The whole conversation via texts is in Czech, but I didn't want to underline it, the graphics would be terrible.

-.-.-.-

2. The therapist

…aka big brother is watching you. Vera's POV.

She was sitting at the computers, swinging in the comfortable chair, thinking about everything (namely Matt, what Felicity had said, what she had done) and nothing (like trying to avoid thinking about what the hell she should do next). In a way, she was bored. It was good, not have to answer to anyone, not have to pretend she was fine, but… the thoughts became too much and being alone with them… she wished to switch her brain off.

She almost fell off the chair when her phone beeped with an incoming message – not a normal text, but via her app. Which was strange, because the only people who communicated with her like this were her family and friends from Czechia.

Peťula (3:58):
Hey!

Vera stared at the screen, surprised. Petr had been texting her from time to time, more often after their visit and the revelation of Matt's— ouch, extracurricular activities, but still… maybe she was getting paranoid, but she immediately assumed something had happened.

Me (3:59):
Hey. Is everything okay?

Peťula (3:59):
Can't an older brother text his little sister without being suspicious? How you're doing?

It was extremely suspicious, especially since he asked like that. She bit her lip. She definitely wasn't ready to share how she was doing.

Me (4:00):
Not really. And I'm fine.

Peťula (4:00):
You don't sound fine. Are you really?

Even more suspicious. What the hell? It was like he was sure something had happened. She decided she might mask it with a little sarcasm. That usually worked.

Me (4:01):
We're sending texts via an app. If I sound like something, it's Siri's fault. Why wouldn't I be fine?

Peťula (4:02):
Call it twin telepathy.

Me (4:02):
We're not twins.

Peťula (4:02):
Well, just a hunch then.

Me (4:03):
Still suspicious.

A hunch. That could have actually been the only way of knowing she wasn't alright, right? How else would he— son of a bitch. Unless, he kept an eye on her as he had brilliantly mentioned; 'Do you really think I haven't been keeping tabs on my little sister?' The news. How much could be found on the internet about what had happened?

Me (4:03):
You have a Google alert on me or what?

Peťula (4:04):
It's a little more complicated than a Google alert, okay?

Peťula (4:04)
But yeah, basically. And have it on you? Yes, that too, but… on Matt and his other self mostly.

Peťula (4:04):
Eleven million? Sweet. The blown up building? Not so much.

Well. She couldn't argue with that one. Of course Daredevil had been seen on the scene at some point. Of course Petr would know. Was that why he was texting? To know if Matt was okay? Honestly, she had no idea. The last time she saw him, he seemed healthy enough. How was he now? Hell if she knew. She only found like the few missed calls from him, either from his own phone or from the burner. She didn't call back to either of them. She wouldn't know what to say. She didn't want to talk to him. Was he hurt beyond what she had seen?

Back on track. Petr was on the line.

Me (4:06):
He's alive. Not seriously hurt even.

Peťula (4:06):
I'm not worried about him.

Well. That made more sense.

Me (4:07):
I wasn't hurt either.

Except for few bruises. And maybe a little concussion. And broken heart. Twice. Or three times.

Peťula (4:08):
It looks like he's almost died, so somehow I doubt that. I'm not only talking broken bones and stuff.

Me (4:08):
I'm fine.

Peťula (4:08):
Try again.

Me (4:09):
He's out there every night, sticking his neck out. This wasn't any different.

Lie, lie, lie. This was way different, everything had changed, he hadn't stuck his neck out, he had laid it under the blade of a freaking guillotine, willingly, doing a grand gesture for his former lover, for his love. Vera felt the icy shiver running down her spine, nausea building in her stomach. She wanted to puke. And cry. And hit something. She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the received text for a while, getting her shit together. She was tempted to just turn her phone off and bury herself in the covers of her new bed.

Peťula (4:09):
This was something more, Mechy-girl. I can tell. How are you doing?

The only worse question her brother could have asked was 'Are you okay.' She had no idea how to respond.

Me (4:13):
Staying at friend's.

Peťula (4:13):
Terri's?

She could have just said yes and she would be off the hook probably, he would let her be and she could continue her pity party. She didn't. Maybe she was a masochist. Maybe she needed to talk about it, but without facing the person she would talk to…

Me (4:14):
Not exactly.

Peťula (4:14):
Are you in Starling City?

Vera stared at the words, unable to form her own. What? What. The. Actual. Hell? How could he possibly know that?!

Peťula (4:14):
With the other costumed guy. Bow and arrows? Really?

She went to defensive mood immediately. Oliver was an amazing guy, a hero and a saint.

Me (4:15):
He saved Matt's life.

Peťula (4:15):
Fair. So you're staying with him.

Me (4:17):
Yes.

She considered denying it. But why lie? It wasn't like Petr would tell any— oh crap.

Me (4:17):
Don't tell Matt if he contacts you.

Peťula (4:17):
HE DOESN'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?!

Vera looked up from the angry letters. Well. About that.

Me (4:18):
...no.

Peťula (4:18):
What the actual hell, Verčo?

Me (4:19):
He's not my guard dog, Petře.

Peťula (4:19):
What does that mean? He's probably scared shitless.

Vera had no idea and she frankly didn't want to have one. Maybe he was. Maybe he was not. Maybe he was sad she left. Maybe he was pissed at her, beating the shit out of the bags at Fogwell's, or out of someone on the streets. Maybe he was grieving for someone else. Maybe he was a messy bundle of emotions he couldn't quite name, just like her. Maybe, maybe…

Peťula (4:20):
He knows you're okay at least, right?

Petr was missing the point here. Not that Vera blamed him, he couldn't have known what had happened, what Matt had done, what she had done…

Me (4:21):
It's none of his concern anymore.

Peťula (4:21):
Bull-SHIT. Tell me what happened.

Too much, Mechy. Too fucking much. She wrote a response, instantly deleting it before sending it. Another one, same result. And another. She settled for the easiest one.

Me (4:24):
We called off the engagement. ...sort of.

Peťula (4:24):
YOU WHAT?!

Peťula (4:24):
Give me his number.

Vera blinked, half in surprise, half to chase away the tears. Seeing her own line, seeing it written, that they had called off the engagement, she had, because Matt didn't love her, Matt didn't want to be with her, he had chosen another woman to die with, to die for, she just— why on Earth she would give away Matt's number to Petr? So he could tell him where she was? Petr didn't know half of what happened. Was he taking his side?

Me (4:25):
No chance in hell.

Peťula (4:25):
What has he done? He promised that if he ever hurts you, he'll come to me so I could break him something. For dumping you, I'll break his EVERYTHING. Like what the hell?!

Oh. So that was a no to taking Matt's side. Vera wasn't even ashamed of feeling a little satisfaction, no matter what mess her emotions were. Because calling off the engagement broke her heart, because she just wanted to crawl back to Matt's arms anyway. Because she was clearly an idiot. It was nice to have some support for the anger side.

Me (4:26):
... it was me.

Peťula (4:26):
I'm sorry, WHAT? Explain, please.

Me (4:28):
He almost died, Petře. He voluntarily stayed in a building which was about to collapse with zombie his ninja ex. So yeah, I freaked out a little, packed my stuff and left the ring behind.

Peťula (4:28):
...I'm really confused.

Me (4:29):
Don't ask.

Peťula (4:29):
And I'm really sorry, but you need to give me his number, so I can have a shout match with him and then you need to give the exact address so I can punch him to his face.

Peťula (4:30):
With a crowbar.

Peťula (4:30):
Repeatedly.

It was a terrible image, but she let out a small laugh. Her big protective brother. God, she loved him. She loved him so much. An indescribable longing for his loving hug hit her like a truck. How much was an immediate ticket to Prague? She chuckled through her tears.

Me (4:30):
Not happening. But thanks.

Peťula (4:31):
Well, he's a jackass, he deserves it. You know what? Forget about him being worried. Screw him. If you want to, just give me some contact and I'll text him angrily asking him what he has done to you that you appeared on my doorstep in the middle of the night.

Me (4:32):
That's kinda mean, I think?

Peťula (4:32):
I know. That's the point. I trusted him, Verčo. He seemed love-struck.

And that hurt. Among all the things Vera was feeling, so many things that were too hard to categorize, confusion was one of them. Everything had been fine. Perfect even. They had been so happy. Passionate kisses, endless nights, unshakeable trust and support – how had it gone to shit so fast? Had it all been just pretended, was she really just an option two for him? She had had no doubt Matt had loved her with all his heart, he had proposed for god's sake-

Peťula (4:33):
He was crazy about you. That guy would breathe for you.

Yeah, she had thought so. Where had it gone wrong?

Me (4:35):
And die for another.

Peťula (4:35):
He did seem to be a rather dramatic type.

Me (4:35):
Understatement.

Peťula (4:36):
Exactly. Now, I'm NOT taking his side, but there has to be more to what you told me.

The upper part of her displayed lighted up in violet. An incoming call. She wanted to hang up automatically, but she froze when seeing the name. Brett read the screen. Jesus. Shit. That couldn't be good, right? She quickly shot her brother another text before accepting the call.

Me (4:36):
Hold on a sec.

"Brett?" she said, utterly shocked.

Matt wouldn't like… alert the police or something, right? That would be ridiculous. And even if he had, Brett wouldn't try to call her...? And Matt wasn't stupid enough to get caught in his armour, right?

"Hey! You okay? You sound pretty on edge. Should I call later?" Brett's voice sounded genuinely concerned and Vera sighed in relief. Of course she was not reported as a missing person or something. And no matter how much she was telling herself she wasn't also relieved Brett didn't seem to call because of finding Daredevil in a puddle of blood somewhere… well, she was, okay? For the sake of the New York City citizens.

Yeah, she was a terrible liar.

"No. Now is fine. What's going on?"

"Could you come down to the precinct and fill in some more blanks? Only about what had happened in the building. It doesn't have to be right now."

Well. She really couldn't come down. What blanks did they want to fill in anyway? Knight was there, for god's sake. And they had given their testimonies… mostly true ones? Vera couldn't remember what she had said to the police.

"That… might be a problem," Vera admitted hesitantly.

"Why?"

"I'm staying with my friend."

"Oh, that's okay," he assured her, the worried note in his voice disappearing. "You can come down tomorrow or something. You're with Gratton?"

"Yeah… no. Why does everyone assume she's the only friend I have?"

"Well… I just believe you know better than staying with Walker or, god forbid, Jones. And Temple didn't seem like an option."

"Fair… I'm not in the city, Brett."

Short silence followed. "Oh. So you're with the green guy?"

Vera's lips twitched deliberately. "No, I'm not with the Hulk."

"Hilarious. I mean the one with bow and arrows who showed up out of nowhere, together with the red one. You have weird friends, Machackova."

"Thanks. You realize you're one of them, right?" she offered with a small smile, pushing the idea of Matt eavesdropping on the call and learning where she was to the back of her mind. Even if he was, who said he was coming? Or that she, in the darkest corner of her heart, didn't want him to? Just a little?

"Right. So I take it you won't be in town for few days at least?"

"Pretty much." Or longer. Or ever. "Can we do it over the phone?"

"Nah, it can wait. Have a good time. Sorry for bothering."

Vera couldn't help but smiling a little wider.

"Brett, you know you never bother. I owe you more than one."

"See, that's where you are wrong. At some annual meeting and briefing or whatever, the police department of New York City decided to give me some award. For the Worshippers business. And a promotion."

"Really?" Vera blurted out, astonished. That was new. And amazing. "That's great, Brett! You deserve nothing less."

"So do you."

"Nah. I just went along. Congratulation."

"Not yet. It comes with some freaky social event. I'm gonna have to get a tux."

"Aww, poor you," she pitied him mockingly, imagining his annoyed face. Brett would have a cute annoyed face.

"Sure, make fun of a guy. I'm hanging up now. Give me a call or drop by when you're back, okay?"

"Of course. Have a nice day, Brett," she said before hanging up on the man.

Well. Back to the gloomy business. Back to analysing Matt's betrayal. And her escape.

Peťula (4:36):
Holding.

Me (4:42):
Sorry. A cop called.

Peťula (4:42):
You don't sound half as concerned at the fact as you should.

Me (4:43):
We've been over this. I don't sound at all. And he's a friend.

Peťula (4:43):
I'm not even asking.

The corner of her lips quirked. That was probably for the best.

Me (4:43):
Good. I had an eventful year, I kept bumping into him and sort of a friendship happened.

Peťula (4:44):
THAT'S an understatement. Whatever. What happens now?

That question caught her off guard. She wasn't even done with truly accepting what had happened, still hoping it was just an awful everlasting nightmare. She hadn't thought of a plan beyond her escape.

Me (4:45):
Dunno.

Peťula (4:45):
I'm still waiting for more info.

Me(4:46):
I don't know what to tell you.

Peťula (4:46):
...you DO have more info, right?

Define more info, Mechy. What did she know? She knew she was pissed and sad and confused and heart-broken and panicked and didn't want to think about anything and— and she had no clue what had happened, apart from Matt's Messiah's tendencies to bring salvation to everyone and to love everyone had showed and his ex was on the top of the list of loved ones apparently… or something like that.

Me (4:47):
I guess?

Peťula (4:47):
You know what happened, right? You talked about it? Possibly loudly?

Me (4:47):
…Not really?

Peťula (4:47):
Oh, Mechy-girl...

Me (4:48):
What is there to talk about? It seems pretty straightforward.

Peťula (4:48):
Once again, NOT taking his side, there's no excuse for what he has done, but you should hear him out. So you could figure it out together, work on it.

"Maybe I don't want to," she snarled, tears stinging in her eyes again, her grip on the phone tightening.

She didn't want to think about it, not really talk about it, what was there to talk about?! She deserved an explanation, but was there any explanation needed? What he had done was sending a clear message. She didn't matter. Not as much as she would wish, not as much as he had been claiming. And that hurt. She didn't like being hurt.

It was just like David all over again, all loving and plans to the future until someone else had come, until he decided he could do better— okay, she didn't know if and how a zombie ex was better, but apparently, Vera was setting a very low standard. And that fucking hurt. Being lied to hurt. Betrayal hurt.

Me (4:50):
Maybe I don't WANT TO.

Peťula (4:50):
I can't hear your heartbeat and I still can tell that's a lie.

Peťula (4:50):
He wasn't the only one smitten.

Oh, go to hell! As if she wasn't aware of her own feelings!

Peťula (4:51):
Talk to him, Mechy-girl. Take your time, let the justified anger out so you have clearer head and then you can throw the ring to his face for all I care. But don't give up just yet.

She took a deep calming breath. Petr wasn't the one she was truly angry with. And she couldn't deny he had a point. Clear head was the last thing she had right now. But this was also about her heart. She reread the message several times, thinking about a response rather than about how the potential conversation with Matt somewhere in the foreseeable future could go. Talk to him. Don't give up just yet.

Me (4:55):
I can't believe you're supporting my relationship with a guy with whom my life is in danger on daily basis.

Peťula (4:55):
Me neither. But I rather you to be happy and in danger, living your life to the fullest. I know there are tons of guys who could be better for you. But you've chosen him and I've never seen you shine so bright like when you came here with him.

Peťula (4:56):
So, talk to him.

Peťula (4:56):
And don't do anything stupid in the meanwhile, okay?

She huffed out a laugh. It was a weird sound, only half humorous, but it was a laugh. And she was a little offended.

Me (4:56):
Oh come on.

Peťula (4:57):
I mean it! You're in a secret lair with a masked dude, running around 'his' city, playing a vigilante. I know how you're with those types.

Okay, offended a lot.

Me (4:57):
Ew, Petře! I just broke up with my fiancée. Plus, he has a girlfriend.

Peťula (4:57):
... I was referring to the fact you might want to run into danger. But good to know, I guess.

…oh.

Peťula (4:57):
So he's hot.

Me (4:58):
I'm logging out now, so I can ask him to put an arrow in me without painting the screens I'm sitting at with my blood.

Peťula (4:58):
Please don't joke about that.

Well, given her history in US, she had to admit that this kind of a joke was more than inappropriate.

Me (4:58):
Sorry.

Peťula (4:59):
But he's hot.

Peťula (5:00):
?

Me (5:01):
What are you, thirteen? Yes, he has a nice smile and he's parkouring over rooftops, shooting arrows. Of course he's hot. And his friend is kinda cute. Satisfied?

Peťula (5:01):
Yep. I was wondering if you're gonna mention the red guy.

Vera rolled her eyes at that. Of course Petr knew about Roy as well.

Peťula (5:01):
Love you. Sending a long hug.

Me (5:02):
Love you too. And thanks, I appreciate the hug a lot.

Peťula (5:02):
I know. I can give you a real one if you decide to come and possibly stay, but for god's sake, talk to Matt first.

Me (5:02):
Yes, mum, I heard you the first time and the second time.

Peťula (5:03):
Don't be a brat.

Peťula (5:03):
And take care of yourself.

Me (5:03):
You too. Say hello to Lenka from me.

Peťula (5:03):
She says thanks. Bye, Mechy-girl.

Me (5:04):
Bye.

She put the phone down, leaning onto the backrest of the comfy chair, closing her eyes with a sigh.

'Talk to him.' That was easier said than done. It would mean calling him and hearing his voice without bursting into tears. Or seeing him – same problem. And she would probably yell at him, which kinda would be his problem, not hers, but— yeah, there was no way she was ready to talk to him, even when she craved for a freaking explanation. The problem was, as much as she thought she deserved one, she was also terrified of hearing it. Like this, she could only fantasize. Hearing Matt saying 'sorry, I just love her more than you' , possibly 'can we stay friends' followed by 'if not for anything than for your stitching up skills', god forbid 'please stay with me now, I can't have her and I need someone' that was not something she could do. Maybe he would even add 'I didn't want to hurt you', because this was Matt she was thinking about and there was a thick possibility he really hadn't want that, because he had many flaws, but he wouldn't break anybody's heart on purpose.

She squeezed her eyes tighter as she felt fresh tears gathering in them. Goddammit shit.

"Are you okay?" sounded a voice above her and she yelped, this time tripping the chair over for real. She didn't fall only because Oliver caught it before it hit on the ground, her included.

"Ježišmarja! What is wrong with you people?!" she demanded, emphasizing each word, staring at Oliver's apologizing face, his hands still on the back of the chair and on the seat as he returned it to its original position.

"Sorry. I take it this isn't the first time you almost got a heart attack this way."

She tried to slow down her alarmingly quickly beating heart, taking a deep breath. "No. It's not. I don't know what's up with this… sneaking up on someone."

Oliver let go, shrugging. "Well, it makes it easier to beat our enemies. The element of surprise is a huge advantage," he explained lightly.

"Yeah, I kinda get that. But do I look like an enemy?"

"Of course not. It's a force of a habit. If it makes it better, Felicity threatens to get me a bell too."

"Can't say I blame her. This can't be healthy."

"Point taken," he noted with a kind smile. "How you're holding up?"

She huffed. It was her turn to shrug. There wasn't much to tell. "I'm holding. Not sure about the 'up' part. I just talked to my brother— well, wrote and read anyway. It was kinda nice."

"You have a brother?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised. She would almost believe him.

"If I didn't have the pleasure with Felicity Smoak, I might even believe your surprise and curiosity."

Oliver grimaced. "Fair. But it's a little different, hearing it from you."

"I guess…. Yeah, I have a brother."

"Oh. Older or younger?"

"Older. He's my big brother. Literally. In every sense including the capital B's, since he apparently has a Google alert on me or something. ... I blame my lust for bear hugs on him."

"That's nice. Felicity sends these," he gestured towards a sports-bag few steps over. "Anything I can do for you?"

Vera honestly didn't know if she should be annoyed or touched.

"Oliver, I'm chilling at your secret base and you brought me clothes. I'm pretty sure that's... a lot, already."

"I'm offering. Anything you need?"

"No, thank you," she replied with a smile, rising from her chair – wow, possessive much, Macháčková? –, moving to her bed to make space for him. "I'm just gonna… keep chilling, I guess. Taking headphones, so be loud if you need anything."

"Gotcha."

People tent to do weird things. Putting fries into their milkshake. Drinking pumpkin spiced lattés. Fighting over nothing. Singing in the shower even when their neighbour is clearly hearing them. Listening to songs over and over. Better yet, listening to sad songs when being sad.

Vera was lying flat on her back, almost dozing off, playing Flares on repeat. It wasn't a sad song, per se, there was hope in it. Maybe that was the reason why she was listening to this one in particular. The talk with Petr had cracked her conviction, poured a little grey into the black and white viewing. Did she know enough about what had happened?

She sighed and opened her eyes, checking on Oliver – he was still sitting behind the computers, clearly working, but not too busy. This was a terrible idea.

Was it?

She massaged the bridge of her nose, sitting up and pulling the headphones out. She would be perfectly fine postponing the question to later or never, but… goddammit, Mechy.

"Oliver?" she called out hesitantly, his eyes immediately finding her instead of staring at the screen.

"Yeah?"

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replied, giving the impression of meaning it. Of course he meant it. He was the good Samaritan, he would do anything.

Vera shook of the thought, rising to her feet, slowly walking to him. His gaze followed her curiously.

"I... what exactly happened?"

She didn't have to explain further, Oliver understood what she was asking; though he did look puzzled.

"You don't know?"

"I… I think I know less than I should," Vera admitted hesitantly.

"Well, what did Matt tell you?" Oliver asked with a frown, the confusion not quite leaving his face.

Vera licked her lips, looking away. "...not… not much." I didn't give him much space to talk.

Silence fell for several moments. Vera gulped, afraid of seeing his expression, suddenly feeling ashamed for her abrupt escape.

"Oh. That... makes much more sense. Okay. I can do that."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Notes:
Not sure the second chapter made it better… but Mechy/Petr/Peťula had his bit! …yay?

The song Vera is listening over and over – Flares by The Script.