8. Make a wish

Matt didn't stay. He tried really hard to make it look like he did - they spooned as always, and Vera thought his body went limb before hers did and when she was getting up to work (she had to wake him up too, so he could…jump home and she could close the window behind him – because Matt loved visiting her through her window), he was there - but she woke up in the middle of the night, finding herself alone, window in the living room closed only as much as he managed to do from the outside. She tried not to think about it too hard and not to come to conclusions that something really shitty was happening, something bad enough for him not wanting to share. They got up, him kissing her goodbye, fingers tracing her new necklace with a brilliant smile and he was out. She sighed and got ready to work.

Morning shift would be a pain, since she didn't get much sleep, but it had Terri. Terri, who welcomed her with a grin. And a gift on a counter. Perhaps she should have done better job explaining people she did not want to receive any present.

"Don't give me that look, Mechy. It's not a birthday present," Terri said flatly, gaining a weird look from Barbara and a sceptical one from Vera herself.

Vera approached the counter, poking the thing wrapped in a decorative paper, before she raised her eyes to her friend again. "Really, Terri? Because it sure looks like one."

Her best friend grinned. "See? That's where you are wrong. It's not for your birthday. It's a gift for your graduation," she exclaimed victoriously and shoved the package her direction.

Vera gaped at her in confusion and disbelief. "A graduation gift?" She graduated almost three years ago. And why would Terri give her any gift for that anyway? Terri sometimes just didn't make sense.

"Yes, you dummy. You graduated fit-box school. You're a badass coach now!" she almost sang and Vera finally understood. Oh. She didn't know if she should feel embarrassed or pleased - judging by Barbara's face, embarrassed it was. Judging by Terri's - definitely pleased.

"I…Terri, it was a four-days course. I don't really think-"

"Hush!" she interrupted her rudely, expression exasperated. "Just open it, Vera. Please?" Terri didn't make puppy eyes often – she usually had other ways to make people to do what she wanted, argumenting for so long that the other person just gave up after a while – but when she did them, it was a weapon of mass destruction. Vera did the mistake of meeting those eyes.

"Oh, dammit."

Terri grinned innocently as Vera took the package in her hands. It was a size of a palm – maybe a little bigger, half-malleable, not light, not heavy. Vera had no idea what was inside and felt curiosity and excitement taking over her. Damn you, Theresa.

She carefully opened her present, feeling two pairs of eyes watching her closely. She peeked something violet inside – it was in a plastic bag, definitely looking like clothes. She gasped when she realized what it was – wraps. Violet-grey wraps for fit-boxing. She didn't know what label it was – because instead of a logo of the manufacturer on the velcro, there was only four letters. Vera.

"Where the hell did you get this?" she breathed out, astonished, opening the plastic bag as well, examining her new gear.

Terri suddenly sounded humble and a little embarrassed by herself. "Uhm…I hope they are good quality. I'm not sure what kind you use, what label etc., so I guess it's more symbolic than anything else-" she babbled and Vera eyed her incredulously, feeling the fabric. They were amazing.

"Are you kidding me? This is awesome! Thank you!" She hugged her over the counter, squeezing tightly. She might need to work on her acting skills – on one hand, she kept saying she didn't want any gifts; on the other, her reaction screamed otherwise.

Terri chuckled. "Glad you like them." She squeezed back and let go, wearing a satisfied smile. "Oh, and there's one more thing," she said mysteriously, reaching under the counter. Vera watched her cautiously, waiting for another bombshell. She wasn't disappointed, even though she kinda was.

"Terri," she whispered, not really outraged, more like resigned, as her friend pulled out small pie, one candle shoved in the middle of it. She lighted it up.

"Happy belated birthday, Vera. Don't worry – or do worry, depends – it's homemade. Make a wish," she encouraged her, small smile on her lips. Vera sighed, but obediently bended down, leaning onto the counter, planning to do it fast, because she wasn't sure how much the MDDC fire alarm could take before spraying them with water. She watched the flame, biting her lip. What should she wish for? Million things ran through her mind, from being happy to making the right choices (she rarely wished for something concrete, she liked the general wishes better), until she settled on one thought, deciding not to be selfish this year.

She blew the candle out, wishing for Matt. She wanted him not to worry too much, about her, about anything. She hoped she made the right call. Only time would show.

Matt still did worry. But he probably got better at hiding it, because when he met her at Fogwell's that night (after afternoon session with Claire, yay!), he seemed better. Vera wondered whether he somehow heard her wish, which would be ridiculous, because she didn't even said it out loud. (And she was hoping he didn't listen to any of her conversation with Terri that day, because Terri called him a freaking sap when she saw the charm. Vera was sure it was in the best meaning of the word since she awwwwwed after saying it, but she had a hunch Matt wouldn't appreciate it anyway.)

They went over everything he taught her, she showed him the moves she learned in Allentown, letting him correct the mistakes, spending few moments with boxing. He was gentle that evening (Vera thought it might be due to the fact she put away the necklace for the training, claiming she was worried about it), guiding her, not pushing. He showed her more of some defensive moves – disarming a person, getting from someone's grip…she asked him how to get from the weird position when someone twist her hand behind her back, making her to bend down – his cheeks reddened slightly and he tell her to do it to him. He made a freaking somersault-something to free himself and she gaped at him, asking him if there was any less crazy ninja way. He bit his lip, tentative and she rolled her eyes, letting it go.

She very much liked the next position though – he really was gentle that night, because he just asked her to lay down instead of cutting out her core by himself and he covered her body with his. Lying on the top of her, little sweaty, breathing slightly faster than usual, it made things to her, alright? It wasn't her fault.

"Seriously?" he complained, as he sensed her body react to him (she wondered whether she should be offended that he seemed to be completely untouched by their position), raising an eyebrow in disbelief and challenge. Smug smile appeared on his lips though, so she guessed he was as pleased by it as much as outraged.

Vera slid her hand under his t-shirt, tracing the hot skin (and the muscles, goddammit, those muscles) of his abdomen, smiling innocently. "What? It's not like I can help it."

He pressed his lips together before meeting hers lightly, finding her wandering hand and pinning it to mattress next to her waist, gingerly at first. "That's… flattering. But you need to focus."

"I'm focused. I just don't mind this."

"…but you would mind if anyone else was in my place, right?" he reassured himself, the corner of his lip twitching – it was hard to tell if it was from amusement or from irritation. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes. I wouldn't enjoy being raped, Matt. That's how it's called, isn't it? Rape position?"

His body went rigid for a second, shadow running across his face, eyes hard and she regretted saying it out loud. He gathered himself though, expression clearing.

"Yeah. I guess it is. Now, imagine it's not me, alright. It's some drunk you really, really don't want to make out with…" he babbled, thwarting her attempt to kiss his neck in apology. She huffed. Damn you, Murdock, and your responsibility.

"Alright. What do I do about it?"

…

Vera left around half past eleven, sensing Matt was getting more and more anxious and unfocused – he was more aware of his wider surroundings (read whole Hell's Kitchen) than their training and she could take a hint. He gentlemanly walked her home, kissing her goodnight - she understood he wouldn't come that night (she couldn't really blame him, since she would kick him out before five a.m. again), promising he would meet her at the gym next day.

He didn't. Vera really didn't want to freak out, she did not. Except considering how secretive he was in last few days (while being incredibly kind at the same time, because that was just Matt), she kinda did. Matt never said what time he would come here – so technically he couldn't be late – but she figured that at eleven p.m., he would at least let her know he wasn't coming – unless he was in trouble. She would call his Matt-phone, but somehow she thought he was already out, so it would be waste of time. If that was the case, she wouldn't want to call his Mike-phone either, because if he was busy fighting, her calling him would only distract him. She was toying with her phone for almost ten minutes, unable to decide. At the end she tried his civil number, trying to comfort herself with a thought that he might get stuck at work, too consumed by some case (which he didn't bother to mention) to remember they should have met – it wasn't like that never happened before. On the other hand, he also once got kidnapped and saving him required the Avengers squat.

To her relief, he actually did pick up.

"Hey. You're okay?" she blurted out immediately as the dialling tone fell silent. Matt didn't answer right away, taking his sweet time, letting her to work up her fear again, terrible scenarios already forming in her head. Concussed, stabbed, taken.

When he finally did, his voice sounded strange, rough, heavy with something she hadn't heard before, making her heart and mind race. "Yeah. I'm sorry- something came up. I can't see you tonight."

Vera would at least smile at his choice of words if the tone he was speaking didn't make her stomach roll over, the something clenching it painfully. She squeezed the phone a little tighter.

"That's-that's alright. You sure you're okay?" she demanded again, knowing his answer before he could even take a breath in to answer her – no, he wasn't. He would say yes, though.

"Yes. Everything's- don't worry. Just not a good time. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Bye." And he ended the call. Vera tried very hard not to overthink it. The fact he wanted to say everything's alright and then changed his mind wasn't scary at all. No, it wasn't. And that he didn't say her name once either (even though she did the same), that didn't freak her out, not even a little.

She went home with heavy heart. She was scared to death, mind wandering in circles, his words echoing in her ears. Was he trying to tell her something? Something she should have read between the lines? What if someone did take him again? What if someone targeted Matt Murdock this time? It would explain why he was on his phone. Maybe it was something less dramatic – figuratively speaking. No kidnapping, just an injury – he might went out early and got hurt. Should she call Claire to ask her? If she was with him, another phone call would make them more nervous. It would make sense Matt wouldn't want Vera to know, because he liked to pretend he never got hurt and things were always good, not wanting her to worry. Which might make things even worse.

Vera settled at the injured Matt possibility, deciding she would give him more time, hoping he wasn't bleeding to death in his apartment with no help – he wouldn't be that stupid not to tell her that, right? She had trouble falling asleep with that thought, anxiety making her shiver despite being muffled in covers, sweatpants and hoodie on – and it was pretty much Matt's hoodie at this point, considering how often he wore it – it was somehow soothing.

Matt texted her around one a.m.

Everything is gonna be alright. Don't worry about either Matt or Mike. I love you - they both do.

It sounded quite schizophrenic, but this time she did read between the lines – he was letting her know it was him texting her, he was alone, he wasn't taken - the assumption he figured out she might get to. And Vera would believe him about the alright statement. Except each word felt heavy and bitter on her tongue, as she whispered them to the empty bedroom.

Skipping proper sleep wasn't good for her. Vera was tired and a little grumpy if she was being honest with herself, despite her attempts not to be. She drank two teas before the café got crowded as usual about eight, getting herself together. Meeting the woman who liked her coffee spiked with scotch – no, it was whiskey that day actually – made her smile, just like seeing the familiar faces, which seemed to be smiling, probably because of the weather. The sun rays danced over the tables and chairs, lighting up everyone's day. Beautiful sunny day at Hell's Kitchen – she did not see that coming.

Vera was also surprised, when she saw the man in the line. It wasn't just because she didn't recognize him – all the people coming to the café lately felt at least familiar if she didn't knew their names already – but mainly because he was blind. She hadn't met another blind person since Matt.

When he ended up being her customer, she wondered whether all blind people wore a genuine smile on their faces. This old man did. She tucked her hair behind her ear, his smile widening at her gesture as if he could see it. Or sense it.

Sure, Vera. Because all blind people have fucking superpowers, don't they?

"Welcome to MDDC, what can I get you?" she asked him as kindly as she managed, yet not trying to treat him differently than other customers. She knew Matt didn't like to be treated like glass either.

"One tall Americano, please. To go," he answered in polite voice. She nodded and entered the order.

"2,80, please. Extra sugar, no sugar?"

He shook his head and held out a five. She wanted to give him the change, but he stopped her with a rejecting gesture.

Oh. That was a huge tip. "Uhm… you sure, sir? It's-"

"I can tell you're a good person. Loveable. Even a blind old man can see that. Keep it," he pleaded and if she didn't know better, she would even think he was flirting with her. The corners of her lips twitched at the ridiculous idea.

"Thank you, sir. Would you please take three steps to your left? The coffee will be ready in a minute."

He did as Vera asked him and she got to work, preparing his coffee in a minute indeed. She hesitated whether she should query a name. As if he felt her confusion, he spoke. "No name needed. It's not like I could read it," he offered with a grin and he held out his hand over the counter.

"Of course. Would you like a holder for the coffee?" He shook his head again and she handed him his cup.

He misjudged and grasped her hand instead. Vera didn't panic at the touch – it was expected. The way he traced his long wrinkled fingers over the back of her hand was weird though. She eyed him and saw a thoughtful expression on his face. And a split lip. And a bruise on his jaw. That freaked her out.

"Sir? Are you alright?"

He fucking tilted his head and then smiled. "Sure. …Oh, the bruise, right? Had an encounter with a friend. He had no respect for an old man." Was he saying someone beat him up? Who would hit an old man? A blind one, for god's sake! A friend?! "But what goes around, comes around. It will come back to him somehow, I'm sure. Justice is blind, after all."

He squeezed her hand and took his coffee. She had no idea what to say. His words were just crazy. But old people tent to talk like this, right?

"Thank you, sweetheart. Have a good day… and a good life." He left the café with rhythmic tapping.

Vera was baffled for another hour, vainly trying to get it together. But she thought she had it after a while.

And then Matt came. No, he stumbled in. He approached the counter skipping the line, breathing hard, face pale, drops of sweat oh his forehead. He looked like he just ran a marathon. Or jumped over the rooftops, which was impossible, because it was bright sunny day.

Well, at least she knew he wasn't currently bleeding to death in his apartment, so that was nice.

"Uhm… Hannah, Michelle? I'll take my break, okay?" she yelled in their general direction, not waiting for their permission, not giving a shit about the amount of people waiting. She circled the counter, taking Matt's arm and leading him to less crowded part of the café.

Once they had at least a little privacy, he let his cane resting against a wall, not caring it fell on the floor, glasses already gone, and took her face to his hands, examining her with his sightless gaze intensively, thumbs stroking her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he demanded and Vera didn't understand a thing.

He was asking her?

"Me? Matt…" She observed him too. He didn't seem to be hurt; maybe she saw a shadow of a bruise on his jaw. He was definitely scared though. What could possibly scare him? She traced his face with her fingers carefully as well, searching for any clues. "What happened? Matt, you-"

He froze and his skin was now white as a sheet of paper. His expression terrified her. He slowly raised his hand taking hers – the one she had on his cheek. He slid over its lines with his fingertips, letting out a quiet growl.

"Matt?" she shrieked on the edge of desperation. What was happening?!

He let her hand fell to her side, bordering her face once again. "Did he threaten you? Did he hurt you? Vera, please," his voice was frightened, pleading for answers she didn't have.

"Matt, what the hell is going on? What are you talking about? I'm okay. There's no reason for me not to be. I was here the whole morning. Nothing happened," she explained him patiently, but losing her temper slowly.

He seemed to relax a little. He kissed her forehead, his favourite gesture for saying I care about you. "I love you," he whispered to her hair, "you know that, right? I won't let anything happen to you."

No matter how much his words warmed her heart, she didn't understand. And she couldn't help feeling he was trying to reassure himself rather than her.

"I…I know. I love you too," she whispered back, more as an automatic response than anything else.

He didn't say anything. He stood with her in a weird half-hug, lips in her hair. It was nice. But she was at work. And she had fucking no idea what his sudden appearance and the strange behaviour meant.

"Matt? Would you please tell what was that about? You scared me to death."

His posture tensed again. She placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart, just in case he would want to lie – it was pounding under her palm rapidly. "There was a man today." He fell in silence again.

Okay, that was a start. "There were a lot of men today," she confirmed, encouraging him to continue.

He clenched his jaw, teeth gritting. "We have a certain history together. He appeared in town yesterday."

Now they were getting somewhere. He picked up his phone yesterday evening, telling her it was not a good time, the tone of his voice saying more than his words. That explained a lot. Except it didn't explain anything at all.

"Okay. A man, who you have history with, came to Hell's Kitchen yesterday and visited MDDC this morning. I'll take a wild guess and presume you're not exactly on a good terms with him." Vera would like to see his expression, but he slightly pulled her closer like anticipating her desire and not liking it.

"Yes. You can say that. He wanted me to help him with something, I declined. We had a disagreement. I never thought he would…" He paused, touching the back of her hand on his chest cautiously, mapping it with his sensitive fingers again.

It all clicked together as she remembered the strange touch of the old man. She gasped, watching her hand incredulously, in absolute awe. "The blind man. You know him. Oh my- you're his so called friend? Did you punch him? Matt…"

Matt wouldn't hurt a niceold helpless blind man, not even for any kind of a disagreement. He wouldn't deny him help in a first place.

Unless he wasn't as helpless as she thought. Unless he actually did sense her movement, led weird talk about her being so loveable even a blind man would see it to mess with her, touched her hand on purpose for leaving a mark. A message. A message only Matt could receive.

An impossible thought popped in her mind. "He knows who you are. What you can do. And he can do it too, doesn't he? Is he- is he the one who trained you?" she asked him in disbelief, fighting to keep her voice down. She felt she was right, no matter how surreal it was.

Matt's…mentor? In Hell's Kitchen. In MDDC café.

Matt's hand gripped hers tighter. "What did he tell you?" he demanded in flat voice. He didn't say she was right. But he didn't tell her she was wrong either and that was an answer on its own.

"Not much, really. Weird stuff…"

He took both of her wrists, holding them together, letting her go from his arms just to face her. "What exactly did he tell you?" he urged, pleading again. Vera tried to recall the whole conversation a little desperate from his freak out. Matt was not the kind of person who would freak out often. Who would freak out at all. She gulped.

"Uhm. He just wanted a tall Americano. Left a tip, almost doubled the price. Wanted me to keep it, claiming I'm… Uhm. I am a loveable person and even a blind man can see it…" And maybe she should leave that part for herself, because his grasp grew so strong it would bruise her wrists.

"What else?" he strained through his gritted teeth. The lump in her throat was growing very uncomfortably. He was pissed off. Like I-will-break-one-of-your-bones-for-each-punch-you-ever-landed pissed off. He might actually kill someone.

"I…I noticed the split lip and the bruise… I asked him if he was okay. He said he had an encounter with a friend…who had no respect for him." She did not want to tell him the next part. He wouldn't like it. At all. But if he was in danger – and the idea horrified her, because he seemed to be afraid of the man, Matt from all people, and that meant he was really dangerous - he needed to know. He had to be prepared. "And that it was okay, because what goes around, comes around, it will come back to him and the justice is blind."

That's it. She was not telling him the rest. Knowing who he was or rather having a vague idea who he was, but mainly acknowledging Matt was afraid of him, she found his last words pretty scary all of sudden.

Matt looked like he was about to gag. His eyes were squeezed shut. "That's not all. You want to say something else. Say it," he ordered and to hell with your senses, Murdock.

"It's not important." It's probably important.

"Vera."

"He wished me a good day," she squeaked, not wanting to continue.

"And?"

"And a good life."

His grip on her wrist loosened, hands falling. His face wasn't white anymore. It was ashen. "What time does your shift end?"

What? "What?"

"Vera, please." His voice was weak, barely a whisper, his figure crumbled as if someone drained him.

"Half- half past one."

"I'll wait here." He bent down for his cane, using it automatically to reach an empty table. He sat in the chair heavily, expression partly hiding behind his glasses.

Vera's head spun, dizziness taking over her. She never saw him like this. She felt like her chest was trapped in a vice, not allowing her to breathe properly. "Okay."

"Vera? End of break?" She turned to the slightly irritated voice, seeing Hannah waving from behind the counter hesitantly.

"Sure."

Her body returned to work; her mind wandered though. And the landscape she wandered in, it was for some reason bloody.

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

Alternative chapter title - Stick is a dick.