interrupted her and Vera shot him a panicked look, her breath hitching.
What the hell? Why was he scoring his own goal? She didn't know, dammit! Wasn't that in the file? Had he even read it?
She couldn't tell tales. She sighed, fighting the urge to cry – or run away. "I don't know. I remember two men, none of them was Officer Collins, but he might have be there."
She saw a lamely hidden smile on Collins's and his lawyer's face. This was going swimmingly. He spoke up. "Objection, my honour. There was no evidence that my client was at this scene."
"Sustained." Knock of the hammer.
Vera squeezed her eyes shut. The situation resembled to her nightmare more than she would like.
gaped at Vera silently, eyes full of horror. He gulped, blinking, obviously getting himself together.
"Uhm. Sorry for interrupting you, . Please, continue."
Thank you. I might actually say something helpful so we could get the man back to prison where he belongs. Vera clenched her fist in attempt to reduce the trembling.
"I was tied to a chair in some dark room, no windows. Two men I remembered from the apartment were there – each of them punched me. Then I noticed as well."
"Are you saying he wasn't present before?" his lawyer called out and Vera shot him very ugly look. The judge knocked her hammer again to shush him. Vera was starting feeling strong sympathies towards the slightly scary woman.
Vera quickly eyed Matt – he was frowning, but he smiled reassuringly at her as if he sensed her gaze burning through his head. It was a little easier to breathe after that. This wasn't her nightmare – at least not yet. Matt was there (alive) and he believed in her. Well, that made one of them.
"I think what is trying to say is that she wasn't aware of his presence before – that doesn't mean he wasn't there. Please," defended her and beckoned her to continue.
She nodded in case it wasn't clear. "Yes. demanded answers I didn't have." (That was a small lie. She hoped it wasn't evident). "When I didn't tell him what he wanted to know, he punched me. It went on. Punches. Kicks. He was intimidating me, baseball bat in his hands-"
"I would like to remind that said baseball bat was one of the evidences we presented," Jowers said almost timidly and Vera could hear the judge rolling her eyes.
"Noted."
Vera looked around unsure whether she should go on. Matt nodded simultaneously with the ADA. "-And since I didn't tell him anything, he used it. Hit my arm repeatedly."
Few members of the jury shifted in their seat – Vera couldn't tell why exactly – she observed Matt, reading his expression. Was it good? Was it bad?
"Anything else you would like to tell us about the torture you were exposed? You were talking about two other men… were they involved in hurting you further as well?" And finally , the question you should be asking.
"There was one more man I didn't know. He wasn't involved in hurting me at all, not directly. And apart from the punches at the beginning, the two men weren't engaged in hitting me, no," Vera answered his question, almost delighted. She hoped no one notice that.
The ADA was apparently satisfied with himself, because he didn't seem to be so terrified anymore. "And would you please tell us how long your recovery from the injuries caused by took?"
Vera had to count in her head for a while – mostly using Matt's visits (and his other significant actions) as her clues. "I spent eleven days in the hospital, other three days with casts and splints for another week. I can't tell how long I wore the bandage for my ribs, I put it away some time before removing the splints."
"Thank you, . The medical records are enclosed in the file each of you received," he nodded to the jury, "I have to other questions for the witness, your honour."
"Alright. Sit down please. , representing the defendant . Do you have any question for the witness?" the woman asked, unimpressed.
gave her a polite smile which made Vera want to turn her empty stomach over. "Yes, your honour."
The judge only gestured, not saying another word. Blatchley approached Vera with a shark smile – there was no other word for it. Her heart hammered in her chest, fighting its way out.
" . The day after you were kidnapped, did you meet for the first time?"
I'm sorry what? she wanted to blurt out but stopped herself by biting her tongue. She blinked several times, confused by his question.
"Answer, please," he demanded, eyes cold.
"No." No, I met him before and I have no idea why are you asking.
"When did you meet him? Where? How?"
Vera's gaze flickered to Matt – he was frowning again, obviously not following either. What the hell?
"Objection. I'm sorry, how is this relevant to the case?" Jowers asked the question everyone wanted to ask.
"I'll get there. ?"
Vera anticipated something fishy about that question, but if she remained silent, it would look suspicious. "We met in the interrogation room where I was taken after being held hostage during a bank robbery. It was… three days before I was kidnapped."
"So he interrogated you."
"Yes-"
"That made you dislike him, didn't it?"
Vera was completely baffled. "Uhm…" Why was he asking that? "What makes you say that?"
raised an eyebrow. "You're not the one asking questions," he exclaimed, mean spark in his eyes, one corner of his lips raised in arrogant smile.
Shit.
And really? His manners were too similar to Collins's.
"Sorry. He interrogated me – wasn't treating me very well, lost his temper, had to be replaced by another officer – Sergeant Mahoney," Vera admitted, somewhat happy she could mention the best cop she ever met, making him a good guy.
Blatchley ignored her attempt to cast a pall over Collins. "So you didn't like him by the time you were saved?"
And what?
She cleared her throat, barely containing nervous laugh. "Well, he wasn't my favourite person. That usually happens when someone is trying to scare you, kidnaps you and beats you up."
"So can say you hated him. Perhaps feeling some desire for a personal vendetta…" he speculated and Vera couldn't contain her shock this time.
"Excuse me?" she blurted out, confused, outraged, scared, because she had no idea where that headed and it terrified her – this man, this spineless human being, seemed to be twisting reality, interpreting her words very loosely and that was exactly the way to set the monster sitting there free.
"Speculations!" complained and the whole room was swallowed by whispers.
"QUIET!" And several loud knocks, making Vera's ears hurt.
"Of course, only speculations. But I have to wonder why is my client so severely injured when his accompanies aren't," Blatchley continued and Vera was starting to realizing where he headed – if Matt's face was anything to go by, he did as well. Foggy was just confused. And outraged as much as Vera or Jowers was.
"Are you suggesting the witness hurt your client? That's ridiculous.," ADA protested, defending Vera's honour, not bothering to talk to the judge, which, okay, that wasn't very smart move. Most likely. "Even if she somehow caused him any injury, it would be a pure self-defence."
He was right. It was ridiculous. So why did it look like the members of the jury were actually interested in what he was implying?
"Oh, I don't. She was in no condition to hurt someone. It is clearly the vigilante who has blood on his hands…. Do you have any connection to the vigilante?"
Vera froze.
How the hell did that happen? She felt like she in fact was being interrogated. What, Collins paid his lawyer to finish his job and found out everything he could about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?
"Objection. How is this relevant to the case?"
Thank you!
"My client was severely injured-"
"While committing a crime-"
"-Severely injured and will suffer for the rest of his live, not being able to perform most of activities common to any person. I simply want to make sure your so-called victim didn't make any contribution by having a close association with the vigilante, which would cause his attempts to hurt him," explained and Vera had no idea how could anyone buy what this man was selling, disgusted he labelled her as so-called victim. Hello? Broken bones? And seriously, how was this relevant? Even if she had any connection?!
It wasn't like he was completely wrong. Collins had hurt her the most, so naturally he had got beat up the most. Matt's possibly developing feelings hadn't been important… that much. She was pretty sure he it wouldn't have made a difference if she had been a total stranger to him. Probably?
Silence.
"Alright, not strictly relevant, but ask your questions ," the judge finally agreed and Vera wanted to throw her hands in the air.
That was it. That was the part where she would mess up utterly. Vera couldn't lie. She wasn't a good liar. She was a terrible liar in fact. What if she said something that would blow this whole case up? What if the man, who tortured her, really would walk free?
What is she gave anyone a clue leading right to Matt?
"Thank you, your honour. So, . Do you have any connection to the vigilante known as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?
Vera couldn't lie – she wouldn't be convincing. And if she would, she would tie herself in knots over her lies and got caught eventually. Which would be even worse than admitting the truth. Her gaze flickered to Matt, who was paler than before, well-aware of her acting skills. Foggy didn't seem much better, except his expression was easily readable, not hidden behind glasses – he was terrified Vera would let the cat out the bag. Which made three people terrified by the very same thing.
"Yes."
"Interesting," he gave the jury a significant look saying: see, I am right. "What kind of a connection?"
Don't lie. Keep it simple. Don't say too much. Be smart about it. "I owe him my life."
The man rolled his eyes, but his voice remained calm. "Sweet. Let's ask another question perhaps. Do you know who he is?"
Don't look at Matt. She lowered her gaze to the table before responding. She tried to look him right in his eyes, nails digging in her forearm from effort not to look away.
"Yes," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady, not escaping his piercing eyes, "the man who saved me from certain death."
"Who said anything about death? Are you saying someone threatened your life? Not my client for sure. Anyway, you didn't answer my question completely. Do you know who he is, his name?"
And it really pissed her off - the way he protected that bastard who broke her ribs, while wearing a smug grin on his face. Blatchley knew very well his client was guilty as sin. He decided to build his defence on making him a victim of an uncontrollably violent vigilante. She recalled once again why she would never choose to be a lawyer – they could be heartless sons of bitches, who only cared for money. Most of them anyway.
She remained silent, biting her tongue, stopping herself form saying something inappropriate in his direction.
"I asked you a question. I wonder why you haven't answer yet. Actually, I have a record," he fished out some papers from his bag, "of you telling them his name was Mike. That strongly suggests you are aware of the identity of the vigilante…"
The room filled with concerned whispers. And fuck you, . She raised her eyes to the ceiling, pleading for strength. And for intellect so she would find a way out of this mess.
Don't let him to throw you off. You can do this. You did this before – just stick with the truth. Half-truth at least. She eyed the man, disgusted by the self-importance radiating from him. Something broke in her, filling her chest with suffocating righteous rage and determination. Anger was not a good master, it was a weapon of mass destruction even, she knew that, but like hell she would let him win.
Fight back. Think before speaking up, but FIGHT BACK.
"I did tell them that. Yes. You know why, ?" she asked him for once, slowly losing her temper, ignoring his content smile when he realised that. But no, she would not make a mistake as he hoped so. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
She found Matt again, just for a split second – his expression was worried, he must have heard the change in her heartbeat or something like that. Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Her mind was racing.
The trials were different in US than in Czechia. Here, the trial was a performance. It was an act, a theatre play. All that mattered was winning the favour with the audience – the members of the jury. was well-aware – he appalled to their compassion, tried to mislead them, manipulated them by creating crazy (well, not so crazy…) theories.
Vera couldn't do that. She was a terrible liar and even worse actress. She couldn't act, neither she was skilled in manipulating people. What she could do was telling them the story from her perspective, letting them know of every single detail she could share without giving herself away. She had been there. She could create the atmosphere, describing the picture precisely thanks to her painfully sharp memories and make them see. That was her advantage. She continued.
"Because your client – after breaking my arm and wrist, causing me a concussion, bruising my jaw, breaking my two ribs while cracking four others with a baseball bat, bruising my tibia and causing multiple injuries I can't even name if I don't want to bother you for too long – made very clear that if I really don't know the identity of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, I am no use for them. And since I already saw their faces… He kindly didn't finish that sentence, but I think we can both agree what he had in mind, don't we?"
Vera scared herself. Her voice was very factual, cold even. Yet, there were traces of pain and fear she felt that night. The wave of whispers rose again, more intense this time. She had to fight a satisfied smile. Matt didn't bother – one corner of his lips was up, soundless way of telling her she did a good job. The troubled expression was long gone.
The judge actually had to knock her hammer several times to shush the people. "Do you have any other questions, ?"
"One more. Or two."
"Go for it."
"So you claim you made the name up. Why Mike? Why not any other name? If you don't know his real one, as you assert," he demanded, voice less sure than before – he was lost. He knew that. He was clutching straws. He seemed pissed off. She couldn't blame him – some little daring girl working in a café he was no doubt superior to, was suddenly his equal.
"No real reason. I would go for John Doe, but it seemed too obvious." She didn't have to lie about that either. It would be obvious.
She thought someone chuckled – and she was sure heard it as well. His fist slammed the table in front of her. "Cut the crap, Machackova. You know his name – is it Michael? Or why did you say Mike?"
"Objection, is intimidating the witness-"
" , be so kind and keep it together. Your behaviour is highly inappropriate. And I fail to follow your train of thoughts now."
measured Vera with furious glare, slowly taking a step back. She didn't want to torture him. She didn't, not really. She just shared her thoughts from the hospital, for one moment blessing her knowledge (and maybe the sense of melodrama) gained by her obsession and guilty pleasure – tv series.
"You know, I actually wondered why I did," she begun and felt the gaze of each person in the room observing her (sightless or not). "I realized why. He's called the Devil of Hell's Kitchen – if I remember correctly, the name was given him after the bombings last year, when people believed he was a terrorist. His name was cleared, yet remained the same. Why the Devil, when in fact, you can see him anywhere, where the help is needed? He somehow knows about people crying for help. Like he's watching over this city, being its guardian angel. Did you know that Michael is a name of an archangel? The one who is like God? I did. Maybe this was the reason, why I said my kidnappers he was called Mike. Maybe in the darkest moment, in the darkest room, facing the humanity in its darkest form, I had a moment of clarity. A revelation perhaps. Does that answer your question sufficiently?"
Several people gasped (including few members of the jury), some of them laughed silently.
That was it. That was her final strike – he couldn't say a thing to deny her words. gaped at her, Collins was killing her with his glare… and Matt lowered his head, not smiling anymore, but she was sure if she had enough time to examine him, his cheeks would be flushed just like the time they talked about his name in the hospital. She thought Foggy patted Matt's hand.
"I believe we heard enough. Does the prosecutor have any other questions for this witness?" the corners of the woman's lips actually twitched in amusement.
"Not at all, your honour."
"Thank you, . You can leave the room, but please, wait for the end of the trial and don't share any information before we pronounce the verdict."
Vera nodded politely, trying to look the judge in the eyes despite being out of her mind. She couldn't break now. "Thank you, your honour."
Her steps were most likely hesitant, unsure, but she walked out of the room – several flashes of camera catching her. She heard something about the jury taking time for the verdict – she thought they said people don't have to leave, because it would be very quick. She sighed in relief when the doors closed behind her.
Šmarja. She leaned her back to the wall right next to the door, not confident she would make it to the bench without stumbling. Or collapsing.
With no eyes watching her, she let her knees give up, sliding down the wall, tears on her face immediately. She was tired. Exhausted. She knew she managed the trial without messing up – or she hoped so – but Jesus Christ. The pressure on her chest was unbearable and when she tried to breathe in, her lungs protested vehemently. She couldn't breathe. Her vision became blurry, tears changing the hall into an impressionistic painting – if impressionists liked their paintings being framed in black, slowly eating the picture from outside. Loud pounding of her own heart echoed in her ears, blocking any other sound.
"HEY!" high-pitched voice reached her and she blinked, finding the source of the unpleasant sound. "Hey! Can you hear me?"
Stinging feeling on her cheek snapped her back to reality, the image in front of her eyes getting sharper edges. There was a woman in front of her – fancy curled blond hair, bright eyes, perfect makeup, perfect beige suit. Raised eyebrow. Hand stretching for another slap.
" 'm gd," Vera protested weakly, blinking, still fighting for her breath. She managed one inhale. Yay for her. She slowly exhaled and the woman lowered her hand.
"Wanna try that again? What did you say?" she mocked her with a crooked smile and Vera came to conclusion she was probably a bitch – most of the time.
"I'm good. Just lost it for a second," she exclaimed, her hands finding a support – the floor and the wall – climbing and standing up. The woman stood up straight as well.
Whoa. The world was spinning.
The woman watched her expectantly – Vera didn't know if she waited for thank you, another reassurance she was alright or her collapsing to the floor once more.
The woman sighed and took her forearm. "Come with me, the bench is just a few steps over."
Vera blinked in surprise, but accepted her help. Huh, so much for the bitch image. Vera kept her eyes down, exploring it was the best way to walk at least a little straight. It made her dizzy though – especially when she noticed the woman's shoes - her heels were thin and very high – the kind of shoes Vera would break her ankle in if she wore them.
"Thanks." She sat down heavily, content she didn't have to take another step.
"Sure. Don't mention it." Moment of silence. "I'm serious. Don't mention it. I'm no charity. It would ruin my reputation…"
Vera smiled involuntarily and looked at her saviour once more. She seemed unimpressed by her breakdown as if she saw it any other day. There was no real interest in there. "I'll keep my mouth shut."
"You better."
The doors opened widely, Collins with his lawyer coming out first, then the ADA with his assistant (assistant that had an assistant?), followed by the crowd of reporters shouting each other down, demanding the answers. No one paid attention to Vera, luckily enough. She got a glimpse of Matt and Foggy, making their way to her.
"Foggy-bear?" the woman next to her called out in surprise and Vera snapped her head in her direction – the world spun with the movement again.
Foggy-bear? What the hell? She had to talk about Foggy, right? But…Foggy-bear?
Foggy finally approached them, while Matt was left behind since no one in the crowd really cared about him trying to get out and he had to keep his helpless blind man facade.
"Marci? What are you doing here?"
Marci? Marci. Why that name sounded familiar? …Oh. Foggy's ex-girlfriend. Lawyer as well. Matt had mentioned her when talking about his experience from college and Landman and Zack.
"Taking care of passing out damsels in distress, apparently," Marci answered, "I had a hearing. But what are you doing here? ...That was the cop who was involved in the kidnapping? Why are you interested? You think he was one of Fis-"
She never finished her sentence, taken aback most likely – Matt fought his way to them squatting in front of Vera, hiding her hands in his gingerly. "How are you?"
Vera felt the relief washing over her at his proximity and touch. She would appreciate a hug, but she would have to stand up first. Also the people would stare – she was pretty sure few of them did anyway. She smiled at him, well-aware he couldn't see it. He knew precisely how she was.
"Better now."
Matt returned her smile, somewhat sad. "Glad to hear that."
"Hold on a second. You two are…. And you're the witness as well," Marci reassured herself and Vera nodded hesitantly. "Murdock, no offence – who am I kidding, be offended all you want – but your girl is kinda soft. I had to pick her up from the floor."
The hint of a smile at Matt's face disappeared – Vera wondered whether he knew about her little breakdown or whether he was too consumed by whatever was happening in the courtroom at that time.
Before he could even open his mouth, Foggy protested instead. "Hell, no!"
"Thank you, Foggy. Vera is a lot of things, Marci. I wouldn't say soft is one of them. You should have seen her in there. She killed it. I didn't know Blatchley could be thrown off balance like that," he said, voice proud, stroking the back of her hand. He tilted his head – considering – and then leaned in to give her a tender kiss on her forehead. "You did great, Vera. I mean it."
"She was a total smart ass. Basically doing DA's job for him – or ADA's, whatever. Reminding them your injuries? Smooth. It gave me goose bumps, the way you did it. I think few members of the jury considered mitigating the sentence for a while. After that? Nah," Foggy flattered her and she felt colour returning to her cheeks, blushing slightly, looking away. Matt's fingers turned her face back to him, kissing her on the lips this time, letting her to feel his own admiration. Felling much better at the moment, she returned his kiss with enthusiasm.
"You know you're still in the courthouse, right? Keep it for later. People are watching," Marci noted.
Matt didn't seem to be bothered by the fact and met her lips few more times before withdrawing. Vera checked their surroundings for any audience – there were several onlookers. She blushed harder. She hoped no one took a picture.
"Wanna grab a lunch, Marci? We're heading out. Well, I'm heading out, not sure about the lovebirds. So, lunch?" Foggy offered, paying attention mostly to his ex, who seemed to be considering.
"Not today Foggy-bear. But we might soon. Call me?" she winked at him, stood up with a brief look at Vera – suddenly thoughtful – and left the hall.
"What about you, huh? You're dumping me too, aren't you?" he asked, not really waiting for an answer.
Vera wanted to be alone with Matt – actually hide in his arms, snuggling in her bed, enjoying his company, most likely even sleep, lunch be damned. But she was grateful Foggy attended her court together with Matt, supporting her – and him as well. She wouldn't dump him, not with those sad puppy eyes.
Damn, she was soft. Her gaze flickered to Matt, whose lips were twitching in amusement, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking about.
"Fine. Fine, we'll grab lunch together. And you tell me what happened after I-" ran away "-left. Where are we going?"
"Anywhere! I'm paying. You're the guest of honour today. Oh man, I can read the headlines already – Murdock's girl adopting his manners, Smartass witness sealing the sentence, Machackova's testimony brought the defence to its knees…" he started naming and Vera rolled her eyes, secretly pleased by his pronouncements and astonished by the conviction in his voice. He truly believed she didn't screw up – and actually helped.
Offering Matt her arm, she followed Foggy outside this madhouse. She hoped she would never have to come back.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Where to next? I'm about to start posting 'book two' of Damned series. Coming soon :))