Can work as a standalone or as coda to Damned after Damned If I Don't.

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

Crawl Home to Her

And I was burnin' up a fever
I didn't care much how long I lived
But I swear I thought I dreamed her
She never asked me once about the wrong I did

Hozier – Work song

The moment she opened her eyes to the darkness, she knew why she had woken up. She didn't have any superpowers – she wasn't a psychic or had enhanced senses –, but there were things she just knew. Matt watching her – or whatever she might call it – was one of them. She saw nothing but a silhouette of a man, leaning onto the doorframe of her bedroom, which would be scary if she didn't know the outlines of his body, of his armour, better than her own.

The simple fact he didn't react to her waking up – and she knew he knew – was alarming. He just stood there, a sculpture of an angel disguised as the devil. Complete with horns and stuff.

Vera reached for her glasses, switching on the bedside lamp. Blinking to the sudden soft light, she focused on his face, shadows that weren't caused by game of lights. It was something darker, heavier. Guilt.

Oh no.

"Matt?" she called out, low sound. One corner of his lips twitched, the only visible part of his face. He hadn't even taken off his helmet. Or shoes for that matter. His posture was stiff. Something had gone wrong.

He didn't react otherwise. Vera frowned, kicking the covers away, making her way to him. No reaction. She carefully reached for his forearm, stopping only inch away.

"Are you hurt?"

She would swear she heard him gulp before speaking. "No."

Her heart sunk a little at the tone. Hoarse voice, definitely not in a good way. He had been crying. Or screaming. Possibly both. Screw touching his forearm. She raised her hands to his head, hesitating in silent question. He didn't protest so she went for it. She slid her fingers under the helmet carefully, taking it off.

His gaze was lowered as if he was ashamed or afraid of letting her see something in his eyes. She pushed away the cowl as well, straightening his wild hair. She loved how they were always sticking in different directions when he got out from the armour. It was incredibly cute.

Matt closed his eyes completely, breathing in and out shakily as she ran her fingers through his hair. She had noticed he liked that and she enjoyed the feeling. It was a win-win. Hand moving to his cheek, she waited for him to give her a clue. Anything. She was giving him time, but she could tell he had no idea what to do with it. She tossed the helmet away, shockingly enough not missing the bed, landing it in the covers silently and she wrapped her arms around him.

For an agonizingly long moment, she wondered it was a wrong thing to do – his figure remained tense, the whatever material of his outfit pressing against her bare legs and arms rather unpleasantly. And then he finally hugged her too, slowly, unsure. But once he made the decision, he squeezed her tighter, his face buried to her shoulder, hot unsteady breath tickling her neck.

Vera wasn't sure what she should say. That it was gonna be alright? Ask him whether he was okay? He was not, obviously. She didn't say a word. They stood there for eternity, quiet mess of limbs.

It was her who let go first. She could tell he didn't like the idea of them separating, but when she retreated, he did as well. She kissed his forehead lightly, not so secret code; 'I care for you'.

"Why don't you lay down with me, hm?" she whispered, kissed his temple as well, taking his hand. It was still hidden in his glove. It was him whole hiding from her. Guilt and shame. He had lost someone. He hadn't managed to save them; that was the only possibility she could think of.

When Matt didn't let her lead him to the bed, she first thought it was a very bad sign; until he squatted – a weary, slow motion – lost his gloves and untied his shoes, leaving them at the door. She couldn't help a small smile. Matt caring about her floor was definitely a good sign.

"Thanks. Need help with the… uhm. The rest?" she offered as he stood up again and took few careful steps towards the bed.

He only made indefinable tiny sound that she interpreted as a miserable agreement. She walked behind him, unzipping the suit, helping him out. He stood there then, exposed, huddled as if he was cold or trying to cover the sudden nudity – not a physical nudity, he wore boxers if anything, but the emotional one.

Stick and stones…

Vera lied down, putting the helmet on the floor, patting next to her lightly and he wordlessly obeyed, burying himself in the covers. Jesus, he was a mess. Words burrito of sadness flashed her mind and she would laugh at that if it wasn't such a heart-breaking image of the man she loved.

She snuggled closer, their shoulders and arms barely touching, leaving him with a choice. He leaned in and she couldn't help a relieved sigh, rewarding him with another peck on his temple. They lied in silence for a while. It was hurting her ears, but she got used to it after few moments – so much that she actually winced when he spoke.

"I should have been faster."

Vera tried really hard not to, but she did wince, startled. She found his hand, stroking it lightly – it was cold despite the warm weather. She could feel how scraped his knuckles were. He had hit someone – or something – very hard.

"I know you, Matt. I don't believe it was possible for any human being to go faster at the moment," she protested in soft voice even when she didn't know the details yet. He had tried his best. He had probably pulled few muscles trying to get in time to wherever he attempted the rescue.

His fingers twitched under hers.

"I should have tried harder. Be better," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "She was right."

At that point, Vera got confused. Who was right? The victim? The aggressor? A bystander?

"She said I should have come earlier. She died in her arms, her best friend, she-" his voice traded off and Vera finally understood.

Her heart was clenched with cold fingers, grief for both women or girls washing over her. They had been two of them then. One of them had died, the other Matt had saved. And it wasn't just himself who blamed him. The survivor did too. Few solitude tears rolled down his cheeks. She pressed her lips together as she felt him shiver. She knew that kind of cold – the kind of cold that couldn't be chased away with the thickest sweaters and blankets. It was coming from inside. She sometimes chased it away with whiskey when he wasn't around.

She wrapped her arms around him once more, kissing his neck. She knew it was a stupid thing to say. But she had nothing better at her disposal. "It wasn't your fault."

Tiny humourless chuckle escaped his lips, his chest vibrating against her and she felt like the stupidest person in the world. But it was the truth.

"Matt, I mean it. It's not the most original line, but I don't aim for original. I aim for the truth. It was not your fault."

"I stayed in with a case. I started the patrol too late. I should have left sooner," he murmured to her skin stubbornly.

This time it was Vera who chuckled, unable to stop herself. "Right. You were too busy doing pro bono work, saving another life in a broad daylight. That sounds like a deadly sin."

Matt winced at her last words. Poor choice of words, Veronika. But it seemed to snap him from whatever state of mind he was. At least he was listening to what she was saying, letting the words sink in.

"She's dead. And I did nothing to stop it."

"You can't protect every single person in Hell's Kitchen," she offered, minding her tone this time, careful it didn't sound like she was talking to a stupid child, who just couldn't seem to understand something despite being explained for the millionth time. Her words were cliché, but she couldn't figure out better ones.

"Then maybe I shouldn't try doing it at all," he said flatly.

Her heart skipped a beat, lips parting, letting out shocked exhale. Whoa. She felt herself panicking, This was way worse than she thought.

"Sure. If that's what you want," she agreed eventually and he went rigid, obviously shocked by her approval. He probably expected her to try to convince him otherwise. But Vera meant it. If he wanted to quit, who was she to stop him? God knew he sacrificed more than enough to that life. Both of his lives, dedicated saving the others. "…just don't forget that if you didn't come there, they would be both dead."

His arms wrapped around her waist tightly as an ear-tearing whimper escaped him. The sound was like a punch to her gut, knocking the air out of her. She returned the hug wholeheartedly.

"You can't save everyone. I know it's awful and I have no right to lecture you, since that fact and dealing with it is one of the reasons I left med school, but it's true. Sometimes it just doesn't work out even when you do everything-"

"Sometimes," Matt repeated bitterly and his embrace loosened a little. For the first time that night, he let her see his eyes. They were glassy with tears. Vera hated when he was sad. But the imploring eyes, huge… it was a terrible thought, but the martyrdom suited him, giving him the strangest glow. Beautiful. Fascinating.

She mentally slapped herself.

"This girl, she was just a student, Lana Hill. Albert Magalles, the man who got crucified. Just like Edgar Harness, William Pomeroy and Mick Stuart. Ben Urich, the reporter who was helping us against Fisk. Elena Cardenas, a client, lovely old woman who protected her home with all she had. Pete Cabe, a drug junkie, but a good guy, taking care of is grandma, owed too much money to mob – shot to his head…"

She felt her hand trembling on his back, glad he couldn't see her expression. Jesus, he remembered names. He remembered the names of people he couldn't have saved. He couldn't even know it the moment they had died; he had had to pry after it later.

Jesus freaking Christ. She was pretty sure her heart just broke in half.

"Matt-"

"The list goes on and on. Starting with my father..." His voice was quiet, raw. Hateful. He hated himself. Vera had no words. She opened her mouth only to close it. Her mind raced. What should she do?

"You," he breathed and she let out a desperate sigh.

It would never go away. It would always be in the back of his mind, even when she had survived. She knew he had spent days thinking she had been dead, as she had been bleeding and suffocating right in front of him. He would never forgive himself for letting it happened, no matter how hard he had fought against it.

"I'm alive," she reminded him gently, stroking his back, placing a small kiss to his hair.

He snorted; very unattractive and very bitter sound. "No thanks to me."

"Debatable. I could have been dead for several months by that time. Mugging. Armed robbery. Kidnapping. Assault, I guess? Another break-in to my apartment was just the icing on the cake. Oh, right, there was also an attempted rape," she remembered and he winced at her last words, "I've been keeping you busy. And somehow you're always here to save my sorry ass. Like heroes do."

His chest rose significantly as he finally breathed in properly. He gave her a tiny kiss, just a passing contact of his lips on the skin between her neck and shoulder, before hiding his face again. She didn't fight the smile creeping on her lips at the gesture; he wasn't hiding anymore. It was simply a way of showing he felt comfortable with her close.

The worst of it was gone.

"What do you need, Matt? What can I do?" she asked, still rather carefully. His body tensed only for a second, before he finally relaxed. Or… went limp, pretty much.

"Nothing. Just be here… talk?" he offered almost timidly and she blinked in surprise. Talk?

"What… uhm. What do you want me to talk about?"

She felt his shrug. "Anything, just- I like listening to your voice," he admitted and Vera couldn't help her jaw falling slightly agape.

Huh. She only thought it was the other way around. Then again, it made sense – he wouldn't be with someone whose voice he found displeasing. Still, there was a difference between putting up with something and liking it. It was a compliment she had never realized she could receive. Something warm spread in her chest.

Except… shit. Vera could babble, alright. She was a master of babbling. She wouldn't shut her mouth sometimes, when it was highly inappropriate. But she was a total loser when it came to spontaneous talking. Her mind and heart raced.

"Mind if I read instead?" she asked awkwardly, her cheeks doubtlessly red. His eyelashes tickled the side of her neck as he blinked in surprise.

"Uhm. Okay…?"

"Good."

The moment she shifted to get up and find a book, his arms locked around her waist, disabling her movement. She licked her lips.

"Matt, I gotta get something to read. I'll be back," she promised, not gaining any reaction. "Matt? I promise I won't get assaulted on the way through my apartment," she joked, only realizing too late how inappropriate it was. Dammit.

He sighed. "Can't be sure when it comes to you," he murmured, but released her.

"You're so funny…"

It wasn't like he didn't have a point though, was it? It happened before. Twice.

Once she walked to her wardrobe – yes, Vera kept the books she had borrowed from her landlady next to her clothes, sue her, she didn't have a bookshelf – she realized she had only two books in there. One was rather dark and had probably too much blood in it, which was not exactly suitable at the moment and the other was utter rom-com. Well, shit. Maybe she should buy an e-book? What could he possibly like? Apart from Thurgood Marshall, obviously. Not exactly light reading either, not exactly fitting right now.

Vera started her laptop, making her way to the kitchen to have a glass of water. If she was about to read, she needed it. Before she could ask Matt whether he wanted one, a much better idea struck her. She grinned, opening the freezer and pulling out the experiment. She hadn't tried it before despite the fact the box had been in there for a while. This seemed like a good opportunity. She grabbed two spoons on her way, even though she didn't really expect to need both.

Matt was frowning when she returned, obviously confused and indecisive. Vera knew why – she was pretty sure he figured out she was bringing ice-cream. He had told her he didn't eat ice-cream. Because apparently he could taste every single additive in it and god knew what else. Vera had felt ultimately sorry for him, because dammit everyone needed ice-cream sometimes, and she had tried to make one at home. He had claimed he had used to like vanilla best. Well, it was a time as good as any to find out if his taste had changed.

"Shut that face and eat your ice-cream," she ordered, shoving it to his hesitant hands, gulping some of the water and nesting next to him on the bed. He moved closer to her side before fighting with the opening. He probably thought to hell with it, I can suffer through chemical cocktail for once, because he took a spoonful of the stuff. Vera bit her lip to keep her laugh inside and rather focused on what the hell should she read to him. In corner of her eye she could see his surprised expression, as he took another spoon.

Jackpot.

Jackpot on both fronts, because as she was typing, the browser offered her another website; a website she was visiting embarrassingly often. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen – Daredevil – sightings. And 'thank you' notes. Maybe if he had one list of people in his mind, he needed another to balance the scales. It seemed to be as wonderful idea as it seemed to be a terrible one. Well.

"Alright. I consider the two books I have totally inconvenient, so I just… read something else. If you don't like it, just stop me, okay?" Vera offered hesitantly, turning to him. She wasn't quite sure he was listening to her. He was enjoying the ice-cream too much. She smiled widely, ignoring that she didn't get any answer.

She browsed through the notes, looking for something convenient. She knew about at least one she definitely wanted to read to him. Maybe she should start with it. It was over a year old, but it didn't matter. The point still stood. Dammit, what was the girl's name?

"Just a min-"

"This is really good. Where did you get it? What brand is it?" he interrupted her, voice honestly surprised.

Her heart jumped. He actually did like it. Sure, she liked it too, it was way better than normal ice-cream, but the fact he liked it… that was a whole new level. She had no idea how to say it. She cleared her throat awkwardly, unable to look at him.

"Homemade," she murmured, her eyes darting to find the right note. Nat, the girl's name was Nat.

"Homemade? That's the name of it?" he questioned, sounding a little taken aback, taking another spoon. Wow, he had really missed ice-cream, hadn't he? Not that she blamed him.

Aha! Got it. 'There are lot of things that-'

"What?" She realized he had asked her a question and sighed. No way of sugar coating it. "No, Matt. As in yolks from eggs from farmer's market, cream and milk from farmer as well, cane sugar and vanilla bean. Homemade ice-cream."

Peripherally, she saw his hand with the spoon stop halfway to his mouth. He seemed to freeze in that position, before his arm fell back and his awestruck face turned to hers. Her heart must have been doing funny things. It felt like it did.

"You made this?" It didn't sound like he doubted it. He just didn't understand why she would do that. Well. Why would she do that, huh?

"You said you used to like vanilla ice-cream. But since you can taste everything and ice-cream turned into a cocktail of various chemicals to you…. Life is sad without ice-cream. Everyone needs ice-cream. It's a traditional break-up food. People watch rom-coms and eat ice-cream, it's a thing. Ice-cream is the king and queen of comfort food," she explained, babbling without planning it. Yeah, that was her thing. Babbling.

"You made ice-cream… for me," Matt reassured himself, shifting in his position, straightening.

"Uhm… yeah? I mean- I was kinda hoping you would share, but hey, that's okay, I can do more or buy a regular one for myself. But yeah. Basically."

Vera knew he had been holding the pack in his hands for a while, but the coldness of the touch on her cheek surprised her nevertheless. He gingerly stroked it with his thumb, kissing her temple with icy lips. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it," she murmured back, returning to the screen to cover her whatever. "Still want me to read? Or you're good with your comfort food?"

One corner of his lips rose inconspicuously and she counted that as a real win. He rested his head on her shoulder. That position was rather typical, but usually their roles were reversed. Huh.

"I think you spoiled me. Talk?" he pleaded and he was like a kid in a candy shop, asking his mum for more ice-cream. Ha!

How could she resist that? She cleared her throat. "Okay. Whatever you need, Matt."

He automatically reached for his spoon. She took a deep breath, starting.

"There are lots of things that define a hero. Courage. Will. Helpfulness. Selflessness. Sacrifice.
The man we call the Devil of Hell's Kitchen certainly is one-" she felt him stiffen and stopped.

"You're… reading that," Matt stated, unsure, voice thick.

"Yes. It's something I wanted to read to you a while ago. Can I?" she hesitated, worried he would shut her down. It definitely seemed more like a terrible idea than an amazing one now.

Surprisingly enough, he slowly nodded. Good.

"-He saved my life. He saved lots of lives and many of them are more important than mine, but I'm writing this because I need people to know there is one more significant feature of a true hero that they tend to forget about. Strength? Of a character, maybe. But what I'm talking about is humanity.
We can fight over the definition of humanity – whether it means being a human complete with his imperfections and weaknesses or being human capable of feeling compassion. I saw both the night he saved me."

She couldn't help smiling as she heard his shaky exhale. Had he never read any of those?

"I was assaulted by four guys, each of them some with kind of a weapon - brass knuckles, knives. I tried to run, but they were faster. I screamed and screamed and he heard me. He has all my respect for what he can do, but if he remembers the night, at least bits and pieces, he knows it didn't go well. He won of course, because he has something they hadn't – conviction – but he ended up bloody. I'll never forget the extensive laceration on his face and the cuts – god, there were so many cuts, some of them really deep, gaping scarily. He seemed to be barely standing. He called the police and asked for the ambulance for me, sending it few alleys over. And then he approached me – more like stumbled to my feet – , checking on my busted ankle carefully and offering his hand. He helped me to get up, supported my weight, got me to the location, himself breathing hard and tangling up his own feet multiple times as he did so. He never let me fall.
I don't know who you are, but I want you to know I am grateful. More importantly that I believe in you. You don't have to fight aliens to be a hero. You don't need fancy tech or super strength. For me, you are the truest hero because of your heart and humanity. Thank you. Nat," Vera finished, voice a little shaky as the emotion and endless gratitude behind the note washed over her once again.

When she had first read it, she remembered crying over it. This time it was Matt who had tears in his eyes, frozen. Any other time, she would probably tease him about adding a wrong ingredient to the ice-cream, because spicing it with his tears was not a good idea.

He was out of it. Ups. She didn't intend to cause that.

"It's— uhm. It's one of the older ones, but I really liked it. Should I read another? There are so many of them. Fair warning, not all of them are this fancy and essay-like, right under this one there is only 'Near Gotham West Market, saved from getting mugged. He really kicks ass.' And then 'Hell's Kitchen Park. Yesterday around eleven. Thank you, Devil.' Devil, 'cause these are rather old. I can read more recent- "

"I love you," came a barely audible whisper.

Vera shut her mouth, snapping her head to him in surprise. He hadn't seemed to be able to say a single word seconds ago. She expected him to gather himself after a while and say something, sure, but not that.

Matt raised his head, those big honest eyes burning. Her heart hammered in her chest, lips parting at the sight.

"I love you," he repeated, louder, firmly. Before she could react, his lips, slowly warming, touched hers. He tasted after salt of his tears, vanilla and sugar, the kiss sweet in every meaning of the word. Soft and slow movements, fondling her lips with tenderness. And gratitude. He rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you."

Vera had to swallow against the growing lump in her throat at his tone. So much emotion in few words. "Anytime. Anything."

She felt his eyes snapping open, so she did the same, meeting his smiling warm irises. She felt his hand wander, the weight of her laptop disappearing from her thighs. She had no idea where he put it and she didn't give a damn about it, when he grasped her hips and basically dragged her to his lap. She bordered his hips with her knees, not wanting to hurt him. She didn't see that coming. His lips sunk into hers, icy fingers finding the back of her neck, his other hand keeping her in place.

"Anything?" he breathed to her mouth, the vibration of his voice making her shiver. "Anytime?"

She had honestly no idea whether he was kidding her or not. Really? Now? Hey, she had been woken up in the middle of the night with the feeling of being watched and she was pretty sure she had been awake for a while now, so if she was going to be sleep-deprived, she might as well enjoy it, no problem. But given his emotional status? If he was a blushing virgin, she would have to decline, because it would be like taking an advantage of him.

His tongue slipped into her mouth easily, letting her taste vanilla again. He was definitely giving the impression of meaning it. Apparently slightly annoyed by the lack of her response, he moved to her neck, his hand sliding under her t-shirt. Still cold. She gasped and escaped the icy touch.

"That's-" He sucked a mark to her neck and for a moment, she lost the brain-mouth connection. Jesus, Matt. "-shameless emot-" Her tongue somehow tangled as his fingers wandered up, her nipples hardening immediately. "-emotional manipulation."

Vera would swear she felt his smile on her collarbone and she shifted in his lap to wipe that no doubt smug grin away. Certain part of him liked it a lot and he hummed contentedly, a deep sound in the back of his throat.

"Never said I was a saint," Matt exclaimed, returning to her lips so she couldn't respond.

Could have fooled me just few minutes ago.

She didn't fight it. She already felt her own arousal rising, warm in her abdomen. She leaned in.

And then he hissed in pain silently, just the smallest sound. She immediately retreated, startled. He looked disappointed and a little annoyed.

"Matthew Michael Murdock, are your ribs bruised?!" she demanded, climbing from his lap despite his weak efforts to make her stay. He made a regular kicked puppy face.

"They are not." He fucking pursed his lips, offended.

"You're a lousy liar, considering you're a lawyer. And wear a costume of the Devil," she murmured, making her way to the bathroom so she could bandage him.

"I admit the ice-cream was versatile," she heard him call out silently and she rolled her eyes.

Fucking idiot. First crying, then self-consciousness, then the stupid amazed eyes, sweet words, freaking seduction – and he had her exactly where he wanted, oblivious. Of course he was hurt. When he ever wasn't?

When she came back with the first aid kit – she was confident there was more than the ribs – he was still pouting. "Don't give me that face."

"They are not bruised…. Cracked? Maybe. Two," he argued weakly and she shot him an incredulous look, which was sadly totally wasted on him.

"Not helping!" she gasped, horrified. "Sit on the edge and tell me which ones."

"I love you."

Don't look at his face! He has the kicked, lost and love-struck puppy expression.

Vera sighed and started working. She was really glad she had asked Claire to teach her stuff, even though it didn't seem Matt would need any stiches that night and she could have taken care of this just fine before they had started their sessions.

They didn't say a word until she finished the last circle, hiding the loose end. She carefully raised her gaze to his face, ready to be strong and adamant. Yeah, he was wearing exactly the expression she thought he would.

"Anything else?" She placed her palm over his heart, waiting for the truth.

"No."

No fastening. No lie. That was the first. He covered her hand with his, his lips spreading to a soft smile. "Thank you, Vera. You're… you're really good at this."

Stupid, stupid smile. So hard to be angry with him.

She licked her lips, looking away. He didn't let go off her hand, his heartbeat strong and steady, comforting feeling under her palm.

"Well, you can thank Claire. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't get much practice. She was very devoted," she noted.

His other hand found her cheek, lightly pushing so she would face him again. No. His fingers traced the lines of her jaw and lips before trying again.

Stupid, stupid tenderness. So easy to fall for him.

"I'll send her a fruit basket. But I'm not talking just about stitching up cuts and bandaging cracked ribs."

Vera gave in to his touch, turning back to him, confused. His smile transformed, a little dreamy now, 'I love you' smile. He ran his fingers through her hair, gingerly tucking disobedient strands behind her ear.

Stupid, stupid words. So confusing and captivating.

His lips brushed her cheek, disappearing quickly, spreading back to the brilliant smile.

"You're really good at fixing me."

My baby never fret none
About what my hands and my body done
If the Lord don't forgive me
I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me
When I was kissing on my baby
And she put her love down soft and sweet
In the low lamp light I was free
Heaven and hell were words to me

When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her

Hozier – Work Song