IX.

Take me to your secret garden
Walk me back through time we've lost
Shake in blood, and I'll tell no one
That the river can be crossed…

Snow Ghosts – Secret Garden

"Were you dreaming?" Vera asked him, keeping her voice pleasantly low for his ears; loud enough for him to hear it, just the right amount of quiet so he needed to focus a little, his focus point while he tried to muffle everything else.

She was lying in his bed now, the tiny space, curled to his side, pressed very tightly, so she wouldn't fall – there was nothing else he could wish for. He kept playing with her hair, perfectly content – Claire didn't bother with giving him another i.v. since he didn't want any painkillers apart from aspirin and he promised her to drink enough. Putting aside the environment they were in and the circumstances, it would be paradise.

And it just shattered. With one simple question: Were you dreaming?

'You don't remember?'

'Who the hell is Vera?'

'You quitted after taking down Fisk.'

'Matt… that's Vicki. She's been working here for… six months give or take? I didn't think she was your type. Blond? Too much makeup? Spiritual?'

'Back in the land of mortals, Devil?'

'Did you hear me scream? The Devil, coming to the rescue to anyone who cries for help loud enough. Guess I wasn't screaming that loud. And then I couldn't scream at all.'

'Do you know who Gaia is? Not much of a reader, huh? She was born without the gene of fear. She was unbreakable. I am too. I'm already broken. Did your fancy hearing and who knows what catch that?'

'If you ever bother my friend or me, I'll end you.'

'You want to go out playing hero again? I won't stop you. But don't you think for a second that I'm gonna play your damsel in distress, Matthew.'

'You don't know shit about me. I don't need you to save me.'

"Matt?"

A gentle stroke on his chest. He blinked his eyes open, realizing he had squeezed them shut. He slowly made his hands relax too, releasing the sheets and her tee.

"No. No, I wasn't."

Matt would swear he heard her frown. Her hand was resting above his heart – she knew he was lying.

"Okay. But… if you ever remembered or something… you can always tell me. If you wanted to. Just… just wanted to let you know."

Vera knew he was lying and she let it slide. He sighed.

"I wasn't… I wasn't dreaming. I was in purgatory," he said eventually, probably rising more questions than he answered. Judging by her heart rate, definitely. She kissed his throat, the closest place to her lips.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled to his skin, not pressing further, leaving him with an option.

Dammit, Vera.

"You weren't there. I… it was some kind of a… could be world. And you… you weren't there. Not as you anyway."

'You don't know shit about me.'

"Oh."

Her breath hitched in anticipation. He shouldn't have even started. Now it would bug her if he didn't finish. He sighed again.

"I woke up in a hospital after a car accident. They thought I was suffering from amnesia, because I didn't remember… things. I did remember them, just differently. I remembered them real, but apparently that wasn't what happened."

"I'm… a little confused," she admitted, shifting in her position slightly, possibly tugging closer to him, raising her face to his to she could study his expressions. Yeah, he wasn't sure he wanted that.

"I remembered you. Everything what had happened. But in that world, it hadn't. I… uhm. I apparently dated another woman, I met her when helping her mother – legally way."

"You dream-cheated on me?" Vera asked him with hints of amusement and fake horror in her voice, but for Matt honestly – it was horror. He really tried to appreciate her attempt to light up the mood, but he kinda didn't.

"Yeah. Sort of. Don't worry, we broke up fast. But… there was more. I quitted. After taking down Fisk."

"Nelson and Murdock?"

Matt pressed his lips together tightly, shaking his head, wishing to say yes. That would be an interesting alternative reality, but he wasn't exactly eager to fall into another coma just to find out.

"No. The other thing."

Vera tensed. She stayed quiet, but she was biting her lip as if she wanted to say something. 'Back in the land of mortals, Devil?'

Matt waited for almost a minute and continued only after she hadn't say a word – perhaps she didn't know what to say. Honestly, he had no words too. Especially since he knew the consequences.

"Everything was wrong. I dated a woman I didn't know and had no idea how we could actually ever get together. Nelson and Murdock kept going, with Karen and everything and the three months I was with Stick, I was supposedly in a coma. I remembered you, I remembered us and you weren't there. Foggy thought I was crazy. He had the cup, the one with the rhyme, but you just weren't there. Until you were."

Her heartbeat was loud in his ears. Her skin burned too hot, started sweating. She was afraid. Matt gulped, well-aware she had a reason.

"You were working at Josie's. Went by Vicki. You wore tons of makeup and a wig. Foggy said it was blond, but hell if I knew."

Vera pressed her lips together. He thought it was just tension she didn't know how to release – but then her body shook with silenced laughter.

She was laughing.

Matt felt his own body going absolutely rigid.

"Okay, I get that must have been awful. Josie's. Blond wig. Wow."

He clenched his fists, setting his jaw tight. "There was nothing funny about that," he strained through his teeth, his ears ringing.

'You don't know shit about me.'

And there must have been something – in his tone, in his posture, in his expression – that made her stop laughing instantly. Vera took a deep breath, reaching for one of his fists, stroking the back of his hand lightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Matt," she apologized in a thick voice, caressing his hand again. His muscles relaxed. The Vera he knew. He pressed his lips to her hair, inhaling deeply.

"You were different. She was different," he whispered weakly, the world spinning at the memory. 'What do you care anyway?' 'I'm already broken, did your fancy hearing catch that?' "And it was my fault."

Her shoulders fell, her head – turned to his – banged on his chest. "That sounds awfully familiar-"

"You don't get it!" he snarled, regretting it instantly as she stiffened, her pulse spiking. "I… I had met you in the café, you started working there. That was why Foggy had his cup. But… do you remember our second meeting? Of any of our meetings?" Disguised or not.

Vera slowly relaxed against his side again, giving him another apologizing kiss. Her lips were magic. And her cheeks flushed at the memory. "The mugging. I… I tossed you a snack after you saved me from getting mugged."

Something squeezed his chest in a vice. And it had nothing to do with the damage which had been made to his ribcage. "Possibly worse. Yeah. But I hung up the mask after the Fisk's case."

Matt didn't want to say it. Jesus, he did not want to say it. But would it really be less terrible if Vera would?

"…you never saved me."

"No."

Heavy silence fell, disrupted only by their breaths. Matt was afraid of breathing. He waited for her to snap. To yell at him, or the other him, which meant yelling at him, because it wasn't like the other him was anywhere in her radius.

Vera surprised him. Well, technically, she didn't. But it always surprised him how… how much forgiveness this Verahad. Then again, she hadn't been— she hadn't-

"Okay. How does that make me working at Josie's and being kind of a hooker your fault? So I got mugged-"

"-possibly worse," Matt repeated, clenching his jaw once more. How could he had. Been. So. Stupid.

"Oh," she let out in realization, just a small startled yelp. "That's… oh. Shit."

"There was another vigilante in town as I discovered later. Naturally, me being me me, I followed her." Basically.

Vera blinked in surprise. "Her? There was a female vigilante? That's kinda cool."

Matt closed his eyes shut at her excitement, the lump in his throat growing, the vice squeezing him tighter. "Yeah, not so much."

"Why?" she asked cautiously. Matt thought she might swallow something like 'do you think women cannot be vigilantes or what'. He huffed. At least he was getting to an end.

"She wasn't… enhanced in any way. Using brass knuckles, wearing a taser. Decent hand-to-hand combat, she wasn't doing it for long. She wore an eye mask, it had… it had kind of loose ends, stripes or something, somehow glued to her cheeks. It covered a long scar on her face."

'Guess I wasn't screaming that loud. And then I couldn't scream at all.'

Jesus. Christ.

"So… who was she?" Vera asked after short moment and Matt thought he might gag at her curious tone.

"It… it was a knife scar. And she… uhm… she went by Gaia. I have no idea how that got into my head, apparently it was after a character from some book, a girl who-"

"-was born without a gene of fear. Her body… it was like it was constantly flooded with adrenalin, always ready to fight. Her father was CIA, she didn't know, not at first. I guess I mentioned it once, I always was an eager reader and I loved stuff like that. Sorry," she mumbled, letting out a small laugh.

The last thing Matt wanted was to laugh. Scratch that, the last thing he wanted was to tell her. To say out loud what must have been hanging in the air, something Vera sure had on the tip of her tongue, unable to grasp it.

"So… if… if you ever became a vigilante, you would go by something like that?" he asked hesitantly, desperately wanting her to figure it out and not figure it out.

Vera only thought for what could be a second. She shrugged. "I guess. Maybe."

Matt wished he was sitting so he could bang his head against the wall. He anticipated that the mattress somehow wouldn't have the same satisfying effect.

'She was unbreakable. I am too. I'm already broken.'

Vera was silent, her mind no doubt racing.

Please, just say it. Please, don't you ever say it.

Matt could tell the exact moment it hit her. He heard her astonished gasp, her body overwhelmed with the realization. "Oh."

He blinked away his tears. "Explain," he breathed weakly, his whole body somewhat flowing. Mind controls the body. But does it?

"The makeup Vicki wore – it… it was for the scar," she explained obediently.

Not much of a hooker now, huh? "Yes."

"Just like the mask. The wig – blond, obviously, dark would have no effect since she had dark hair, and was easier than dying the black hair blond. Wearing a wig for fighting is unpractical, so she was looking more like herself when vigilanting, disguising in the daylight."

So smart. Too smart. She would do it exactly this way if it really happened, wouldn't she? Matt wanted to throw up.

"Yes."

"She had got mugged, possibly worse, and she was sick of being helpless. And there used to be a vigilante who went awol. Quite inspiring. The vigilante thing, I mean."

"Yes."

"So she learnt how to fight, probably with some private lecturer, and hit the streets instead of the Devil."

"Yes."

"And you're totally a dick if you're blaming yourself for that, especially since it was all in your head."

"Ye- " he wanted to reply automatically, because she was right and she was right about everything, and the other Vera had done everything she would do in her place and he just knew real Vera would do it, and now it was showing, she confirmed it step by step, and it was scaring him shitless, how easily it could had been truth, and what was the last thing she said?! "What?"

"I can't believe you spent two weeks in a coma, dreaming up a brave new world, and your freaking over-all guilt,your real-life alter ego, Matt McGulitFace Murdock, actually followed— you know what, it's sad, but it's in fact really easy to believe that. Jesus, Matt."

Did she just call him a dick? Did she just call him Matt McGuiltFace Murdock? His brain shut down.

"You— wh- me- …what?"

"Wow, I made Matt Murdock speechless. Matt, were you seriously lecturing me about, I quote 'guilt bullshit', after you dreamed up that kind of a world? You're a walking guilt complex. And I love you. And because I like to think I know you, there is only one thing I can tell you, no matter how ridiculous it is. I forgive you. And if she was at least a little bit like me – she would eventually forgive you too, or him, whatever."

She wasn't like you. She was— she was-… but she was still good. She was helping people. She was bitter, scarred, but good. Would she really forgive him? One day? Jesus, he would never forgive himself if he did that. He was so pissed at that other him – he wanted to stuff hundreds packages of those fucking earplugs down his throat and let him choke to death.

"Matt, I… I know you, okay? I know that you think you have to… save the world and that every person you don't manage to help haunts you without them being aware of it. This… dream world, this alternative reality you created in your head, it just proves it. But it's also utter bullshit. I'm sorry, it's a horrible thing to say, but you just cannot save everyone. You just can't. You're just one guy. And the guy in your dream – I'm sure he had a reason to stop. In your eyes, he wasn't even trying anymore. But you are. Not to mention is not your obligation to be… Mike. Just, please, Matt, please, don't let this fucked up imagination get under your skin."

Too late.

"It's not too late," Vera protested as if she could hear his thoughts. Or did he say that out loud? "It was a never-ending dream, I believe it was terrible, I can't even imagine, but it was just a dream, okay?"

He let the words and her concerned caring voice wash over him, clutching her tee again, holding onto something firm, real. And it felt real. Real in a way the last four days had, yet quite different. Matt hated some of the things that had happened there and he loved very few others, just like he hated what had happened here and on the other hand not quite believed how lucky they had got in certain moments. How could he be sure this wasn't a dream?

"Come on, Matt. Say it. Tell me it was just a dream," she pleaded silently, her lips gently pressing against his cheek.

Soft lips, burning heat. Real.

"It was just a dream," he repeated obediently.

"Do you believe what you just said?"

She knew him. She knew him so well, the thin nuances, the train of his thoughts. As if she wasn't even from this world, as if he just dreamed her. And it was much more believable, that he dreamed her, because he usually didn't get good things.

But he had her now. Even if for just a dream. And he wanted to make her happy.

"Yes."

"Duh. Lousy liar. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Matt replied automatically to the ridiculous question. She hummed contentedly, running her hand through his hair.

Tender fingers, affectionate touch. Real.

"Then believe what I'm saying. It was just a dream," she reminded patiently, a smile in her voice, playful note in her next words. "And you're awesome."

Matt couldn't help it. He huffed a laugh.

"There's nothing funny about that!" Vera returned, burying her finger to his chest, somehow managing to avoid bruised areas.

Real. Warm. Light. He trusted her. She was right.

"Okay. Okay. I love you." His lips involuntarily formed a smile and he didn't even try to resist, nuzzling his nose in her hair right above her ear, breathing in, kissing her temple. Real. Mine. "God, you have no idea how much I love you."

"I'm starting to get one."

His smile widened and he found her lips, letting himself feel exactly how realshe was. "No, you really don't."

"Matt, you made yourself a human shield to protect me from a car,"she almost sounded as if she was complaining, but there was something warm behind her tone. She liked to feel loved. Who didn't?

"And I would do that again."

"Masochist."

"You would do the same," he shot back with confidence, regretting it instantly.

Jesus, why would he force her to say a thing like that? If it wasn't the truth? Worse (or better) if it was the truth? Also did he just encourage her?!

Shocked silence was the answer, but not for long. Vera snuggled her face to the crook of his neck, something self-satisfying radiating from her. He remembered one of their early conversations about something similar. She had said she wouldn't try to save him if her life was in danger. And even though she was telling the truth back then, there were moments he honestly doubted it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would," she exclaimed firmly, her heart beating perfectly steadily, making his own stop. Jesus Christ, this woman.

"I don't like this."

Vera lifted her head, kissing his jaw lightly. "That was a lie, Matthew."

Yeah, yeah it was.

And he was a terrible person for feeling this way, because a part of him wished it wasn't a lie, but it was. She would do the same for him. It was scary. It was terrifying. It was poisonously sweet and dark and it was like a shot of ecstasy right to his veins.

"You scare me," he breathed, throat tight with emotion he couldn't quite identify. She did scare him. In a good way?

"Uh-huh."

"But she was scaring me more."

You have no idea how much she was scaring me. How much it scared me I was the one to blame for her. How close and yet so far you are from becoming her.

"Here's your answer. Guess you're stuck with me then."

It sounded as if it was his punishment. Maybe it was. But Matt loved that punishment. If he was now trapped in a dream world – and he still wasn't confident he wasn't –, he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

"That I am." Thank God.

Thank God.