15. Purgatory

She couldn't move a single muscle. She stared at the wave of explosion running up the building, glass shattering, floor by floor, fire exploding through, sending shards into air, panels of concrete collapsing. The fancy skyscraper turned into a fiery monster, swallowing everything.

Everything.

And everyone.

You left him there, whispered a wicked voice in her ear, making her world swim. You left him there to die.

Vera finally snapped from her shock, lunging forward.

A vice squeezed her body immediately, grip as strong as steel. Tears spurted from her eyes as she jerked from it – or she tried. The arms around her only held her closer to the body of whoever had caught her. A dozen of ways of breaking out flickered through her mind, too frantically for her to pick one.

She instinctively kicked the person in their shin with brutal strength she didn't knew she could possess, the vice loosening slightly, enough for her to free one of her arms and elbow the person right in their stupid face. She glimpsed a dark red sleeve even with her eyes still fixed on the metal monster spewing fire and glass.

"Goddammit," a rough voice cursed, trying to get a secure hold on her again, but vainly. She used her other elbow to attack his gut and his arms finally disappeared.

Go. Get there. Right now, the voice ordered right into her ear and she listened. There was nothing else. Only the fire and the person in it. Nothing else existed.

Vera threw herself forward, running towards the building; she managed two steps before a truly unbreakable grasp sent her flying back, colliding with another body. She could feel the energy from the glowing fist even without seeing its light.

She screamed, kicking her captor furiously.

"LET ME GO!" she cried out, trashing her arms and legs around, feeling the rush of adrenaline in her veins, a desperate desire to break free and run.

Run.

Fight.

Save him.

"Vera. Vera, stop," a quiet male voice pleaded, soft and cracked. She knew that voice, but she didn't give a crap right now. She didn't give a fuck if she hurt him when breaking free.

"HE'S STILL IN THERE!" she yelled in response, vainly trying to gain some oxygen between her raging attempts to fight of the Iron Fist's chi.

"I know. I'm so sorry, Vera. There's nothing you can do now. None of us can," his voice replied lowly. The crack in it changed into a break; the glass barely held in the frame now, just a light poke with her finger and it would shatter into million pieces. Just like the building.

'There's nothing you can do now.'

To prove him right, the giant of Midland Circle gave in, collapsing into the ground, leaving only cloud of ash behind.

"NO!" someone screamed in an ear-tearing cry, the sound returning in an echo to its source. Vera realized it was her, it was her own voice and it only made her fight harder, because why they were all just standing here?! Why was she the only one who was making any effort?!

'There's nothing you can do now. None of us can.'

You failed, the voice which had been ordering her around before supplied helpfully, turning her boiling blood into ice. You knew this was about to happen. You could have saved him, but you failed.

"I failed," she breathed, the icy blood still somehow roaring in her ears, muffling the world around. The arms around her body squeezed tighter.

"What-"

"I failed," she repeated more firmly, her voice suddenly not her own. Strange. Cold. I killed him.

"Vera-"

She couldn't move her hands. She had no idea how the connection between her brain and the muscles in her arms worked, her legs were suddenly not her own either, too heavy, tingling. She was floating. The blood felt icy in her veins, but it burned, tiny needles, millions of them pinching. She was falling freely from immeasurable heights, her ears ringing with the brutal pressure drop, her head spinning— Christ, why was the ringing so loud? And voices, voices all around her, right and left, up and down, yelling right in her ears- no, right in her head, how should she get them out, too loud, so fucking loud it hurt-

YOU FAILED.

I failed, she confirmed with a sob.

YOU KILLED HIM. HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU.

I killed him. He's dead because of me— please stop screaming, I can't-

"Christ, Danny, let go of her or she's gonna hurt herself trashing around like this."

YOU SET THE BOMBS. YOU BURIED HIM ALIVE.

I can't— I can't-

YOU BURIED HIM ALIVE UNDER TONS OF RUBBLE.

"Vera! Stop it!"

I set the—buried- please, please, not so loud, it's my fault, I know, I know, please-

"Shit, she's totally out-"

"Oliver! Yeah, loud and— are you-"

YOU DID NOTHING TO STOP IT.

I tried-

NOTHING.

"Who are you talking to?"

"I can hear them. What the— if I didn't think you just died, I would kill you myself."

Quiet, please-

YOU KILLED HIM. HE'S DEAD. IT'S YOUR FAULT.

I killed him. He's dead. It's my fault.

"What."

"Him. I can hear Oliver through my comms and he says they are okay. Alive and okay."

ALIVE MY ASS, LIES, LIES, YOU LET HIM DIE.

I let him die.

"Are you for real?"

"Yes. Oli— I mean, Arrow talks to me. They made it out in the last moment. They're fine."

FINE, YES. A FINE BED, MATTRESS OF STEEL, COVERS OF GLASS AND CONCRETE-

"Vera, hey! Calm down. They are fine."

"She can't hear you, she's out of her mind-"

"Yeah, we're all okay. Mostly. Yes, even Vera is okay, I keep my promi-"

"Vera, come on, listen to me."

Who's Vera?

A MURDERER. YOU.

"I mean, yeah, she's kinda out of it, not entirely with us, but conscious, breathing, not bleeding profusely or something— well they're trying to- she's not listening to anything we're saying, okay?!"

"Vera, it's Claire. Matt is alive. He made it out. Breathe with me, slowly. Vera!"

VERA. THAT'S YOU. IT'S YOUR FAULT, VERA. MATT? ALIVE? YOU WISH. HE COLD HAVE BEEN, YOU COULD HAVE SAVED HIM, BUT YOU-

Don't, please, please, please…

YOU AND ONLY YOU-

"Turn off my— and tell her what?! I- fine…. Vera, Matt will wait for you at home. Okay? Matt will wait until the lights will guide you home to him."

The screaming voice in her head fell silent and the world stood still. A man was speaking – she didn't know him, she hadn't heard that voice before. He was saying something important though. What was he saying? He wasn't speaking as loud as the others, it wasn't as intrusive as the voice yelling at her before but- but what he was saying was interesting.

"Huh, she stopped covering her ears at least. Ok— okay. Vera, look at me. Slow breaths. Matt is alive. Lights will guide you home to him."

It meant something. Vera knew it meant something, something important, she just couldn't put her finger on it, so loud, everything was still so loud, the world blurry as she opened her eyes, but this voice, the words were caressing her ears… what did that mean-

"Ligh-lights w-will guid-de you ho-ho-home…"

She heard herself talking, the words familiar on her tongue for whichever reason— why was she thinking about words when the other voice… it had been yelling at her about death-

"Yeah, yeah. Exactly—… for real? And- and ignite your bones."

"A-and ig-igni-ite your bo-bones," she repeated the words automatically.

Why, why was she— no, not words, lyrics, these were lyrics of a song. A song, why was she thinking about- their song, Matt's and Vera's, they had danced on a benefit, they had been in a gym, beautiful whiskey brown eyes, soft smile, 'maybe they just need lights to guide them home'- Matt- no one knew about that. Not even the mean voice reminding her of what she had done, how she had failed, not even that voice knew-

The other voices she had heard before couldn't know that either. This was Matt, only her and Matt knew, Matt had learnt to play the song on a piano, because he knew she loved that song-

"Hey, hey, Vera. Stay with me. Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will-"

"A-and I will t-t-try t-to fix you," she finished before the man in a red hood swimming in the sea of her tears could. He looked like he smiled, touching a spot on his chest.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think we're definitely better here. I'm on my way."

The red archer jogged away, his actions followed by a loud "Hey' from someone, but he only shoot an arrow to nowhere, carbon rope extending and he used it as leverage, running, jumping off and disappearing into the night.

"Fuck," the same voice who had shouted at him earlier cursed.

Vera was slowly realizing whose voices she could hear now, someone's hand rubbing comforting circles on her back and cold, Christ, it was so cold.

"Vera, you're with me? How do you feel?" Claire asked her gently, the circling movement stopping.

Vera felt like she had never gotten more ridiculous question to answer. How did she feel? Legless and headless, with the cold firm ground materializing under her knees, her arms wrapped around her torso to stop the shivering – god, so, so cold, she had been too warm just a second ago, how the hell that happened-

"Cold," she rasped, earning a squeeze on her shoulder.

"Yeah, let's get you somewhere warm," Claire offered, herself only in a sweatshirt, probably cold as well.

"Matt-"

"Matt is okay, madwoman, come on, get up, take it easy-" Strong arms appeared on hers and suddenly she was standing, resting her weight against a huge body created of stone. "Thanks, Luke."

"Thanks, Luke," Vera repeated dutifully, curling up to him a little, chasing after the warm he was radiating. Were those… bullet-holes in his hoodie?

She was seated in an ambulance, she thought. The road to the hospital was a blur.

Not a hospital; the only treatment she needed she got in the ambulance. So they dropped her off with the others at a police station. The Harlem precinct, Vera thought. The world was hazy, sometimes swaying, noises blending together.

Someone hugged her and smacked her back with almost brutal force, cursing, orange hair tickling Vera's cheeks; she melted into the embrace, familiar but strange. 'Yes, he's okay, he's at home waiting for me, he said' was her quiet response to Terri's question and her best friend squeezed her tighter before Vera was stolen from her arms by Foggy, the question repeated, the answer still the same and followed by his 'There is a God after all'.

Vera had no idea what she was telling the police officer who was asking about what had happened in the building and how she had gotten there in the first place, she had no fucking clue and she didn't give a shit, Matt was waiting at home, he was still alive-

"Go get him, tiger," Terri encouraged her as the taxi stopped in front of their apartment building and Vera finally saw sharply, the world slowing down enough for her to see more than a blur, to hear more than just a white noise.

"Thank you, Terri. Thank you. You saved his life, I don't-"

"Nah, screw it, we can talk about it later, I need to chew for doing exactly the kind of reckless shit I asked you not to do anyway. You need a very specific manly hug now, so just go, Mechy, jeez."

Vera found a way to control her mimics, managing something that might even resemble a smile. Terri was a brilliant, brilliant friend, who could see the future, the tragic future and had prevented not only Vera's death, but now also Matt's.

Vera ran up the stairs, the backpack over her shoulder and the coat over her forearm weighting a ton, but her body too light. She didn't find the right key at the door of their apartment before it flew open, muscular arms tugging her in, squeezing her in a bones-crushing embrace, hot skin of Matt's torso, soft crook of his neck and arm and side smeared with dried blood – but she couldn't care less, nuzzling her nose in, inhaling; sweat, copper and iron… and santal wood, Matt, home.

His throat was working, vibrating with a familiar melody, hitching now and then when he inhaled sharply.

"Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you," she mumbled, choking on the words as they came out with a sob, Matt's embrace tightening despite her thinking it wasn't possible.

"Thank God. I love you. You're okay, you're okay, you're okay…" he whispered to her hair and she shrieked, unable to respond otherwise.

Matt was alive. He was okay. He was right here. Hugging her. His heartbeat pounded in her ears, his carotid pulsing into the skin on her cheek, breathing, skin warm…

Vera had no idea how long they were standing there, door still open, half naked and bloody Matt in sweats, with her crying in his arms. It must have been minutes. Or hours?

"Come on, Vera, let's go inside," he pleaded with his lips on the top of her head, soft voice, Matt's voice, comforting no matter what he would say now, simply because she could hear his voice, which meant he was alive.

Vera retreated just slightly, watching his face – amiable eyes and full red lips curled in an inconspicuous smile, hair sticking in every possible direction. She quickly pressed a kiss to his mouth, just a passing touch that made her feel like she was flying. A breath of life on her lips.

She followed him to their living room, still clinging to his arm, welcomed by two other men – both in Kevlar, green one and red one, hoods down.

Oliver and… Arsenal?

"Hey, Vera," Oliver greeted her and Vera was crushed by the wave of gratitude at his gentle tone.

He had made this happen. Oliver had come to help them and he had saved Matt's life. She reluctantly let go of her fiancée's arm; the moment she did, their magical reunion was broken and she was free to pace to Oliver and threw herself at him.

He let a huff of air, sounding a little in pain, but he hugged her back, tender arm around her. She buried her forehead in his chest.

"Thank you," she murmured, wanting to yell it instead. She didn't realize she was crying. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He caressed her back and she could hear a smile in his voice when he replied. "You're welcome."

Vera shook her head wildly and Oliver squeezed her tighter before releasing her. He beckoned to the other man and Vera finally looked at him properly.

Arsenal was sure a man rather than a boy, but he was very young – Vera guessed he could be her age. He was also ridiculously handsome – just an objective observation. He was smiling unsurely, raising his hand in an awkward wave, just like he had when meeting the whole gang at Midland Circle.

"Hi. I'm Roy. Harper," he introduced himself and Vera recognized that voice as the one which had talked to her, trying to snap her from the terrible cacophony after the explosion, after she had thought— after. She definitely preferred this voice to the one changed mechanically; it was the right amount of roughness and velvet. And cheeriness, momentarily.

Vera only thought for a second before pacing to him and hugging him as well. He made a surprised noise, but hesitantly reciprocated the affection.

"Thank you, Roy Harper," she said over his shoulder. "For saving my life back there and for coming here in the first place."

"Sure thing."

Vera smiled, retreating. He actually did look like he meant it – it reminded her of what he had promised to Matt, that he would protect her with his life.

These heroic types had strange loyalties.

"So. I guess we'll be heading out. We already stitched up what was necessary and I believe you have things to do."

Vera glanced at Oliver, who already had a bow in his hand, Roy appearing by his side. Matt's hand found hers – she hadn't notice he had approached her.

"Thank you for your help. I owe you," Matt exclaimed, his voice full of gratitude and honesty. Vera nudged his side lightly and he understood. "We owe you. If you ever need anything…"

Roy and Oliver nodded in perfect synch. "We'll keep that in mind. Take care— seriously, take care."

Vera squeezed Matt's hand. Yeah, good plan. She didn't try to stop them; they seemed in hurry and Vera would appreciate a minute or two alone with Matt.

"Thank you. Thank you. Have a safe flight."

Oliver smiled at her, pulling his hood on, Roy following his example. They jogged up the stairs, disappearing through the rooftop access. The moment the door clicked behind them, Vera found herself back in Matt's arms. She didn't complain, melting into his body, wishing they would just merge and their breathing and heartbeats become one.

They showered together, the hot water washing blood and all fears away. They kissed several times, but nothing heated, simple wordless I care for you – they were careful, tender, lingering touches of their lips and hands, no rush, no burning passion.

Matt's fingers brushed her sore cheek, her left arm from her shoulder to its fingertips, her lower back, precisely following the path of her pain. She couldn't return the favour, her eyes couldn't see beyond the angry gashes – on his right arm, the cut above his right collarbone, across his left side and on his left thigh; so she ghosted her fingertips over the visible injuries and carefully caressed everything else, her hand shaking when passing over his chest above his heart. It could have been silent now. She wavered there, resting her whole palm against it, feeling the beat, her eyes closed. It took Matt a while to cover the back of her hand with his, pulling her into gentle embrace, his lips on her forehead before resting his chin on the top of her head. Vera wondered if he was listening to her heart as well and if he could tell that the droplets from the shower running down her cheeks were competing with her tears in a ridiculous race.

They stood like this for eternity, but that was okay. They had all time in the world now. The Hand was gone and there was no sword of Damocles hanging above their heads. Just the two of them. Together, safe and warm. Home. They stayed under the stream until the water turned cold and the bathroom was so filled with steam Matt probably saw better than Vera did.

Snuggled on the couch with a cup tea on the table, Vera was feeling the heavy blanket of tiredness falling back on her. Matt's heartbeat was like a lullaby, loving and reassuring thump-thump in her ear, his fingers tracing her bare arm in slow periodic motion. They didn't talk – neither of them wanted to. There was nothing to say now, nothing that couldn't wait.

Except the one question burning Vera on her tongue, the one question that didn't allow her to fall asleep despite the weariness settled deep inside her bones.

"What happened in there, Matt? Why didn't you come with the others?" she whispered, immediately regretting not keeping her mouth shut as the perfectly regular heartbeat skipped a beat, Matt's whole body tensing.

Yet, she didn't take it back. She wanted to know. She needed to know and then they could finally fall asleep in each other's arms.

"I… I wanted to try," Matt breathed, tentative. Vera blinked, the light of the billboard burning her eyes. She stiffened as well.

"Try what?"

His gulp was too loud in her ears. She retreated, watching him. He looked… guilty. And exhausted to death.

Ouch, don't use that word, Veronika.

Matt opened his mouth only to close it. She felt her heart speeding up in anticipation. Try what?

"To get through to her. She was brainwashed, remade into… into some kind of a weapon, but she hesitated several times when she was supposed to kill me."

Vera winced as the ugly K word left his lips. His eyes were sad, ashamed, lost. Matt had thought he could break the curse over his not-so-dead ex-girlfriend. The one who apparently had tried to kill him several times; Vera didn't give a fuck if she had hesitated or not, the goal was clear, but Matt… oh, Matt…

She knew Matt was ridiculously forgiving, had a lot of faith in humanity, she loved that about him, but after everything that happened, everything that could have happened… it made her rather angry. Seriously… there were boundaries. There was only a certain amount of belief one could have in people, especially in certain life-death situations.

"So what? You sent the others up while you were about to… talk her down?" she asked, standing up, her feet itching to pace. The words tasted strangely on her tongue. Poisonous.

She shouldn't be asking that. Something suffocating was forming in her chest, preventing her from asking further, but she fought it off. Whatever it was, it wasn't just a simple jealously. No, it was anxiety too. Jealousy, anxiety, fear and something else, something ugly she had never felt before, but it was making her nauseous. It was screaming at her to not want the question answered, warning her something would break.

She still didn't take it back.

"Well… yes. I heard the detonator being set off, the countdown starting and I knew there was not much time, so they went ahead-"

Vera's heart stopped; the world which finally felt like steadying swayed off its place yet again. Matt was saying something else, but she couldn't hear him anymore, his words echoing in her head. She was trying to convince herself she had just made it up that he hadn't actually said that— that- fuck, this was the ugly something, this was what she didn't want to find out, yet she had asked it and maybe… maybe she had subconsciously already known.

He had sent them ahead. He had sent them ahead, staying behind, knowing— what?

"You knew?" she rasped, reaching for the couch to hold onto something, because she felt like the earthquake had returned, striking with unbearable intensity, messing up her balance. Her ears were ringing again.

She peripherally saw Matt jump to his feet, his hand reaching out to stable her, but she was just fine with the couch, retreating from the man who was actually supposed to be dead. Possibly by his own choice. Lying at the bottom of the pit, buried under the rubble. No breath, no heartbeat, cold lifeless hands. Just like his former lover.

Vera didn't want the cold hands on her. She didn't want him to touch her now. No.

"…so when you sent the others ahead, you knew that the countdown had started? You knew the building was about to collapse?"

He had wanted to stay down there. He had chosen it. Vera had been on the verge of desperation, a second from tearing her hair out while trying to figure out a way to save him and he— he had- he had decided to stay down with the- the thing or whatever that… Elektra had been, knowing that- he had known he would have died?

When she looked up, darkness dancing on the edge of her vision, she found out the answer too easily; Matt's expression told her.

Yes. Yes, he had known.

There were no words to describe what the realization did to her; she just couldn't do it. She lost the ability to form words not only in with her mouth, but in her mind as well. Her mind was perfectly blank.

After everything they had been through, Vera didn't quite believe there was anything that would make her feel like this, make want to do this. And here they were. She was standing so close to him, but the distance between had never felt so immense, they had never been so far from each other and what more, Vera had never been so grateful for the inches being between them. She had never felt like this; afraid of his touch, panicked, disgusted at the idea-

That situation, the state her mind was in, the suffocating nauseating feeling, it only had one solution. One solution clear as day and scary as the darkest night.

She did what she used to be doing the best. She ran.

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

Epilogue ahead. New-ish POV. Read the notes after it, please, even if they are about to be as long as the chapter :)