Extended summary:
In which Oliver is kind of an egotistical D until he's not, Foggy is a D as well (with a reason though), Diggle is being a father despite not having actual kids, Felicity meets someone who put their feet in their mouth almost as often as she does, Terri is everything but subtle about her crush and Vera learns Hawkeye is not the only archer in the world and that she may need to rethink her life choices. More or less in that order.
It's definitely less funny and more angsty than it sounds.
Set during Damned If I Don't between chapters The punch-line and Strong enough to stand.
Arrow somewhere in season 2, because OTA – Original Team Arrow .
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Keep on Hoping
Falling in this great divide
The earth, it splits, and my feet on both sides
Oh, my faith is shaky
I got to keep on hoping
Keep on hoping
When it all feels broken
Got to keep your hope alive
(X Ambassadors – Hoping)
Vera understood what it meant to be tired, like really tired – when in college, she had sometimes stayed up extremely late to study and in Hell's Kitchen she had had maybe too many night adventures that had been stealing her good night sleep. Not so long time ago she had been haunted by terrifying nightmares about her being at court and ever since Matt had left with his creepy ninja master, well…. So she could relate. But sometimes the people coming to MDDC (obviously exhausted) demanded their daily dope just rudely. They were like bears violently woken up from their winter sleep. Sometimes she wanted to yell to their faces that they were not the only ones who felt like shit. But hey, she was the one behind the counter and she was expected to be all smiles and politeness, so she tried.
It was about two months since Matt had left – who was she kidding, it was exactly 54 days, she had been counting, because she was a masochist – and thing were…okay. Not good, definitely not great, but she still had her job, people were attending her lessons, she had enough money to come by and Terri was trying hard to distract her whenever she had a chance. So no matter how much Vera missed Matt, no matter how many nights she spent crying instead of sleeping, scared to death, wondering if he was even still alive, she managed to smile at her customers and do her job.
Some days and some people were just more difficult than others. Like this guy.
Vera had been working in the café long enough to recognize a person with shitty mood a mile away – and in his case, it wasn't even a difficult thing to do, because he was bickering by the time he came in. Wearing an elegant black coat, unbuttoned so Vera could see his undoubtedly very, very expensive suit under it, and an irritated expression, he was on the phone. The grimace didn't suited him – his face was likeable (and who was she shitting again, he was extremely attractive), dark blond hair slightly ruffled, eyes bright blue, but somewhat cold, lips thin line – Vera was sure when he smiled, girls fell to his feet one after another. Too bad he seemed arrogant. Finding his place in the long line, he ended the call, raising his gaze to the ceiling, cursing under his breath.
The man behind him – and Vera didn't realize they belonged together until he noted something which apparently pissed off the blond man even more, judging by the look he shot him – was huge. The businessman's shoulders were broad, sure, but the black man by his side looked like a walking rock. The way he wore himself reminded Vera of Victor – except this guy would put Victor to shame, because he was… like a miniature Hulk. Black man, short haircut, coat obviously too tight. If Vera met him in a back alley, she would freak out and try to run. Yet, his eyes were kind, amused sparks in them as he teased his friend – or boss? He was definitely giving a bodyguard vibe.
Vera finished her tea and returned behind the counter. And of course, after few 'what can I get you?' the two men approached the counter, being her customers. The blond eyed the menu for the first time, expression less irritated and more neutral. Better than nothing. Vera waited shortly before she asked about their order.
"Welcome to MDDC, what can I get you?"
Smile, Vera.
The intense blue eyes flickered to her and returned to the board. She didn't push.
"Hello, I would get one Americano, two sugars, please," said the black man, genuine smile on his own lips. Vera looked at him instead, welcomed by dark warm irises.
"Sure thing. Size? Here or to go?"
"Here. Tall?"
Vera nodded, entering the order in the cashbox. "And for you, sir?" she turned to him with displeasure, professionalism never leaving her though.
"The same, thanks," he demanded, his gaze aimed right at her eyes. Her heart jumped, fright and excitement mixing in her. He was attractive indeed, but there was something what made her feel anxious; his eyes caught hers adamantly, not releasing her easily.
"Of course. It will be 5,60 please." Vera hoped they didn't notice her relieved exhale when he finally looked away. As expected, it was him who pulled out the credit card, paying for both coffees. "Thank you, sir. Choose your table, I'll bring you your order as fast as possible."
It didn't surprise her it was the black man who expressed gratitude for both of them, while the businessman already left to find them a seat. Vera was happy to spin on her heels and roll her eyes at his behaviour as she prepared their coffees.
She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but they found one of the nearest tables and they weren't exactly subtle.
"You know, it would be easier to ask for her help than playing Mr. I know it all. She does know her way around the computer stuff," the bodyguard offered patiently and Vera had a feeling it wasn't the first time he said it.
The blond man huffed and shot him an annoyed look. "Come on, Diggle. It's not rocket science! I can handle it."
"Sure. I can see that…" Diggle answered innocently, irony in each word. "Whatever, it's your millions."
Millions, huh?
The man didn't react and furiously drew something on a tablet he had pulled out of the inner pocket of his coat, frowning, mumbling something quietly. It sounded a lot like cursing.
Vera's lips twitched as she circled the counter, taking the cups to her hands. And maybe it was the warm in Diggle's eyes, the way he teased his friend, or the fact she expected to never see them again. Maybe it was just the tea (and her coffee) Vera had drank earlier – she was actually in a good mood. She put the cups down and scribed a note on the blond's napkin.
A smile costs less than electricity, but gives more light.
Content, she brought them their order, smiling to each of them despite the businessman's lack of attention.
"Here we go. If you need anything else, let me know."
Diggle nodded and Vera thought he kicked the other man under the table. He didn't react and Vera bit her lip to stop herself from chuckling.
She kept observing them inconspicuously while serving other customers. The blonde was still fighting with his tablet, the black man running his hand down his face. He must have said something, because the blond made a face and then raised an eyebrow. Mr. I know it all sighed and rock-paper-scissored with the bodyguard, losing and throwing his hand in the air. He stood up and Vera quickly returned her attention to the customers, because he headed to the counter. He stopped where people usually picked up their 'to go' coffee, waiting. Caroline was on her break and Lyla was preparing another order, so it was on Vera once again. She calmly finished her previous order, looking at him only after her customer left.
"Can I help you, sir?"
He actually seemed reluctant. It was the weirdest combination – the expensive suit, his previous behaviour and current hesitance. Small smile appeared on his lips and Vera saw she was right about the falling girls. She might fall too. He had a nice smile when he bothered with one.
"Yes. Please. Any chance there is wi-fi here?"
His gaze was less cold as he blinked, finding her eyes. Her heart would flutter, she was a sucker for beautiful eyes, but remembering his earlier arrogance, she knew better.
"Sure. The password is on your check."
"Oh." He was apparently surprised, expression almost guilty. "I'm sorry. I left it on the counter…" He offered another smile, innocent, somehow boyish. He was actually cute. And he had a nice voice, pleasantly low-pitched once it wasn't ruined by the annoyance in it.
Vera had to return the favour, this time honestly, and wrote the password on a piece of paper, handing it to him.
"Thanks."
He headed back to the table, both Vera and Diggle watching him. For some reason, Vera couldn't really tear her eyes away for a long time, always checking on them from time to time. She saw the blond one pick up his phone, expression uncomfortable. Later, she met his gaze when he finally noticed her message on the napkin, raising an eyebrow and giving her an extra smile for it, lighting up the room indeed.
Only then Vera managed to return to her work with full attention – just in time to see a nervous guy, shoving her his number. She blinked in surprise, trying to hide her lack of delight at his action. Once he was gone, she sighed and crumbled the paper up, tossing it to the garbage bin under the cashbox.
"Did you just throw away the guy's number?" an outraged voice accused her and she snapped her head up.
"Foggy! Hey. What can I get you?" she greeted her… friend, she guessed. They weren't talking, not really – he would stop by in the café sometimes or text her to find out if she was alright. Vera always pretended to be strong and cried her eyes out later.
His face was equivalent of guilt; an expression he wore rarely since guilt was Matt's area of expertise. Vera's heart was squeezed by cold fist.
"Foggy? Everything okay?" she asked despite being sure nothing was okay.
He fidgeted. "Uhm… got a minute?"
Vera felt bad about this. Very bad. His gaze was mostly pinned to the floor. She hesitantly eyed her colleagues – they seemed to be handling things just fine – so she circled the counter and walked with Foggy aside.
"What's going on?"
He sighed. "Maybe… maybe we should sit?" he offered and the worst scenarios appeared in her mind. Matt had reached out to him to let him know he was never coming back. Matt announcing he was on a death bed. The old blind man coming back to town only to tell Foggy (and Vera was sure he would find Foggy, somehow knowing about his friendship with Matt) his best friend was decapitated or some shit. She felt her knees weaken.
Vera leaned onto the wall, declining his offer. "No. What is it, Foggy?"
He sighed again, looking somewhere next to her head – he hadn't initiated eye contact even since he had come in. The sinking feeling in her stomach told her he had a good reason for that.
"It's the office. I'm not handling it. We can't keep the lights on, pay Karen and pay my own rent when I am the only one working with clients. You know we often took pro bono cases, the financial situation was never good…. We're broke, Vera. I have to shut it down," he blurted in one breath, his words knocking out her own.
Shut it down? As in shut down Nelson & Murdock?! But-
"Foggy! You can't! What- what are you gonna do instead? What about Karen?"
What about Matt when he comes back? the most important question she left unspoken, tears slowly appearing in her eyes as his exclaim slowly sunk in. Dammit. This had been a good day.
Foggy opened his mouth just to close it again, pity written all over his face. Screw pity! She didn't want his pity, she wanted him not to give up! It only had been two months. Only 54 days!
"Vera, look… it's a fact. Karen has been working part time in The Bulletin and I've been looking into some firms hiring-"
"Maybe you should be working on what you've started with your best friend instead!" she shot back, well-aware of her harsh tone.
He grimaced as if he was in pain. "Vera, he's… I don't think he's coming back-"
"DON'T," she warned him coldly, blinking furiously against the tears. Vainly – they strolled down her cheeks, relieving her inner tension at least a little. "Don't you dare to say something like this again."
His eyes were glassy too as he bit his lower lip, gaze observing the floor with interest. "It's been two months, Vera-"
"You don't get to tell me you're giving up on him and call me Vera," she growled. It was right. Terri did, Claire, Nina, occasionally Foggy and Karen, but otherwise everyone had accepted she wanted to be called Nica a while ago. Every time someone addressed her 'Vera', it felt like punch right to her gut. She had even asked to get her a new nametag – she had been bewildered, but hadn't protested.
"I don't want to give up!" he protested, offended and hurt. "But let's be real! Even if he comes back, we don't know if he'll be himself!"
The edges of her vision darkened, embracing her in its soothing arms. She wrapped her own arm around her waist, feeling her façade of relatively happy person crumbling in the pile of dust.
"What did you just say?" she choked out, unable to breathe in properly.
Foggy gently stroked her shoulder. "Vera, you know under what circumstances he left. Maybe it's time to move on. We have no idea what he's been through with them. It might change him."
And what if Foggy was right? Even if Matt came back to Hell's Kitchen, what was going to be left of him? Would he be still Matt? Or more like Mike? Or neither? A shell of a man she loved?
No, no, no. Matt was strong. Vera once told that the lame excuse for a man who took him away – he was a fighter, with his own conviction, never letting himself to be brainwashed and changed into something he didn't want to be. And if there was something he didn't want to be, it was his mentor.
Vera raised her chin in combative gesture.
"He will come back. Try to manage another month, Franklin. Because he will return and he'll be wrecked if he finds out the thing he was fighting for so hard went to vain." She shook off his hand, returning back to work. He stood there for several moments, before he reluctantly turned around and walked away, concerned eyes watching her. She answered him with cold glare, feeling her insides turning into ash.
That bastard. How could he?
Vera thought she could handle it – but after two customers, she sobbed, excused herself and disappeared in their private room, hand over her mouth to muffle her hysterical gasping for air, fighting for oxygen she seemed to lack. Her chest was raising violently, heartbeat loud in her ears together with never-ending buzzing of her blood rushing, muffling all her surroundings. Shadows covered her vision once again, head spinning. She didn't know when it happened, but she was now sitting on the floor, leaning her back onto the wall, subconsciously curling up in a ball, doing her best to keep her body from falling apart. Her hand grasped the hearts-shaped charm on her neck on instinct.
"He will -come -back," she whispered silently between gasps. "He will come back. He will come back, he will come back…" She repeated that sentence multiple times, over and over again, not caring her voice broke; she continued, saying it again and again until she believed it. She squeezed the necklace before placing a small kiss on the hearts. She blinked against her tears, drying her cheeks and eyes with a tissue from her apron. Deep inhale. Slow shaky exhale. Repeat. And repeat.
Vera huffed, climbing up the wall, dusting off her uniform. She forced her mouth to form a smile. "He will come back." She walked back, ignoring the curious gazes of her colleagues.
Please. I'm fine.
Vera served few other customers before she found herself facing the blond man again. She blinked in surprise, making sure she didn't imagine it. The fact he was wearing a genuine smile didn't help her believe it was real. She gathered herself and greeted him with "what can I do for you".
"How much is a smile?" he asked, voice soft, eyes gleaming with emotion she couldn't read. And it reminded her of Matt so painfully all of sudden – the boyish smile from earlier, now the gentle voice, kind eyes. She gasped as the memory stung her. If she was lucky, he would consider it reaction for his question.
And really, what kind of a question was that?!
"I'm sorry?" she choked out, throat tight from her breakdown and taken aback on the top of that.
"I would like to know how much is the smile you've wrote about," he repeated patiently and Vera blinked in confusion, her mind racing.
He didn't seem to be flirting with her. So why did he ask? Teasing her? She wasn't sure she had enough strength for it at the moment, but she managed to come up with a reasonable answer, watching his expression from under her eyelashes timidly.
"Uhm… usually…usually it's for free. But… uhm. I'm sorry. The item is not… not on the menu right now." Vera was proud of herself.
The corners of his lips went down. He sighed. "That's a shame. I should have looked better before. In that case, I would need you advice. If you offended someone, not appreciated her brilliance enough, what kind of a coffee would you buy as an apology?"
Vera couldn't help it. Her head turned the direction of their table, seeing a newcomer – likeable blond girl with a ponytail and distinctive glasses. She was calmly scribing something on the tablet he had fought with earlier. Mr. Diggle apparently won and Mr. I know it all called for help. Wow. That must have hurt his ego.
The blond cleared his throat and Vera snapped her head back to him. He didn't look hurt, more like resigned.
"Uhm. Sorry. Well, I don't really drink coffee by myself-" Yeah. He raised an eyebrow at that. Everyone always did, especially if they knew where she worked. "-it depends . I would probably go for caramel latté. But I don't know. Is she a health freak? The lattés contains quite solid amount of sugar – if that's the case I would buy an ordinary Americano for example, sweeting it with a sincere verbal apology."
His eyes popped and he seemed to freeze for few seconds; then he burst out laughing. Vera covered her mouth when she realized how rude that was. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That was inappropriate. I'm so sorry, sir."
He stopped, corners of his lips twitching, eyes shining now, not letting out a word. She continued her apology. Babbling. Babbling usually saved the day.
"I mean… I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I noticed you are probably a businessman, you have a lot of money and there are not many things you couldn't afford, so I just thought that the woman knows that and she would appreciate something you cannot buy her, something—"
He examined her, smile never leaving his lips, tilting his head, considering her sanity. She shut up, feeling her own mouth forming that weird shape indicating amusement. She was such an idiot. She coughed tactfully.
"I'm sorry, did you choose you coffee?"
"Yeah, yeah I did. I'd like the caramel latté? Don't worry about the sugar. Even though I will add a verbal apology as well," he did tease her this time and she quickly entered the order and told him the price – he paid cash, leaving a huge tip. She felt her cheeks burning. Jesus. Her emotions were unpredictable like the April weather – changing within seconds, raining too often.
She offered to bring him the latté – he decided to wait, so she directed him few steps to his left where another customer waited for his 'to go'. She put the ceramic cup down in front of him. "Here you go."
"Thank you. And thanks for the help." He observed her sympathetically, eyes kinder than before, and added hesitantly: "I know it's not my place to say this, I know nothing about you or the person you miss-"
Her breath hitched, heart stopping in her chest. Was she that loud? When she cried? Or had he heard her conversation with Foggy?
"-but he will come back. Especially if he knows someone special is waiting for him and believes in him."
Small encouraging smile and he was gone, approaching his accompanies, delicately handing the woman her latté. The woman accepted reluctantly and he probably said something she liked, because she nodded and a smug grin appeared on her face.
Vera was standing frozen, watching the strange man who was even more unpredictable than her. She couldn't find herself to feel sorry for him hearing what he perhaps shouldn't have – the honesty he spoke with, the conviction in his voice, it helped her to get her second wind.
Screw Foggy. Vera was right. Matt would come back – Matt and Matt only.
Vera was glad she had a lesson that day – she needed to punch the shit out of the bag and she was determined as never. If the exercise was more 'boxing' than 'fit' that day, no one complained. In contrary, Bryan approached her after the stretching, full of enthusiasm, praising her boxing skills once more. It pleased her and saddened at the same time – the person who had taught her was somewhere far away, fighting someone else's fight.
She cleaned up the gym – sloppily, she knew – and headed home. She was exhausted, both physically and psychically. She took a long shower, washing her hair, trying not to think. Her head was still too awake to go to sleep. She checked the Devil's sightings out of habit, not expecting any news – there were none, none of the Devil's at least. To her shock, there were few 'thank you' notes – they spoke of young people, with no masks, usually in pairs, saving them from being mugged or assaulted. Vera was reading about it in awe, her mind wandering. If other people were standing up for others… she shook off that ridiculous thought before it had an opportunity to actually root in her head.
Vera sighed, nesting on her couch with the laptop, catching Anna on their group chat. She learned that Marky was freaking out because the tablecloth they had chosen for her wedding wasn't being manufactured anymore. Vera had to wonder how drastically different their problems were, but wrote she felt really sorry for her anyway.
Loud bang on her fire escape made her jump, her head snapping up in that direction immediately.
What the hell?!
The sudden hope rising in her chest made her spring from the couch, almost knocking her laptop over. Normal people wouldn't go to the window in this case or at least they would take an improvised weapon. Not Vera – when something loud rumbled on her fire escape, it only could be good news. Or she believed so.
Vera squinted in the dark, finding a crumbled figure with a hood over his head. She quickly opened the window widely, examining her night visitor.
Her heart sank. It wasn't Matt – the body built was wrong, the hood, the way he was struggling to stood up again, the- the bow?
"Hawkeye?" she gasped, absolutely shocked when she recognized the ancient weapon. What the hell was he doing here? What the hell was he wearing?
He raised his free gloved hand, showing her he meant no harm.
Of course he didn't. Clint Barton wouldn't hurt her.
"What are you doing here?" She measured him with confused look, her gaze stopping at the dark stain on his green pants on his thigh. He was injured. "What happened? How can I help you?"
"I don't know who you think I am," a weird deep mechanical voice said and she froze.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, this wasn't Hawkeye. There was some creepy archer on her fire escape and she just practically let him in. See, Macháčková, that's what you get when you're mingling with vigilantes and superheroes.
Vera rapidly closed the window, but it was too late – the man pushed against the glass determinedly, leaving a bloody imprint of his glove. Vera gasped, trying to overpower him. Vainly, of course.
"Please. I just need to borrow your phone, make one call," he pleaded, emotions hardly recognizable with the voice disguised by some device. He sounded desperate though.
Vera hated herself for having a soft spot for injured creepers at her window. Dammit, Veronika.
"Heaven help me," she whispered as she lost the pressure and the window opened once again, the archer climbing in.
"Thank you."
She sighed, walking backwards to her phone – she wasn't that stupid to turn her back to him. She already had one very sharp object piercing through her body in this apartment. She wasn't keen on letting it happen again, thank you very much.
"I assume you don't wanna call 911?" she asked casually.
In the light of her living room, his outfit – pants, some cape, eye mask peeping out from under it – was intense green, like tree leaves after a rain. She wondered why he was wearing green, when lurking in the middle of the night; black would be much more convenient. And maybe, just maybe there was something wrong with her when she was thinking about that instead of the fact there was a freaking archer she had never seen before – or heard about for that matter – in her living room, demanding a phone call and she automatically assumed he didn't want to go to a hospital despite the growing bloody stain on his leg. And she was borrowing him her phone with only slight hesitation. It was so crazy it actually sounded like her.
Hearing the voice again, she could read it easier – he was taken aback by her question. Losing his glove, he extended his hand. "Is that how you usually treat masked strangers appearing at your window?"
And Vera hated he thought about the same thing. She thrust the phone in his hand. "Maybe you're not the one who should be asking questions," she cooled him down, realizing she was right.
"Fair enough," he agreed, dialling and shifting his weight. He must have been in pain – Vera was no expert and she couldn't see much of his wound, but it looked bad. The idiot she was, she headed to the bathroom for her first aid kit. She kept it enormously equipped with Claire's help. For Matt, obviously. She didn't expect more visitors that night, she wouldn't be that lucky, so she thought she could use most of it and supplement it later.
"-the coms gave out. I'm good," she heard him say as she was coming back. Sure, he was good. Why did that keep happening to her? "Does the GPS still work? Could you… great. Could you get closer to this place? …Yeah, he got lucky, but-"
Vera felt her lips spreading in a smile – whoever this man was talking to, they were chewing him for telling them he was okay when he actually wasn't. The very same time she smiled, she felt tears stinging in her eyes, remembering her own experiences with that.
Not now, Veronika.
"Just… please?" he pleaded, sounding actually guilty. "Thank you."
"So, you wanna tell me who the hell are you, what are you doing here, who you were talking to and if I can trust you not put an arrow in me?" she shot questions in his direction while he reluctantly returned the phone and took several steps to his right, supporting himself on the back of her couch, the bow still in his hand.
'Good'. Yeah, he sure looked good. Peachy.
Vera thought that the funny sound coming from the device disguising his voice was him clearing his throat.
"I am not going to hurt you. And the less you know about me, the better. My… team should be here in few minutes. I'll find my way out. Thank you," he pushed his body up and hissed in pain as he put weight on his injured leg.
"Sit down, you moron," Vera ordered, suffocating feeling in her chest getting stronger as he reminded her of Matt again.
'I'm good.' 'I am not going to hurt you.' 'The less you know…' She fought the tears in her eyes bravely.
Vera couldn't help Matt, he wasn't here. But she trusted her instinct on this man – he wasn't a bad guy, apparently some kind of a mysterious vigilante as well, so basically a good guy. He was here, hurt, and she would be able to help him. Maybe somewhere, someone was helping Matt the same way.
"Excuse me?" he choked out and turned back to her, fingers pressing against his right thigh.
"I said 'sit down, you moron'. Unless you have a bullet in there, I can take care of it."
He hesitated, sounding very dubious. "What, you're a doctor? A nurse? Why would you help me?"
He was tempted though, she could tell. He was in pain, he didn't want hospital and whoever was in his team apparently didn't have medical degree since he actually considered her help.
"The less you know about me, the better," she quoted him. She opened the kit so he could see its content. "Now, do you want my help or not? If you do, take the pants off."
And Jesus, the last person she told that was Matt. Her hand trembled, so she put the kit down, heading for the fridge – she kept a whiskey there for a while. Sometimes she gulped it before she went to bed, burning feeling in her chest easing up her sleeping trouble. Apart other things.
"Are you drinking before patching me up?" he complained incredulously, but seated himself on her couch. If she was going to answer him she needed another shot. She turned the bottle bottoms up again and put it back.
"Yep. I know a guy – when he was a kid, he used to stitch up his dad who was a boxer and one day he came home with a split eyebrow. His nine-year old son tasted scotch for the first time so his hands wouldn't shake when fixing his father's face."
The man didn't react. He simply stripped as much as was necessary and she put on the latex gloves. It didn't look that bad when she saw it from shorter distance – she could handle it. But she would be lying if she claimed she was perfectly calm.
"Sorry, I don't have any anaesthetic. I can give you some aspirin at least, but I'll be done before it even kicks in…" she mumbled under her breath, not really expecting any answer.
"It's okay."
Vera could tell he was watching her while she was working systematically. She disinfected the wound, relieved when she saw it wasn't too deep – well, it was and it was bleeding like a bitch, but the femoral artery wasn't hit, blood didn't sprout out periodically. All he needed was two stitches for the muscle, five stiches for fascia and another seven for skin that needed to be removed later.
He didn't even flinch. How ordinary was this situation for him? Was his body a patchwork of scars and stitches just like Matt's?
Vera pulled off her gloves and examined her work, surprisingly satisfied with it. She looked at the stranger, welcomed by his gaze burning so intensely she could see it even in the shadows his hood provided. His eyes felt familiar. Or maybe she was just lying to herself, projecting her wishes into this man, searching for familiarity and connection where were none.
He put his pants on, reaching for his bow, standing up. She stood up as well and his bare hand touched hers, fingers curling up around her wrist.
"Thank you," he whispered and Vera would swear she heard his real voice behind the disguised one.
The gentle tone sent her over the edge, the levee holding back her tears breaking. She pressed her lips together tightly, holding back her sobs at least.
She didn't manage to say 'you're welcome'. All she could think of were words that wouldn't belong to him.
Of course, Matt. Always.
I'm here whenever you need me.
You should be more careful.
Will you stay?
I love you, Matt.
Hesitant arms embraced her and she was so stupid she buried her face to his chest, accepting the comfort he was offering. Because that was her – falling in the arms of men who hid their faces. She chuckled and sobbed at the same moment.
"Sorry," she mumbled into his hoodie (?) and he gently stroked her back.
Oh, Matt. I miss you so much.
His embrace loosening, she withdrew, unable to look up again. He whispered another "thank you" and climbed out of her window, disappearing in the dark.
It occurred to Vera she had never asked him to put his shoes off. But that was okay. He wasn't Matt, that way they would never blend into one. She didn't bother to put the first aid kit away or tidying up. She headed to the bedroom, set her alarm, fell to bed and cried herself to sleep.
- OTA (Oliver)
"Oliver! What the hell happened?" Felicity demanded as he stumbled to the back of their rented van they had parked in the nearest alley. She was watching him with concern of her own from the driver seat. Diggle was in the back, waiting for him, ready to fix whatever he thought was wrong with him.
"I'm good. Already stitched up, in fact," he reassured her and pulled his hood down.
"What?!" two voices asked unison and he had to smile at their coordination.
"What do you mean you're already stitched up? Show me, you idiot," Dig ordered and Oliver just rolled his eyes and stripped his pants once again. Dig lighted up his phone flashlight, examining Nica's work. He whistled. "What, did you crushed at the ER? Or some doctor's apartment?"
Felicity observed their exchange, bewildered. "Is it good?"
"It's amazingly precise. Quality material too," Dig exclaimed in awe. "Seriously, Oliver. Where have you been? And what went wrong anyway? You insisted it would be an easy job, that's why I didn't come with you."
"It was," he protested. "Dumb mistake. Missed a knife. I think that with one more meeting – a civil one – we will have our problem handled." No more money laundering at the New York branch of Queens Consolidated. No more heroin in his company. How did that even happen?
Dig hummed, not entirely convinced. "We'll see. Now, did you attack someone's fully equipped first aid kit and did this by yourself or did someone do it for you?"
Oliver knew his own voice sounded absolutely astonished. But he did not see that coming. Like, any of what just happened. "Not a doctor. A barista, actually. The girl who served us today."
"You gotta be kidding be." Unisono. His smile spread wider as he was changing his clothes since his pants were down anyway.
"That's not the best part."
It didn't click until she had finished her job and cried when he expressed his gratitude. Nica's/Vera's outburst at the end of their encounter reminded him of the conversation she had led with the guy in a café, the one that had gotten her so upset that she disappeared to the back and returned with her eyes red from crying. She missed someone, someone who had left two months ago and the man she had talked to was worried the missing person wouldn't come back. Then there was her obvious experience with patching someone up and incredibly well-equipped first aid kit. The fact she hadn't freaked out as much as a regular person would when she had found a man in a hood on her fire escape. 'Hawkeye' was a mystery for him, but the rest pointed in one direction only.
"What's the best part?" Dig asked suspiciously and Oliver's smile grew into a full grin.
"I think I found the girlfriend of the local vigilante."
- Vera
"Are you fucking kidding me? That's such an asshole thing to say! And do!" Terri exclaimed, voice righteously angry. Her face was pissed off and disgusted – a combination Vera hadn't seen very often on her. "He does it and I'm done with him. Nelson won't exist anymore. Except the times I'll spit in his coffee," she promised solemnly and Vera's couldn't help smiling at least a little.
She had come to MDDC in the morning looking like a zombie, her eyes red, because she almost hadn't slept (again) and her eyes were burning from the late night crying on top of that. Terri had given her a sympathetic look and hugged her the very same moment she had walked through the door, comforting her friend. Vera hadn't tell her about her night adventure with the mysterious archer being the trigger – she had simply told her what Foggy had announced her yesterday. It was enough.
And then Caroline had waltzed in and they couldn't have really talked about it apart from occasional notes, gloomy mood hovering around them. Yet, Vera had managed to smile politely at the customers. Or she hoped so.
Vera sighed.
"I get it, okay? I believe it's hard, but it's been two months, Terri. How can he give up after two months?" she complained, but Terri didn't seem to pay attention to her; she was frozen, gaze glued to the door. Vera followed it and saw the unlikely group from yesterday entering their café again – the blonde, the businessman and the bodyguard, all of them in high spirit.
"Tell me about it. This hottie came back after five years of being stranded on an island in North China Sea," Terri said dreamily and Vera looked at her in confusion.
"What?" she asked, while they scanned the café – the thickest crowds were already gone after half past ten, plenty tables were free.
Terri couldn't tear her eyes away from him, but replied. "Oliver Queen? Billionaire? His family's boat crashing, him being the only survivor, saved by some fish men who found him on a deserted island where he fought for his live for five years? Nothing? Jeez, woman. Oh my god, he's even hotter in person," she beamed, goofy smile on her lips.
Vera was shocked by the new information. Billionaire? Deserted island? Five years? The not-so-arrogant man was way more complicated than she had originally thought. And his attempt to comfort her about Matt coming back made suddenly much, much more sense.
She examined Terri, who was out of her mind and chuckled. "Terri, you're drooling."
Her friend snapped from her trance, blinking, getting herself together – just in time, because the group approached the counter. "I wasn't," she hissed at Vera and Vera had to bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.
Oliver Queen smiled at her brightly, eyes sparkling with intense blue that made her shiver for some reason. Both Terri and Vera had no task at the time, so it was clearly his choice to address Vera.
"Hello. So today it's for free?" he offered and Vera's smile widened just from being on the receiving end of his affection.
She was sure Terri was gaping at her. "Yes. I mean, it only costs a smile back, so…. Welcome to MDDC, what can I get you?"
Vera could see Terri was gaping at her, when she eyed her peripherally.
And it wasn't Oliver who answered. It was the woman.
"The latté yesterday? It was a real lifesaver. I mean, I know it's more like a killer because it contains tons of sugar, but I really, really needed that. Some arrogant frat boy was mean to me, thinking he can do my job better and I needed something to make my day. I mean, hearing his apology was like the most satisfying thing ever, but- anyway. Can I have that again? The caramel latté?" she babbled and Vera fell in love with her instantly, because maybe, just maybe there was a person who was for once even more awkward than her.
"Sure thing. Gentlemen?"
She thought she saw Terri pitch herself in her forearm.
"Two Americanos with two sugars each."
Oliver was barely containing laugh – he didn't seemed to be offended by the woman's addressing. In contrary, his gaze softened during her monologue – Vera could tell he was very fond of her if not in love with her.
Terri entered the order in the cashbox, demanding money – Oliver once again paid in cash, leaving a tip. They left to find a seat and both Vera and Terri started the preparation. Not until Terri smacked her arm.
"What the hell was that?" she hissed in Vera's direction, awe and outrage in her voice.
"Nothing," Vera murmured back and focused on her latté, ignoring Terri's huff.
Vera was surprised when she turned around and found Oliver waiting. Terri was taken aback too.
"Mr. Queen, can we help you with anything?" Terri asked him, innocent smile playing oh her lips.
Sure, Terri, way to be subtle. He didn't seem to be surprised she recognized him though.
He shook his head. "Not really. I can actually handle to deliver my own coffee to my table. May I?" He reached for it and Terri obediently (and absolutely baffled) handed it to him. He checked her nametag, frowning. He took a wild guess. "Theresa-"
"Terri!"
The corners of his lips twitched. "Terri, would you be so kind and got my friends their coffee?"
He discreetly beckoned to the latté in Vera's hands and Terri – bless her – didn't comment (not verbally, but the significant look she gave Vera spoke thousand words) and fulfilled his wish, taking the latté from Vera's hands and leaving them alone.
Vera had no idea what was happening. She cleared her throat. "So… I guess the apology went well."
"Yes. Yes. I actually wanted to thank you for yesterday. For the- the verbal apology did it, I think."
Vera felt her cheeks burning at the memory of her boldness – she had no idea she was talking to… well, whoever he was. Billionaire. Survivor.
"Glad to hear that. I'm sorry I was so forward-"
"No, you were right. Sometimes it's hard to admit that women can be beautiful, clever and skilful at the same time. My ego can't take such a hit easily," he exclaimed, glaring into her eyes and her heart jumped. It felt like he was talking about Vera. Which, weird.
"Uhm… so… you're in town for business?" she quickly changed the topic when she finally escaped the trap of his burning gaze.
He blinked. "Not anymore. We're leaving today."
"Oh. Went well?"
She wasn't exactly disappointed he was leaving – this man was strange influence. Good too, but strange.
He absently rubbed his thigh, silently hissing. "Yeah. Not exactly according to the plan, but at least I met some interesting people. Got help from unexpected places."
"Little help here?!" Caroline shouted from behind the counter and Vera realized they had left her alone there – Terri chatted with Diggle and the blonde and Vera lead an awkward conversation with Queen. But Caroline could have saved her breath – there were like three customers. It wasn't a life-death situation. Vera didn't really have a choice though.
"I'm sorry. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Queen."
"Oliver. And likewise… Nica? Or Vera?" he hesitated, checking her nametag and Vera made a decision that would probably sting her later.
"Vera."
Oliver offered her one more smile and followed his friends, which Terri took as her cue. She was hypnotizing Vera with incredulous look and Vera rather escaped to Caroline. It was all in vain – no more customers arrived and Caroline used her break, still pissed off they had left her alone.
Terri smacked her arm again.
"Wanna tell me how the hell did you pick up Oliver Queen?"
Vera made a face. "I did not pick him up or whatever."
"So what was the whole would you please leave us alone thing?"
"He didn't say that," she protested and Terri raised an eyebrow, challenging. "He just- we talked shortly yesterday, okay? And I think he overheard me talking to Foggy. I helped him to make up with his friend – or girlfriend? – and he ensured me Matt would come back."
Her expression softened. "Oh, honey. Who would think playboy billionaire has a heart. I think I'm falling in love," she sighed desirous and looked at him. He was still rubbing his leg. For some reason, it made Vera uneasy, something heavy falling in her stomach as she saw the woman mouthing 'You okay?' and frowning. He nodded and Diggle made a worried face as well.
What was it? Playboy billionaire was ill? Hurt?
"Is he ill or something?" Vera asked Terri before she could stop herself.
Terri sounded baffled. "No. I don't think so. At least the paper never mentioned anything. But it's not like I have access to Starling General."
"What?"
"They are from Starling City. It's- never mind. Why?"
Yeah, why? Why did Vera care?
"No reason. So you know a lot about him, huh? You realize you have a boyfriend, right?" Vera rather tried to distract her friend, being the one who's asking questions.
"I know. But have you seen him? He's like a freaking model. An underwear model. Can you imagine his arms when wearing a t-shirt and the rest when not wearing it? And that ass? Jeeez. I have goosebumps and… why is it so hot in here? And the eyes? I'm usually no sucker for eyes, but I know you are. And god, that voice…"
'I actually wanted to thank you for yesterday.'
Burning, intense blue eyes.
Survivor.
'Sometimes it's hard to admit that women can be beautiful, clever and skilful.'
('Went well?') 'Not exactly according to the plan, but at least I met some interesting people. Got help from unexpected places.'
Subconscious touch. 'You okay?' Worried looks.
Too many coincidences.
Vera was getting paranoid. Not everyone she had an interesting encounter in MDDC had a secret identity. Right?
"Starling City… it has a vigilante, right?" Vera had no idea where Starling City was and why that city would have one, but if she was right, for Oliver's sake, she had to pretend that-
Gentle touch on her forearm. "Vera… you have to stop torturing yourself. You can't keep looking for—ugh. Yes, it does. Did you do a research on every single person jumping over rooftops in US?" Terri's voice was honestly concerned and Vera felt bad for misleading her.
Vera hadn't done any research. But since Terri mentioned it… it actually wasn't such a bad idea. She might do it later.
"Just… what does he do, the vigilante? How does he fight? Who is he targeting?" Vera continued her questions, shamelessly pretending she believed the said vigilante might be Matt. It was ridiculous Matt would betray his city, he loved Hell's Kitchen (no matter how weird that was, considering), she was positive he wouldn't play Robin Hood, but maybe she should be looking for him instead of just waiting. Good point. For later.
Terri whined. "It's not him Vera. Unless he exchanged his fists for bow and arrows and the cute Pirate Roberts outfit for a green hood- you okay?"
What were the odds that a businessman from Starling City appeared at the same time as a masked archer, from Starling City as well, seemed to be injured in the same way and had so many similar features?
Jesus Christ, Vera apparently was a vigilante magnet. Maybe they were trying to tell her something? Maybe it really was time to stand up for others? Fight?
"Vera!" her friend's urgent voice snapped her back to reality. Vera literally shook off her thoughts.
"Sorry. Sorry. Zoned out for a minute. Oh, there are customers waiting…"
"Vera!"
- OTA (Oliver)
They were on their way back to Starling, thousands feet above the ground in Queens Consolidated private jet. Oliver's eyes were closing from time to time. He hadn't got much sleep last night – they had spent hours searching info on the Devil of Hell's Kitchen – even though they had done it before heading to New York, relieved they wouldn't crossed paths with him when they found out he hadn't been seen for a while (about two months to be precise) –, curious about the man and his presumed connection with Vera.
Felicity was a miracle worker and actually had found some security footage from a bank robbery, where not only the vigilante was fighting the robbers, but also Vera was present. Vera had also gone to court to testify against a cop who had been involved in her kidnaping and she had defended the Devil's name wholeheartedly when needed. That definitely confirmed Oliver's suspicion about their relationship.
The team had gone to their beds around half past two. Oliver had thought he could do just fine without painkillers – when he had been still awake an hour later, he had changed his mind.
So yes, he was a little tired and he had time to nap right now – he intended to use it.
"Oliver, you just got the weirdest e-mail ever," Felicity noted and he snapped his eyes open, startled.
She was on her tablet whole flight, IT girl with her body and soul. No matter how much she pretended to hate playing his secretary, sometimes she couldn't help herself and took it really seriously.
"What do you mean? Weird how?" He sat up straighter, weary muscles protesting, unpleasant tension in his thigh, and she turned around the tablet for him to see.
He squinted at the screen. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who sent it?"
"Veronika-Mech . Huh. Wait a second," she said, manipulating the tablet so they could both see. She was typing furiously, new windows opening so fast Oliver didn't follow. He needed to sleep more, dammit. And Felicity needed less sugar and less coffee in her life. "Aha!"
A photo of the barista appeared on the screen and Oliver froze. Felicity moved the picture on one side, e-mail appearing on the other half of the screen.
Thanks for the hug. I needed it. Hope you're okay.
His heart skipped a beat. "Shit."
"Wanna tell me when you managed to hug this one?" Diggle's amused voice sounded from behind him as he read over his shoulder, mocking him.
Oliver was the opposite of amused. He leaned back to his seat heavily, hand running down his face, covering his mouth to stop other curses coming from it.
"Oh-oh. Oliver, I don't like it. I don't like the face you're making," Felicity anticipated, inclining in his direction.
He had no idea what to say. She had recognized him. How the fuck had she recognized him? He had been hidden under the hood, wearing his mask, the voice disguiser on. What the hell?!
"Oliver?" Dig sounded worried.
The vigilante sighed. "You know how I told you she was pretty much calm while stitching me up? She cried afterwards. What was I supposed to do? "
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. Are you telling me you hugged her and you had a little heart-to-heart? Oliver are you crazy? You're all 'no one can know my secret' and then you just spill it?" Felicity's voice was righteously outraged and panicked.
"I didn't tell her, dammit!"
"So she figured it out?! Oliver, this is serious, what if she's gonna tell someone? What if she's gonna sell it to the press?" Diggle's scary figure stood between his and Felicity's seat, arms folded.
Oliver shot him an irritated look – 'well thank you, I wouldn't think of it if it wasn't for you' - suddenly wide awake, feeling small under his friend's strict eyes.
"I know, Dig. What am I supposed to do about it though? We're coming back, giving her a talk? Scaring the shit out of her after she helped me? Bribing her to keep her mouth shut? Ignoring it so she thinks she's wrong?"
Felicity frowned while still working on the tablet. "I like the ignoring. Or I can hack her e-mail. Facebook account. Bank account. Oh, she dropped out of med school, that makes sense... "
"Yeah, sure, let's just do that. And be surprised when one day Lance will come for you, arresting you for… everything."
"You got any better idea?" Felicity complained, offended.
Oliver's mind was racing. He didn't necessarily think she would tell his secret to anyone. She was skilled in keeping a secret identity. And she seemed harmless, kind even, caring, sensitive. Maybe this wasn't blackmailing. She could be simply thanking him, expressing her worries about him; no matter how insane that would be. But then again, she probably dated a guy who jumped around in a black mask playing ninja. Certain level of insanity was required.
"Oliver? Penny for your thoughts?" Diggle's voice snapped him back to reality and Oliver shook his head.
"I don't think we should react at all. She won't tell anyone."
Felicity opened her mouth and closed it again without any sound coming out, her face screaming pure shock.
Dig sounded curious, thoughtful. "You genuinely believe that."
Oliver shrugged. "It's just a feeling. What kind of an impression did she give you? Dangerous? Calculating? Greedy? She was nice, maybe a little pert, but willing to help. At the end, all she wanted from me when I stumbled to her living room demanding a phone call – a complete stranger hiding his face, armed – was to make sure I wouldn't hurt her and that was after she lent me her phone. She accepted the fact I didn't tell her my name or what I was doing there and she offered her help. Patched me up. I… I think we can trust her."
"Did she drug you? Since when do you just trust people? And what you said only points in one direction – she's insane and unpredictable."
"Hey! Helping a bleeding hooded guy doesn't make her insane!" Felicity defended the girl, remembering her own experience – finding her bleeding boss on the backseat of her car, bringing him to Diggle and saving his life.
Dig threw his hands in the air. "Seriously? So we're not doing anything about the fact there is a young woman who knows you secret running around New York?"
"Well, we have her phone number. Wanna call her? Or you could text her, you know…"
Oliver considered her offer once again. "Dig?"
"I'm not saying a word. It's your life, Oliver, mess it up all you want."
"Fine. I'll text her when we land."
"Please. I'm offended. You can do it now. And I'm up for a call." Felicity handed him her phone, the voice disguiser on – pretty much useless at the point.
She picked up after first ring.
"Miss Machackova?"
"Who… who is this? What do you want?" Her voice sounded honestly scared – it only occurred to Oliver she might thought it had something to do with her boyfriend, since a withheld number was calling her. He felt sorry for her.
"I just wanted to thank you for your help yesterday evening."
"…Oh." And here it came, her disappointment. "Of course. You're welcome. How is your leg doing?"
Felicity and Dig, both hearing the conversation, raised an eyebrow simultaneously, Dig mouthing 'Is she for real?' in disbelief.
'Told you we can trust her' Oliver mouthed back. "Been better. Doesn't change the fact it could have been worse if there wasn't for you. I have a question."
Sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Then: "I won't tell anyone. I swear."
Oliver smiled despite his efforts not to. "I would appreciate that. But that's what I thought. You do have experience with keeping a secret after all, don't you?"
Dig nodded in satisfaction, content Oliver let her know they had a leverage if needed – not that they knew the identity of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, but Felicity sure would do some of her magic and got at least very close, probably even revealing his identity in no time.
There was a beat of silence. She apparently didn't know how to react. "Everyone has their secrets. I can respect that. It's a common human decency," she replied diplomatically. She was good.
"Sure. I can do the same. Thank you for your help – I hope it won't be needed ever again." And he honestly did.
"That makes at least two of us. Send my regards to your bodyguard and IT – and don't forget to remind them they are remarkable often enough, because they sure are. If you ever need anything, my window is always open… and my door as well. Goodbye," she sounded genuine and ended the call. Oliver grinned at her note.
"That went well," Felicity said, smug smile on her lips. She decided she liked her, Oliver could tell.
Dig didn't seem to agree, but didn't comment. They could only hope she would keep her promise.
- Vera
It was a week after Vera's most recent face-to-face-hero-meeting, her crazy idea to e-mail Oliver Freaking Queen and their surreal conversation, when a delivery boy appeared at her doorstep. Considering all recent events and the frequency she got into trouble with, she was slightly afraid and reluctant to accept the package – for all she knew, someone (namely Fisk's minions, and Vera hated Sergeant Mahoney for not keeping his theories for himself) could send her a bomb, because that was just her luck. Seeing Queens Consolidated logo, she changed her mind. The package was sent by Felicity Smoak, the assistant of the CEO. So Vera accepted, seating herself on the couch, box in her lap.
First thing she saw when opening the package was a bottle of red wine – expensive, she suspected, but it was hard to tell since she wasn't a wine drinker (until recently, she wasn't any kind of a drinker). There was a note stuck to it.
To remarkable women, because we need to stick together. F.
Vera smiled, realizing it must have been from the IT girl/assistant/friend/girlfriend. She probably was a wine drinker and wasted a high-quality wine on Vera. Vera decided she would suffer through this one bottle with Terri. She did it before after all.
Then there was an envelope and a smaller box, both with notes as well. She picked up the box first.
To those who are not afraid to stand up for the right thing and help people in need. F.
Vera curiously opened the box and gasped when seeing its content. It was an arrow head – elegant design (even though she doubted that was its purpose, to look pretty), probably custom-made, perfectly sharp, as she could feel when touching the tip, cutting her skin. It occurred to her she was really grateful Oliver hadn't put one of these in her. She carefully put it away and reached for the last item.
To those who never stop believing. Keep on hoping. F.
Vera had no idea what could be in the envelope – but then again, she didn't expected any of this. She cautiously pulled the paper out. And her heart skipped a beat before painfully trying to fight its way out of her chest.
It was a series of photos, dark, taken at night. Blurry as if they came from a low-quality security camera, with timestamps few days old. But the pictures were unmistakable. Vera eyed the corner of the paper with added notes:
Phnom Kravanh, Cambodia
Search based on body built and fighting style. -
And it was him. Dark red (or at least she though so) tight outfit, mask covering his whole face, but Vera knew. He was caught in several different positions – including one in which he was hovering in the air, upside down – among several bodies on the ground. She recognized the man who trained him by his side in the same clothes, not bothering hiding his face, together with few others.
Vera wanted to cry, suffocating and suddenly being able to breathe at the same time. She ran her fingers over the photos.
Matt might not be coming home now, but he was alive. She only saw one motivation in Matt hiding his identity – he didn't want to give up to his life and intended to come back. Was he still himself? She couldn't quite tell. There were so many bodies on the ground, lying in the puddle of blood. Some of them… decapitated. But Matt didn't have a sword (or katana or whatever) like the others from his group (except one more man whose face she couldn't see, because he was somehow always showing only his back). She had to hope.
Vera stared at the pictures despite the fact they made her hair stood on its ends and she was sure they would bring her new nightmares. It took her a while to realize that the arrow behind the note referred to the other side of the paper. She turned it over.
P.S. If the footage is anything to go by, he never took anyone's life.
Vera laughed and let the tears of delight stroll down her face.
Got to keep on hoping
Keep on hoping
It all feels broken
Got to keep your hope alive
Got to keep on hoping
Keep on hoping
When it all feels broken
You know I'll stick around, hey
Keep on hoping