Vera's head hurt. Like my-skull-is-gonna-crack-into-at-least-two-pieces hurt. Also, she was lying on a floor – no, on a pavement – and she had no fucking idea how that happened, which sucked. She opened her eyes and immediately shut them close again. She reached to her throbbing head, groaning and deciding she was never going to do something as stupid as trying to open them again.
The thing was, she had no clue where she was, how she had got here, what had happened or what day it was, and not keeping her eyes closed would help with at least one of these questions. She whined and slowly commanded her eyelids to open.
She was in a dirty alleyway, probably somewhere in New York, Hell's Kitchen. Not that she was sure of that. Well, so much for seeing her surroundings being helpful.
With closer inspection, she found herself being clothed in her jeans and sweatshirt and considering the fact she wasn't cold, she came to conclusion it was like... end of April? Go me. Also, she had nothing in her pockets and there was no sign of a handbag or a backpack around her. Perfect. No calling for help then.
She pushed herself up with a groan, grateful for the presence of the wall on her right; she leaned into it so she wouldn't fall as the world spun. So. She probably got mugged and hit to her head pretty badly. Awesome. She subconsciously touched her left hand and felt a slight relief; whoever the mugger slash assailant had been, he had been polite enough to leave her engagement ring on. Sweet. She also had her watch, showing her it was just before seven – but the thinnest hand announcing the seconds was still, which meant the time could be totally different.
Vera sighed and remaining close to the wall, she headed to the main street. The sun was slowly coming up – did that mean she had been walking to work? But that would mean she hadn't noticed the watch had been broken by the time she had put them on in the morning, her usual go-to-work time being around five. Also, she couldn't remember— oh. Not to work. To her fit-box lesson. Right.
And shit. If it was already morning, she had been out for quite a while. Also, Matt was probably scared shitless. And she was late for work. It really was a miracle Mrs. Walker hadn't fired her yet; Vera was giving her reasons for that too often. She hoped her boss had her back this time too. Also, it was a wonder people still came to her lessons, considering how often she had been cancelling in the last moment (or not at all, leaving them just stand there with no explanation or a lecturer).
She entered the busy street, standing up straighter and trying to avoid the rivers of people flowing through the streets; it was easier than anticipated. Also, no one was paying attention to the woman who looked no doubt hangover and maybe even a little homeless.
Vera was relieved she found herself on a known spot soon, quickly choosing the fastest way home; she was hoping Matt wasn't out for a meeting yet, because she so didn't want to beg their landlord to lend her the spare key to their apartment.
By the time she reached the apartment building , the headache slightly faded to her delight. She jogged the few stairs to the door, hitting the bell which read Murdock— only to her see her hand-- her hand--- what the actual fuck?!
Only to see her hand... disappear in the wall the device was installed in. Her... her hand just went through a wall. She quickly retreated it, jumping away from the device.
"Doprdele."
I'm dead, was her first thought. I'm a ghost.
Vera giggled at the ridiculous idea instantly, trying calm down the icy fright that ran through her. She shook her head, reaching for the doorbell again.
Only to see her hand disappear again. Her breath hitched, her vision blurring.
Her watch were still. She hadn't felt cold or hot when the sunrays had reached her, nor she smelt the sweet scent of baked goods when she had passed the bakery on the corner. Her body was able to go through walls...? No one had noticed her on the street. Had she fucking walked through someone when going home?
Her heartbeat wasn't hammering in her temples at the terrible realization and it made her— not exactly nauseous?
"Oh my god."
She really was dead. But— but she was-- she was breathing! And talking! And--- her left hand shot up to her right wrist, trying to feel for her pulse, her throat impossibly tight.
There... there was a pulse. It seemed really fast and thread, but... it was there. What the hell did that mean?
She wasn't dead. Right? She still had her pulse. Her heart was beating, ergo she was alive. She sighed in relief. Something really, really weird was happening, but she would figure it out. She just needed to find Matt and his other super-friends and they could bring some light into this mess. This for example looked like Danny's area of expertise.
Except she couldn't touch the doorbell and she didn't have keys. Since her hand went through the wall, could she just... walk through the locked door? How was it possible she hadn't fallen into the core of Earth if—never mind. But earlier, she had leaned onto a wall, how-- shut up.
She took a deep breath, extending her shaking hand towards the door.
She yelped when it suddenly flew open, her palm shooting up to her... heart. And then Mrs. Ginger just walked right through her as if Vera wasn't even here. It was the strangest feeling Vera ever lived through and she had lived through a lot; she had even met a guy who punched a dragon.
Also, there was a possibility she wasn't living through anything anymore. Fuck.
She quickly reached for the door to stop them from closing, but her hand indeed went through again.
"Huh."
So her body followed. Vera blinked at the unusual feeling, biting her lip. Okay, this was really, really outside the box. And she hadn't fall through the stairs, which was maybe even weirder, but she didn't want to think about it too hard, soon standing in front of the 6A apartment, gathering her courage. Her heart should be hammering in her chest, because she was terrified; so far, she found out she was possibly half-dead, she could walk through things and apparently, no one could see her or hear her. But Matt with his enhanced senses... he would, right?
She swallowed loudly, walking in. Through the closed door. Huh. She was almost getting used to that.
"Matt?" she called out cautiously in low volume, slowly moving through the hall to the living room.
She entered the space, finding Matt on the couch with his fist curled against his mouth and a phone on his ear. There was a man by his side, his hand on Matt's shoulder in comforting gesture. It surprised Vera – she couldn't identify him since he was showing her his back and she was pretty sure she would recognize Matt's friends even from behind, especially friends who apparently knew his identity since Matt was in his Daredevil outfit minus the helmet.
She paced to the pair, her fiancée's name on her lips again.
"Matt, hey, I'm-"
A pair of bright blue eyes shot up to her face, the gaze actually startling her with its intensity. Her heart not exactly jumped into her throat for one more reason; Matt didn't look up. His eyes were sightlessly staring at an armchair, his look haunted. The room was so silent Vera could hear the dialling tone.
The man at her fiancée's side glanced at Matt and back at Vera, his eyes widening in horror.
"No," he breathed, flickering between the couple again. He stood up abruptly. "You can't be here!"
Vera just gaped, the strange reaction of the man who now seemed to be a little familiar stopping her rising horror; instead, she was outraged.
"Excuse me?" she protested, focusing on the impudent man since he was at least paying attention to her. But seriously! How dared he?! "This is my home, mister, and this is my fiancée, and I'm not sure who you are and what are you doing here, but from the two of us-"
He crossed their distance in one long step; Vera was so shocked by the lunge and the lack of Matt's reaction she didn't dodge and-
-and the hand of the man landed on her shoulder in a solid grip. She gasped and her brain short-circuited at the huge amount of information. This man could see her and hear her. He could touch her. And when he lunged at her, he walked through the table.
The... ghost? Jesus Christ, what the fuck, the ghost or whatever stumbled backwards, his fingers buried in his hair in a painfully familiar gesture.
"No, no, no," he whispered, sounding utterly horrified, "you can't be here, because that would mean you're-"
Vera gulped, observing the man looking around desperately, his gaze landing on Matt's figure still clutching the phone. Vera was lost and honestly desperate, because would someone be so kind to explain what was happening here, because it sounded as if the man wanted to actually say the ugly D-word Vera didn't like to think of when evaluating her state or form or whatever-
"The number you're ca-"
Furious roar cut off the voice from the speaker and Vera jumped, suddenly feeling something fly through her, the item colliding with a wall with a sickening crack. She snapped her eyes in the direction of now standing panting figure that had thrown the phone.
Vera winced at the sight. His face was twisted in a grimace of raw anger and despair. He grabbed the small coffee table, the closest thing in his reach, slamming in against the ground with another roar switching into something that sounded a lot like a sob. The wood gave in and broke.
"Matt!" she yelled after him, horrified. Jesus. She couldn't remember seeing him losing it like this, ever. He was scary.
His hands were in his hair at instant and a flicker of hope warmed up Vera's chest. Maybe he could hear her after all. Maybe he thought he was just imagining her addressing him now, so she needed to convince him, to reach him-
"Matt!" she called out again, but he ignored her, shuffling towards the window, his fists hitting the bricks next to it simultaneously, before his forehead followed; luckily, not as fast as the fists. "Matt, goddammit, I'm right here!"
"He can't hear you," low voice announced gently behind her back and she jumped ten feet above the ground – she had forgotten about the other man completely.
"Shut up," she uttered in his direction, following Matt's path, slowly reaching for his left forearm. "Matt-"
Her fingers went through and she felt tears stinging in her eyes. Her hand went through him as if he was created of a thin air – or she was – and she wasn't able to stop the sides of his fists hitting the bricks again with a heart-breaking sob.
"He can't-"
Vera spun to the man, her jaw clenched. The fact he was watching her with sad eyes didn't mollify her.
"He hears fucking everything!"
"I know. And believe me, I tried, so many times, Vera, but-"
She froze. "How the hell do you know my name? Who the hell are you? What the hell is going on?"
The man pressed his lips together and took few cautious steps in her direction. Through the remains of the coffee table. Šmarja. And Vera couldn't help but feeling like she was missing something. The strange man, who was apparently trapped in the same situation as her, resembled someone and her insides were urging her to remember whom, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She was obviously missing something, but a lot more than just something and Matt couldn't hear her and this guy-
"I... I was hoping we would meet, but I was kinda hoping we wouldn't."
Vera narrowed her eyes, even more baffled than before. What?
"What?"
"I ain't good at this stuff. It's nice to meet you, but not really," he added as if it was an explanation. Vera fought the urge to throw her hands in the air in exasperation and scream.
Just say it, man, I have things to worry about.
He hesitantly extended his hand in Vera direction, meeting her eyes, his blue irises surprisingly warm. She breathed in shakily, wavering, but accepted his hand firmly. After all, he was so far her only potential ally. The corners of his lips rose for a second inconspicuously before his face twisted in an unreadable expression.
"Name's Jack Murdock," he introduced himself and if Vera's heart would be reacting the way it should, it would stop instantly.
She felt legless, the images of two men – the one she had watched on the footage of Murdock vs. Creel match and heard so much about and the one she was now shaking hands with – blending together with almost audible click.
"And like I said. It's a bit nice to meet you."
-----Notes:
On a scale from Mrs. Cardenas to Nobu, how much do you want to kill me?
Also, I hope it's not offensive to create a gift-work with the 'Major Character Death' tag.
This is a work I finished a little while ago and it's last on my 'stock'. Each chapter needs a bit editing, so the updates will be as often as...? Right now, I need to focus on different things in my life (I do have one beside writing, who would think?), so I guess this one will be the last one for a while maybe.