Fanfiction Writings

I could play dumb, but there was no way Bruce fucking Wayne wouldn’t see right through that. I could deny the accusations and demand to know why he would think that. I could quit and save myself the trouble. 

Or I could do the scariest thing of all… tell the truth. 

Gotham City: 14 Years Ago

I looked across the table at a man who didn’t feel human. He felt closer to a demon, a devil, a monster. He felt truly vile. His eyes were dark, empty, and joyless. He had a smile carved into his face, but I knew it would never meet his eyes. It took everything in me to remain neutral and heal him. 

He had several cuts along his arms, but they were in various positions, various angles, and various lengths. They were random. 

The creature must have noticed me staring, “Little girl, ask me how I got these cuts!” His voice was shrill, and he cackled when he noticed I flinched. When I didn’t say anything he laughed harder. His hand snaked out faster than I could pull away. He gripped the nape of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine. His skin felt loose and cold. It felt undeniably wrong. His dead eyes stared into mine. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, or blink, or move, or scream. I couldn’t do anything. I was at his mercy, and I knew he had so little of it. 

“I said ask me!” He screamed at me and pressed his forehead harder into mine. 

“H-How d-did you g-get those c-cuts, sir?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from trembling. 

The creature released me. I had to fight the urge to turn around and run away. How could my father leave me alone with this man? He had to know I wasn’t safe. I knew he didn’t care about me, but I thought he would want to at least keep his golden goose alive. 

“The Bat gave me these cuts! He and I, we have a repertoire you see. We enjoy playing cat and mouse. And you see little girl, we like to play rough. It was my turn to be a mouse! Gotta keep the relationship fresh! Would you like to be the mouse or the cat?” 

The question felt like a trap. If I answered mouse he would treat me like prey. If I answered cat he would demand I perform violence to prove myself as a predator. The longer I took thinking about it, the more impatient and angry he got. 

“Neither,” I answered honestly. I willed my tired body to heal him faster. 

“Ah ah,” he tsked, reprimanding me, “that is not part of the game. Pick one.”

I have played mouse my whole life. I was sick of being weak. I was sick of being used. 

“I’d want to be a fucking dragon. Not a cat. Not a mouse. I want to breathe fire so I can tell men like you to fuck off and leave me alone. I want men like you to be scared of me,” the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. 

The Joker tilted his head like he was seeing me for the first time. He smiled at me and began laughing so hard he wheezed. 

“You have a lot of work to do then, little mouse.”

With that, the clown got up and left. The second he was out of the room it felt like I could breathe again. I swallowed hard. 

Tonight was the night. I couldn’t do it anymore. Despite everything the Joker was the one to finally spur me into action.

I ran to my room and lifted up my loose floorboard. I grabbed the cash I had stolen from the safe. I grabbed my go bag. And I ran. 

Gotham City: Present Day

I told Bruce everything. I told him every minute detail. I told him about my mom, my dad, and everything that happened in my life. 

“So, to answer your questions: I don’t know how many there have been, but it has been a lot. And no, I vowed the day that I ran away that I wouldn’t heal another villain again. And that I would never be– I will never be a pawn for someone else.” I would never be a mouse again.

Bruce stood quickly and moved around his desk. He stood before me large and brooding, and then he knelt. 

“I am so sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve what has happened to you,” his dark voice became surprisingly soft. “And I am sorry for doubting you.”

I felt my eyes start to burn, and I roughly blinked to rid myself of the potential tears. 

“Does this mean I still have a job here?” I laughed weakly. 

“Yes. I value honesty and loyalty above all else.”

I nodded and rose on shaky legs. I left the room without another word. 

I took the elevator down to the Batcave. My nerves felt frayed and split open after reliving my past with Bruce. I needed a distraction. I needed to hit something. 

The elevator doors split open and revealed that I was not the only one who wanted to get a workout in. Dick and Jason stood in the middle of the training mat. Both were shirtless and sweating as they swung fists at each other. For a moment, all I could do was watch like a wide-eyed pervert. 

Jason’s body was riddled with a myriad of scars. I saw evidence of burns, lacerations, gunshots, and of course… the autopsy scar. Dick also had his fair share of scars but it was about ¼ the amount that Jason had. 

Dick had the body of a gymnast. His muscles were lean and lithe. He was built for fluidity and speed just as much as strength. 

Jason was built like a fucking brick house. His shoulders were impossibly broad, and every inch he was covered in thick roped muscle. His physique looked like he had been carved from marble. He was unforgivingly hard and defined. I couldn’t help myself as I stared longer. Despite his size, he kept up with Grayson. For every punch or kick Dick threw at him Jason ducked or blocked accordingly. When he moved to hit back he put his whole body behind the punch. I could see it in the way his thick thighs and hips rotated.  

Jason landed a particularly hard hit on Dick’s shoulder. Dick winced and held up a hand. 

“First: owe that hurt, jackass. Second: I want a break,” Dick said in a sassy tone that made me snort. 

Instantly, both of the men swiveled their heads toward me. I tried pretending like I wasn’t watching them, but something in the gleam of their eyes told me they knew it… and maybe liked it.

Jason smiled at me so brightly that it made my heart clench. 

“Hey, you. Where did you go?” He asked. 

I approached both the boys, “I had to have a meeting with my boss.”

Dick winced, Jason straightened up. “What did the old bastard want?” Jason asked. 

“Information, as per usual,” I replied. It was hard to focus. Jason was dripping in sweat. A bead had run from his forehead, down his face, and ran over his Adam’s apple. I had to force my eyes back up, so I wouldn’t watch it trail lower. 

Jason smirked at me and took a step forward, “Are you ogling me, Y/L/N?”

I could feel my cheeks heat, “Not at all, Todd. I’m just taking in the physical condition of one of my clients.”

Jason laughed, and leaned forward, “Such a good little nurse, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t worry I assessed Grayson just as thoroughly.”

Jason’s eyes darkened slightly, “Oh, I doubt that–”

“Okay well, I feel like an awkward third wheel. I’ll leave you guys to it,” Dick said, as he practically ran into the elevator. Before I could rebut his claim the doors were already shut. 

I returned my focus back to Jason and I saw his eyes trail the burn on my cheek and the bruises on my throat. His demeanor completely changed. He became ramrod straight. Every muscle in his body was tense. Even a muscle in his jaw tightened. 

He ran a finger parallel to the burn, “How are you feeling?”

Like I got my ass kicked, “Fine.”

“Be honest,” he practically growled out. 

“Sore,” that was an understatement but I didn’t feel like voicing my pain. Every time I did that with my father he would just tell me to suck it up and stop being a complainer. 

“You’re more than sore. I know you are.”

I shrugged and that seemed to anger him more. I ignored it and redirected the topic. 

“Spar with me?” It was more of a demand than a question.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno @killxz @morpheus-girl @redhood414 @bungunz @conicoroahre @greenyofthegreens @taytaylala12@theroyalmanatee@nym-0-s@sarahskywalker-amadala@bonesbonesetc@dreaming-of-the-reality@gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid@bakugosgf2005@irregular-child@vythika96@greenyofthegreens@mythicalmo@eccentricarabella-blog@princessbl0ss0m @ghostindeath@whirlwind2005@the-lights-are-loud@00hellohello00@tfygcdy@theblindhag@murkyponds@midnightecko @crookedmakerfury@cosmicqueenieb@deans-spinster-witch@princessbl0ss0m @moony-clock@unstablekay@whirlwind2005 @waywardwind21 @astrelz @yl90

If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: You guys are so slay, ily all <3 Thank you all so much for your kind words, comments, messages, and interactions!! They inspire me to keep writing. I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story, thank you again <3

Hashbrown Cam!

I couldn’t help but suddenly feel so embarrassed. Why the hell did I say that? Why the hell was he not saying anything?

“Please forget I said that! Let's just ignore it and chalk it up to the physical and emotional trauma of the night!” I practically shrieked as I spat the words out. I could feel my face heating.

Jason just gently grabbed Hashbrown and set her down. He stood with a lethal grace and took three painfully slow steps toward me. My mouth was suddenly dry as I looked up at him. 

Jason gently reached out and grabbed my chin. His thumb laid possessively across both my upper and lower lips. Slowly, he traced them as if he were memorizing their shape. His touch was soft and gentle, but the skin of his hands was rough and worn. I could still faintly smell the gunpowder. I shivered against him and averted my gaze. His eyes were so intense as he took me in. It was almost overwhelming.

Jason slowly leaned down, still gripping my chin, until his lips pressed against the shell of my ear. “I will not ignore what you said. Because whether you want to admit it or not, whether I want to admit it or not, we want each other.”

My breath stalled in my throat as a burning heat coursed threw my body. 

“I will not take advantage of you after this traumatic day. I will have you when you are whole in both your mind and body. I will take you when you are no longer injured and hurting.” Jason’s voice became a graveling whisper, “so that you know that the soreness in your body is not from an attack but from me claiming you as mine.” 

Holy fuck. 

Words seemingly failed me. The burning heat became a roaring fire. Jason just released my chin, kissed me on the forehead, and sat back in the armchair. 

I looked at him, my mouth agape, “You can’t say that shit and expect me to go to bed!”

Jason smirked and quickly schooled it into a neutral expression, “I can and I do. Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

I squinted my eyes at him, of course, he was going to weaponize ‘good girl’ right now. What a fucking jerk. It was working. 

I crossed my arms and glared at him. Two can play this game. Purposefully, I looked at Jason with large doe eyes. Eyes I knew were hard to resist. 

“Yes sir,” I said, my voice husky. “But just one more thing before I go to sleep. I don’t like to share. The claiming will be mutual. I’m just as much yours as you are mine.”

Jason shuddered and gripped the arms of the chair. The wood creaked helplessly. I smiled at him, large and bright. The burn on my cheek tugged as I did so. 

“Good night, Jason Todd.”

“Good night, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

****************************************************************

I woke suddenly from a nightmare. My whole body sweating as I tore off my blankets. I felt the ragged breaths rip from my throat in harsh bursts. 

Once I got my body and mind to calm down, I sat up. Light streamed in through the window and highlighted a sleeping Jason Todd. His hair was wildy and curly, messy with sleep. His head was awkwardly lulled to the side, his neck at an uncomfortable angle. I winced as I took in the sight. 

I stood quietly, grabbing my blankets and pillows as I did. Jason stirred the second my feet hit the floor, but using my gift I kept him asleep. His body needed rest. I cocooned him generously until I felt his muscles relax and his mind still. 

He looked peaceful when he slept. His constant furrowed brow was smooth. His sharp features are seemingly softer. His full lips were slightly open. It was so odd seeing him so vulnerable. I had the urge to sit across from him, as he did me the night before, and watch to make sure no one would disturb him. But I had things I had to do. There was work to be done. 

I grabbed clothes from my drawer and got ready for the day quickly. My ear was still annoyingly ringing. My neck was bruised in a variety of ugly purple shades. My left eye must have popped a blood vessel because the white sclera was dyed crimson. At least the burn on my cheek did not have blisters ready to pop. 

I showered and changed. I looked rough, but semi-presentable as I made my way downstairs. 

“Ah, there you are Miss Y/L/N. How are you feeling today? I am so sorry about last night's events,” Alfred said, wearing an adorable floral apron. He was making a large breakfast of eggs, bacon, and sourdough toast. He handed me a plate, and I eagerly ate. 

“I am feeling okay, thank you. Do you need help with anything?” I asked, looking at the pile of dishes. 

“No, I do not, thank you. Actually, I wanted to inform you that Master Wayne would like to see you in his office as soon as you are able,” Alfred stated an unreadable expression across his face. Instantly, I was filled with anxiety.

I gave him a silent nod and turned making my way into my boss’s office. I came across the large mahogany door and knocked three times. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for an answer. 

“Come in,” Bruce’s baritone voice stated.

I didn’t want to. It felt like I was being called to the principal's office. But I am a big girl. I can do this. I twisted the door knob and willed my hands to stop shaking. 

Bruce looked me up and down, and my heart rate spiked higher. “Please, take a seat.”

He motioned towards one of the other leather chairs, gently I sat down. 

“I will speak candorly to you, Miss Y/L/N. You do amazing work. You’re an excellent person to have and an asset to our team.”

I looked at him confused, “And why are you saying it like it is a bad thing?”

“How many villains have you helped in the past? And are you helping them now?”

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno @killxz @morpheus-girl @redhood414 @bungunz @conicoroahre @greenyofthegreens @taytaylala12 @theroyalmanatee @nym-0-s @sarahskywalker-amadala @bonesbonesetc @dreaming-of-the-reality @gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid @bakugosgf2005 @irregular-child @vythika96 @greenyofthegreens @mythicalmo @eccentricarabella-blog @princessbl0ss0m @ghostindeath @whirlwind2005 @the-lights-are-loud @00hellohello00 @tfygcdy @theblindhag @murkyponds @midnightecko @crookedmakerfury @cosmicqueenieb @deans-spinster-witch @princessbl0ss0m @moony-clock @unstablekay @whirlwind2005

If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: So sorry for the late update, life has been chaotic! I am hoping I will have more steady updates for you guys. Thank you all so much for your kind words, comments, messages, and interactions!! They inspire me to keep writing. I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story, thank you again <3

Hashbrown Cam!

There is one theory I keep circling back to. The Red String Theory. At birth, we have invisible red strings tying us to the people we are destined to meet. Was I tied to my parents? Bruce? Alfred? Dick? Tim? Barbara? Steph? Cass? Damian? Duke? Or even… him? 

That’s too many. If that’s true, my fate lines look more like a messy evidence board. Or maybe a fucked up marionette puppet. Like I was made to be influenced by those tied to me. Pushed and pulled. Just a vessel of violence. 

But the Red String Theory couldn’t be true. At least not for me. I’m so covered in red. You can’t pull a red thread out of a sea of blood.

My morbid thoughts halted when I saw Pizza Joe’s. I parked off to the side. In an alley, no one could see. I approached the gunshots, listening for Dick. Boy Wonder was nowhere to be seen, but I made mental notes of the men that were perched on the buildings. 

I made my way discreetly around the building, toward the back. My heart stopped dead in my chest.

Y/n was pinned against the wall. With a gun in her mouth. Fighting with everything in her against the Black Mask.

Something in me snapped. Without hesitation I shot twice at his arm, severing the flexor digitorum profundus and rendering his index and middle finger useless. I shot through his stupid fucking masked head. I shot through his heart. I shot through the bastard's fucking dick. I shot. And I shot. And I shot. No one hurts her. Ever.

I barely noticed Bruce as I stepped over him. I could have checked his pulse, his status, anything. But all I cared about was getting to her. 

Anger and fear surged inside me, at the sight of seeing her covered in blood. I started to panic. My chest felt like one thousand pounds of pressure was crushing me. All I could do to calm myself down was to pull her into my arms and hug her tight enough that I felt her heartbeat against mine. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive.

I had stayed away from her this past week. Trying to keep her safe from whatever bullshit I would bring her. But here she was finding the danger all on her own. Without me to make sure she was safe.

Seeing her face, feeling her against my body, lit something up inside me. Anger surged.

“Why the fuck are you here?” I growled.

***********************************************************

Jason grabbed my chin, slowly moving it from side to side, inspecting my blood-spattered face. His mouth was moving but all I could hear was the damn ringing in my skull. Jason frowned and looked at both my ears. I felt a warmth run down the left side of my neck. 

Jason leaned into my right side, his cold helmet brushed against the shell of my ear making me shiver. “You’re hurt.” The words were simple. But they were laced with bitterness and anger that went beyond reason.

I looked up at his Red Hood, “Dick needs your help.” I couldn’t tell if I was screaming the words or saying them at a reasonable volume. I couldn’t gauge Jason’s reaction either which annoyed me. I wanted to rip that helmet off and see his face. 

“I’m looking at someone that needs my full attention right now. Grayson can handle himself,” he snarled the words at me. 

Gunshots sounded loud enough for me to hear. My brain started spiraling into the worst-case scenario. A Dick Grayson riddled with bullets involuntarily entered my mind. “Please help him. Please, Jason.” I grabbed his arm as I begged. His bicep tensed under my grip. 

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he ground out. “Get behind me.” Despite his harsh tone, he gently moved me behind him. His broad shoulders and generous height covered me completely. I kept a hand at the base of his hip. Ready to heal him if needed. 

There were four shooters surrounding Dick, and three on the buildings, all pointing their guns at him. Jason opened a pocket on his thigh and reloaded his right gun one-handed. He was so smooth with the movement it was like he was doing something simple like buttering toast. He was dexterous at a level I can only describe as masterful. 

Jason aimed at an impossible speed and precision. Seven shots rang out. Seven men fell. I don’t even think they realized Jason was enemy fire until they already had a bullet fly through them. It was seemingly impossible. 

Jason didn’t give me a chance to assess Dick or Bruce before throwing me over his shoulder and walking away.

“I need to help them! Jason! Jason, listen to me!” I yelled and slapped the back of his leather jacket. He ignored me or I didn’t hear his response. Knowing him, most likely the former.

Suddenly, he moved me off his shoulder and straddled me onto his motorcycle. My mind was acutely aware of his large hands pinning my waist down.

“Grayson is fine. He will take care of Bruce and your car. I’m taking you home. Now.” He was leaning toward my good ear again, his voice was dark and commanding. Lighting a certain part of me on fire. Who am I kidding, my whole being burned. 

“I am fine, Jason. Really. You got there in time. Just let me heal the boys and I’ll go with you!” I sneered at him.

“How about no,” Jason sneered back and straddled onto the motorcycle behind me. His firm body was flush against the entire back side of mine. My breathing became uneven when he reached his arms around me and revved his motorcycle before accelerating. I tried not to lean back into him. But he was so warm and I was so tired. Jason must have felt my tension. His hand found my hip, as he continued steering with the other. He pushed back, forcing my body to melt into his. 

“I’ve got you,” he said, making me shiver. 

Gotham was a blur of lights as Jason drove us back to the Batcave. In a record, 6 minutes. Which I tried not to take personally.

He rode us through the entrance, and as close as he could get to my workstation. He got off quickly as if trying to get away from me. But just as quickly scooped me up from my underarms and placed me on top of my examination table. I blushed at the firm way he moved me around. Like I was his to just grab and move as he pleased. He was an extremely strong man. He made it seem like it was no effort at all. 

He roughly took off the Red Hood. His hair was a wild mess. His eyes were dark with what appeared to be anger and concern. His breathing quickened as he looked me over.

“What blood is yours?” He curtly asked, messily digging into my neat supplies. I tried not to cringe as he did. With his mask off it was a lot easier to understand him because I could read his lips and vaguely hear him.

I looked down at my red-stained hands. I curled them up and down. The blood was sticky and cracked. Suddenly, an assault of memories flooded my mind.

The hospital wing after the mass shooting—healing a man being tortured over and over for information—my mom's bloody nose—my bloody legs dripping into my sneakers. Breathing became sharp and rushed. 

A hand gently caressed my face, “Hey, hey. It’s just me. It’s Jason,” his voice and touch was gentle. Easing my mind back to reality. When I was no longer trapped in my own mind I realized that Jason was once again cleaning up my hands. He washed the blood off of them until you never knew I had stabbed a man in the neck. 

His hands were warm and calloused and thorough. For a moment he just held my hands in his. His thumb traced small circles on the inside of my wrist causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. Slowly, he trailed upward to my forearm, and an angry sigh left his mouth. Wordlessly, he cleaned and tended my cut. Wordlessly, he wiped the blood and brain matter from my face and neck. Wordlessly, he took off my stained hoodie and disgusting scrubs. Until I was left in my white undershirt and tight black shorts. 

His eyes were hard and staring just above the curve of my breast. Right where my heart rapidly beat. Right where the Black Mask had made a small but deep cut. And then his eyes trailed upward. Toward my bruised neck, and burned cheek. 

“I should have killed him slower,” he growled out. I hadn’t realized how close Jason was to me. Somehow he had gotten between my legs and mere inches away from my face. My cheeks heated, as I took in the oddly delicate features of this harsh man. He had a very light sprinkling of freckles across his nose. His eyes were more of a stormy gray than blue. His eyelashes were so pretty and long I wanted to slap him. And his Cupid’s bow was sharp and defined which highlighted his full lips. I swallowed roughly. 

“Thank you, for—for helping me,” I whispered, afraid that if I spoke any louder I might scare him off. 

Jason scoffed angrily, “You shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. I’m going to beat Bruce with an inch of his life—”

Gently, I gripped Jason’s hand, “I chose this. Don’t be mad at Bruce. If anything, be mad at me. I should have been more prepared. I should have brought a weapon.” 

Jason leaned his forehead in so it was just barely touching mine. I involuntarily held my breath. 

His hands reached for mine as he traced along my old burns. “We are bad for you.” He whispered. 

“You guys have given me a part of myself that I thought was lost forever. How could that ever be bad?” I lifted a hand hesitantly up toward his cheek. Jason leaned in like he was desperate for the contact. For comfort. For me. 

“I can’t get you out of my head. I want—” Jason’s soft words were interrupted by the screeching of my car followed by the Batmobile. Jason practically jumped five feet away from me. I frowned at the lack of contact.

Well, Bruce is well enough to drive, that’s good. Pretty fucking shit timing though, Batboy. 

I lowered myself from the table. I tried hiding my wince, but I saw Jason tense. He reached forward steadying me, before scolding, “Do not push yourself for them.” 

Dick came out of my car with a large dimpled smile and a huge ugly shinner. Bruce looked pale but better. I motioned for them to sit where I was just perched. Ready to finish healing them.

Bruce was simple. I just had to re-patch him up. Finish what I started. Dick was a bit more complicated. Homie had the snot beat out of him. One of the bright sides was that he wasn't shot. 

When I was done, both Dick and Bruce politely excused themselves to their rooms. 

I slowly cleaned up my workstation. Jason silently helped me. His mouth was a firm line. 

My hands shook with exhaustion when I was done. My eyes went in and out of focus. My head was pounding from the exertion and the physical trauma. I covered my bad ear, trying to will the ringing to stop. Jason noticed and gently pulled me to him. Before I knew it he had his arm under my knees and back, and he cradled me into the elevator.

I snorted at him, “I’m fine, Jason, really. Don’t go through the trouble of carrying me.”

“I think I want to rip that word out of your vocabulary,” he snapped. “Let me just carry you. Don’t make it a big deal.”

My heart sank, and I whispered, “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“While I’m at it, I’ll take that one too,” he said, pressing the button number 4. Our floor number. “Don’t lie to me and tell me you’re fine. Don’t ever apologize for existing.” He huffed and paused, “Please.”

I nodded, not sure what to say. The elevator ride went by shockingly quickly. He walked past his room and into mine. He set me down on my bed gently. He pulled my blankets back and covered me. I got deja vu as he did it. I smiled under my covers. 

Jason pulled an armchair towards my bed. He angled it so he could see both the door and the windows. I looked at him, confused. 

He shrugged at me, “I didn’t like seeing a man have a gun in your mouth. I actually don’t think I saw it for more than two seconds before everything went red.”

“So, that explains why you’re watching me in my armchair because…”

Hashbrown barrelled toward Jason. She rubbed her body on his feet demanding attention. Jason swiftly picked her up and held her on his lap. She seemed to soothe him as he pet her. The tension in his body decreased, instead of ramrod straight he leaned back. Almost comfortable, but not quiet. 

“Because I need to make sure that you’re okay,” he said after a few minutes went by. 

“Why?” I asked, needing an answer. 

“I don’t like it when you’re hurt. Or in danger,” he answered. 

“Why?” I demanded, again. 

He roughly raked a hand through his messy hair, “I don’t know why. I just feel like… like you’re mine to protect. You put all your energy into healing other people. You deserve someone to care if you’re healthy and safe.” 

I think only two people in the world have ever cared about that. Sam and my mom. His words were like wildfire to my mind and body. 

Warmth bloomed in my chest, followed by boldness, “Do you have to protect me from all the way over there? Or can you protect me in my bed?”

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno @killxz @morpheus-girl @redhood414 @bungunz @conicoroahre @greenyofthegreens @taytaylala12 @theroyalmanatee @nym-0-s @sarahskywalker-amadala @bonesbonesetc @dreaming-of-the-reality @gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid @bakugosgf2005 @irregular-child @vythika96 @greenyofthegreens @mythicalmo @eccentricarabella-blog @princessbl0ss0m @ghostindeath @whirlwind2005 @the-lights-are-loud @00hellohello00 @tfygcdy @theblindhag @murkyponds @midnightecko @crookedmakerfury @cosmicqueenieb @deans-spinster-witch @princessbl0ss0m

If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: Thank you all so much for your kind words, comments, messages, and interactions!! They inspire me to keep writing. I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story, thank you again <3

Hashbrown Cam!

I grabbed gauze packets and shoved them into my chart, trying to distract my thoughts. I had completely run through them when Duke came in with several lacerations and broken ribs from the Black Mask. I shivered when Duke told me the details. The mob boss was sadistic and cruel, Duke had barely gotten away. I couldn’t meet Duke’s eyes after that. I’ve healed the Black Mask countless times. Guilt gnawed at my bones. Duke was injured because I kept that monster alive. And how many others? That line of delightful thinking always leads me straight into a downward spiral. Quickly, I grabbed more 16 gages and refilled those as well. 

This past week has been relentlessly busy. It felt like it was a full moon every night with the amount of insanity that happened. Even for Gotham. It felt like every one of Gotham’s plentiful villains had some sort of scheme, disastrous plan, or some way to ‘conquer the world.’ It made both my jobs a living hell. 

I was a walking zombie. I would sleep at my workstation and be woken up by the Batmobile screeching in with more injuries that needed to be healed. Bruce was almost always back and forth anywhere from 4-10 times a night. It sometimes felt like he was more reckless with me around. Throwing himself into danger more than he did in the beginning. Or maybe I was just overthinking it. 

A chime on my phone interrupted my thoughts. 

[Bruce has seven gunshot wounds. He isn’t stable enough to travel. We are on 717 Street behind Pizza Joe's. Be careful the shoot-out is still happening.]

The bright screen burned my tired eyes. The second the words sank in I grabbed the emergency kit and my keys and ran. I never treated them outside of the Batcave. They had always come to me. It must be bad. 

I drove like a maniac and got there in record time. 8 minutes. 8 minutes of Bruce bleeding out. 8 minutes of more shooting and how many more injuries. A fucking lot can happen in just 8 minutes. Panic rose in my chest, but I swallowed it down. Countless gunshots popped around me, lucky enough for me, none were aiming for my car. 

I got out quickly, grabbed my gear, and ran toward the back of the shittiest pizza in Gotham. The blue on Dick’s suit stood out like a beacon as he motioned me over. My black scrubs and dark zip-up hoody instantly got soaked through with rain. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the rain or gunshots that rang out around me like popcorn kernels on the stove. I cared about the physical state of Bruce Wayne. 

It was bad. With the rain puddle around him, it was hard to determine the amount of blood loss. I got to work instantly. I threw my bag to Dick and put my hands on Bruce. 

“I need you to stuff his wounds with gauze. I’m going to replenish his blood and then I need you to take the gauze out one by one, so when I heal him they aren’t inside him. Understand?” I asked as I let my powers take over. 

“I understand,” Dick said and got to work just as quickly as I did. That was before more shots rang out. Hitting the brick wall just above my head. 

“Fuck!” Dick yelled, grabbing his batoons. “They are closer now!”

I felt my body start to shake as I forced it to heal Bruce faster, “Who the fuck is ‘they?’’

“Black Mask’s men. They are shooting to kill,” Dick said, standing up and blocking me and Bruce from the new onset of bullets.

“Get down or I’ll have to heal you both!” I hissed at him. 

“I need to get them away from you guys,” and without a second word, Dick ran toward the bullets. 

“Dick! Don’t–” I knew he couldn’t hear my begging screams. My best bet was to heal Bruce as fast as possible, we both help Dick, and escape via my shitty car. 

I was close too. Bruce’s blood was replenished, and five out of his seven gunshot wounds were closed Albiet the work was sloppy, but he would live. 

That was before I felt the unmistakable coolness against the back of my head. My blood ran cold, and I pushed harder to heal Bruce faster. 

“Stop whatever it is you’re doing or I’m going to blow your brains out,” a man said. His voice was oddly distorted. 

I didn’t listen. I kept healing Bruce. Any minute now. Please. Please. He pressed the gun parallel to my cheek and fired. It burned hot against my face. I tasted metal and gunpowder. My ear was ringing louder than church bells. Hesitantly, I raised my hands. 

“That’s it. Be a good bitch and stand up,” He said, digging the barrel harder into the back of my skull. Fear spiked inside me. I knew he would recognize me, but what choice did I have? 

Slowly, I stood. 

“Turn around,” the brute ordered. 

Slowly, I turned. 

A low, mocking laugh escaped from his skull mask. “My, my. Little Miss Y/f/n? Everyone was wondering where you had run off to! Turns out your the Bats personal whore!” I saw his eyes trail me up and down. Disgusting oily unease filled inside me. “You have a woman’s body now.”

Anger surged, making my blood feel like it was boiling. I slowly unzipped my hoody. The fool's eyes were transfixed on the sight. So much so that he didn’t realize that I was grabbing my medical scissors from my back pocket. 

In one fluid motion, I grabbed the scissors, and the next I had them stabbed into Black Mask’s throat. Before he could react I withdrew the scissors, resulting in blood being sprayed across my body and face. 

The Black Mask didn’t seem to care about his spurting neck. He reached out and gripped my throat, hard. He ruthlessly squeezed until it felt like my lungs would pop and my eyes would pop out of their sockets. Weakly, I tried to kick and scratch him. He merely laughed in my face, spraying more blood all over me. 

From his pocket, he grabbed a knife. “You know how long I’ve wanted to play with you? Your father would never let me. But Daddy isn’t here, is he?” With a practiced grace, he sliced my forearm open. Earning a weak hissing breath of pain. 

He trailed the knife over my chest, slowly adding more and more pressure. 

I tried screaming for Dick, but he was too far away fighting with everything he had. Bruce was still unconscious. 

I reached for this throat, trying to scratch him. I dug my index finger into his stab wound making him cry out in pain and anger and release the pressure he held against my neck. Air was a sweet joy in my lungs. 

Pain flashed across my head as the Black Mask whipped me with the back of his gun. He pushed the gun into my mouth, and for the second time that night, I tasted gunpowder. 

A loud shot rang out. Two shots. Three. Four. Five. 

And the pressure was off me. The Black Mask fell backward. Taking his gun with him. Panicked I looked around for the source. 

There, standing above Bruce, was the Red Hood. The rain was tinking against the metal. His chest heaved harshly up and down. And in his hands, he held two smoking guns. His expression was carved in a permanent scowl, but everything about him radiated vengeance. 

The Black Mask groaned in pain. Without taking his eyes off me Jason shot until both magazines ran out. 

I was frozen in place. Jason walked over Bruce’s unconscious body toward me. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” He growled, taking me into his arms.

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If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: sorry for the late update guys, I wasn't feeling very confident in myself or my writing. I will try to update more frequently! thank you all for your support it means so much.

Hashbrown Cam!

“Miss y/l/n, I do believe every centimeter of this floor is spotless thanks to you. There is no need to further scrub.” Alfred said, standing above me. Slowly he bent down so that he was at eye level with me. He took the toothbrush out of my bandaged hand, shaking his head. 

“Might I have a look?” He asked, nodding to my hands. In my anxious state, I hadn’t thought about the condition of them, or what I was putting them through. The second he grabbed them it was like my body remembered that I was in pain. 

I stood up and nodded, giving him full view. 

He patted the island chair, “Take a seat.” He slowly unbandaged them. They were red and swollen, some of the blisters had popped, and some had refilled. It wasn’t my cutest look. 

Alfred diligently put on numbing cream and rebandaged them for me. We sat in comfortable silence as he did it. Both of us concentrated on what he was doing. 

“May I ask a question about your gifts?” Alfred asked, gently.

Instantly, my body clammed up. I didn’t want to say anything, but I swallowed down that protective response and nodded. 

“You can heal other people. Can you heal yourself?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek. “No, I can’t.” Suddenly I was bombarded by memories. Ones I try to keep down.

******************************************************************************************************************

Gotham City: 18 Years Ago  

“Sit down, y/n,” my Dad said, patting the couch. I was hesitant as I walked over. I didn’t want to be close to him. 

Slowly, I sat down. My body was tense, and I made sure my feet could sit touch the ground. I was not comfortable. I was ready to move. I was ready to run. 

“Darling, have you heard of the Kleinian and Winnicottian psychotherapeutic theory?” My father asked, peering down at me like an owl. 

I shook my head. 

“Well, part of the theory believes that children think that they are an extension of their mother. Children have a difficult time in their infancy and toddler years defining what is their own body or their mothers. Does that make sense?” He asked, his voice falsely sweet. I knew that I should just play along. I didn’t understand, but I wanted Dad to be happy. 

“I have a theory. If we can figure out how to make you heal yourself; you will learn how to heal your mother,” his words were frantic, his eyes bright. Some part of me wanted to run and hide. “Will you let me test my theory?” He asked. 

Not knowing what else to do I just nodded. I wanted Mama to be better. 

From his pocket, he pulls out a knife. My heart seizes at the sight of it. Quickly, so quickly, he trailed a cut along my thigh. Tears welled up in my eyes. It stung so badly. I didn’t like it. And the blood was getting on my favorite shoes. I frowned as I saw my blood run down my legs and stain them. 

“Heal yourself.”

I tried. I really tried. But I couldn’t. My powers wouldn’t listen no matter how much I begged. Dad never liked that for an answer though. 

So he cut. 

And burned. 

And stabbed. 

Over and over. For years. 

I never quite got it right. But that never stopped him from trying. 

******************************************************************************************************************

I blinked away the memories that threatened to drown me. I don’t know if Alfred noticed the distant look in my eyes, but he quickly changed the topic. 

“You have barely said a word all morning,” Alfred said, making an observation. 

I knew this tactic. We used it in nursing. You state the obvious in hopes that the person elaborate and clarify if there is a reason. 

“I’m not feeling very social today,” is what I landed on saying. I didn’t want to reveal too much to him. It was almost like he could read me like a book though. 

“Why?” He asked, simply. 

He looked at me with his wise empathetic Alfred eyes. All of a sudden I wanted to crumble. I wanted to tell him everything that went wrong in my life starting with day one. But that was irrational. That was that scared little girl with the bloody sneakers that broke free from time to time.

I cleared my throat and flattened my face of emotion, “I’m seeing my father today. Well… I actually have not decided if I’m going to go or not.” 

Alfred gently patted my hands, signifying that he was done, they did feel a lot better. I mumbled a soft thank you, he nodded as if it was nothing. 

“Your father, is he a good man?” I saw the cogs in Alfred’s head turning, deciding that this was the best question to ask. 

“No. I wouldn’t say he is. But honestly, I don’t know if I have a definition of ‘good’ anymore.” My voice was smaller than I wanted it to be. 

“I see. Miss, may I speak candidly?” Alfred asked, picking up a spoon and polishing it. 

I swallowed, “You may.” 

“It appears to me like you are dreading this lunch with your father. What service are you doing yourself if you go?” 

I blink, trying to gather my thoughts. “If I also am speaking candidly, the service I would be doing for myself would be protecting myself.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, “In what way?” 

I shook my head. I revealed too much. “Protecting myself from a positively boring time! I mean the man doesn’t even like Skip-Bo! Can you imagine, Alfred?” 

“A truly horrific man I see.” His voice had a strange edge to it. One that I was unfamiliar with. 

I laughed and muttered so quietly under my breath that he couldn’t hear, “Truly a horrific man.” 

We didn’t say anything to each other after that. I politely excused myself and got ready for my hellish lunch plans.

******************************************************************************************************************

I arrived at lunch at exactly 12:30. Usually I was a meticulously early person, but this small action was a quiet rebellion.

My heart sank when I saw the back of my father. His leg bounced. He was annoyed. Wonderful.

“I would think that for your mother’s memory, you at least try to be more punctual.” He said, already snipping at me.

“Mkay.” I purposely dismissed him. A new fire lit beneath me. Suddenly I didn’t care about his petty little comments or his opinion at all. 

I saw as he sat across from me; he was fully assessing me. Taking in every detail. 

“Why are your hands bandaged?” He asked. 

“Work accident.”

His eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe me. It didn’t really matter. I wasn’t technically lying.

“Do you ever feel guilty?” The question caught me so off guard I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Guilty?” I asked, clearly confused.

“That you could never figure out how to heal her.” He said the words as if they were special blows to my body. 

“Yes of course I do,” I said. 

“You don’t visit her grave. You don’t call. You don’t text. It’s like you never wanted to be a part of our family in the first place. Your mother would want us to be on good terms.” 

I took a long breath in through my nose and roughly exhaled. “Do you want something? That’s usually when you try to use her to manipulate me.” 

“Manipulate you! This is coming from the girl who would cry for my wife every time I tried to discipline her. You’re the manipulative ungrateful brat!” 

I got up quickly. Leaving behind more cash than both our bills and tips combined. “Every time I give you a chance you show me who you are. I keep thinking there is more to you or that you will change. Well, newsflash, you’re not going to. I don’t need you in my life. I don’t want you in my life.” 

Alongside the cash, I slapped down a court-ordered restraining order. 

“Good riddance.” 

I practically ran out of the restaurant. I didn’t wait to see his reaction. I quickly got into my car and drove off. Tears welled up in my eyes. Breathing became difficult. But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know if he had men trailing me or not. 

I tried my best to keep it together as I drove back to Wayne Manor. I kept it together as I walked in the door. I kept it together walking up the stairs. I kept it together as I shut my door behind me. But after that? I crumpled in on myself. 

I sobbed until no tears came out and my chest hurt. I choked on the air, not being able to get enough. My mind couldn’t catch up with my body. I couldn’t get enough air in. It felt like my throat was closing. My fingers went cold and numb. Logically I knew I was having a panic attack. But I couldn’t calm myself down. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. My clothes became too tight. Helpless I started trying to take them off but I couldn’t they wouldn’t come off they were stuck to my body they would be there forever itching my skin until I couldn’t breathe and I died on the floor forever and ever and ever—

Strong hands gripped my face, “Breathe! Y/n breathe in! Like this,” Jason was laying on the floor with me, one hand on my chest the other on my face. He motioned inhaling in for five seconds and out for seven. In for five. Out for seven. The panic slightly eased but I still was trying to claw off my shirt. Once again I felt restricted and trapped. My breathing increased again. Jason grabbed both my hands with one of his and with his other hand he tore my shirt open. 

Instantly I felt like I could breathe. 

“That’s it. In and out. In and out. In and out,” he kept demonstrating for me until I had been steadily breathing for a few minutes. He just stayed with me for a while breathing with me. Our chests rose and fell together. I felt the warmth of his exhale against my cheek. It felt safe in that moment. Safer than I’ve felt for a long time. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, his voice small. Smaller than I thought possible. 

Some part of me did but I didn’t think I was ready to reveal all of it yet. “I gave my dad a restraining order today.” I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that rose in me. Soon I was snorting I was laughing so hard. “God, my life is such a joke!”

I felt Jason stiffen. He was surprised by this. Almost angry by this news. “Why? What shit did he do?” 

I shook my head my laughter dying down. “Can we talk about something else right now? Please?” 

Jason’s eyes darkened like he was remembering that piece of information for later. “I’m sorry for being a jackass last night. I get these nightmares and I get so confused and very hostile. I should have warned you not to try and help me.” 

I shook my head, “It wouldn’t have mattered. I would have tried to help you anyway.”

Jason gave me a pained look and gently ran his thumb along the edge of my jaw. “Why are you so nice? Why are you so good?” 

“Do you have a definition for good?” I asked, my voice suddenly husky, realizing how close we are and responding to his touch. 

“No. I just think of you,” he said, almost a whisper. 

I felt my cheeks heat, “Thank you for thinking that. I just don’t— you don’t know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve helped. It’s all gray, Jason. I promise if you find out more about me you won’t like it.” 

“I sincerely doubt that.” 

As if waking up from a trance Jason shot up. He tossed me a blanket, covering my exposed chest. He cleared his throat. 

“So, we are even now. You barged in on me. I barged in on you. Even Steven, all set, no worries. Goodbye.” 

Stunned into silence I watched as Jason left. What the fuck just happened? 

******************************************************************************************************************

Jason was just getting to leave when he heard it. The worst sound he had ever heard in his life. The sounds of whimpering and choking sobs came from y/n’s room. Without another thought, he ran into her room. He found her lying on the floor, gasping for breath, and clawing at her own skin. He had to comfort her. He had to help. So he soothed the ways he had been soothed before. He stayed with her. He helped her in the ways he knew he could. But as if snapping back to reality, his promise to himself to stay away set in. 

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! The plan was to stay away from her not be her knight in shining armor! God, why the fuck can’t I stay away? I couldn’t stand hearing her cry or struggling to breathe. It was like something in me cracked open. I had no choice but to help her.  Jason thought. 

He threw on the red hood and stormed out of the house needing to regroup and blow off some steam. Maybe he would look into her father. But no that had to do with her. That’s off limits! Off limits, Todd! Off fucking limits! God, he needed to hit something.

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Hashbrown Cam!

“Jason, why the hell did you not say anything? You have a fucking gunshot wound!” I yelled at him, as I slowly healed him. I saw spots float in the edges of my vision and felt bile rise in my throat. Quickly, I blinked and swallowed trying to regain composure. After healing Tim, Dick, and Bruce using my power felt more like drudging through mud rather than gliding on ice. 

I felt Jason’s grip on my wrist tighten, “Don’t you dare try to heal me. I don’t want it.” Contraindicating his harsh tone, he lightly cleaned my hands and began wrapping them meticulously. 

“What do you mean you don’t want it? You need it.” Anger flashed inside me. His tone might have been harsh, but mine was final. There was no arguing with me. Not over this. 

Jason must have felt the signifying cue of pins and needles, “Dammit, y/n! I said I don’t want it! Not when you’re like this!”

Annoyance, sharp and hot stabbed through me, “Jason, I’m fine. I’ve dealt with worse before, and I deal with worse in the future. But you need to have that healed.” The argument was futile. I was done healing him by the time the words left my mouth. 

I felt Jason tense when he realized what I had done. His eyes burned with anger. I tried my best to keep eye contact with him. Not wanting to back down. But my body betrayed me and began to sway. 

Jason’s hands steadied me and I heard him swear under his breath, “Dick get me a protein bar.” Once again it was a demand. 

“Were you raised in a barn? Saying fucking please, dickwad,” I said, unsteadily. 

Jason held up the protein bar, “I don’t want another word out of you. Eat it.”

Out of spite, I kept my mouth shut tight. 

“You either eat this willingly or I shove it down your throat,” Jason practically growled. 

Succumbing to my body’s needs I ate the damn protein bar. Despite not wanting to follow Jason’s commands I needed food, water, and sleep. When I finished the protein bar I held the empty wrapper up for him to see. “There are you happy?”

“Not in the slightest,” he grumbled. 

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes, slowly I got up. “Well while you are sulking in the corner I am going to bed. Goodnight.” 

“Try not to pass out on your way up there,” Jason yelled behind me. I was already in the elevator. 

“Try not to get shot again,” I shuck my tongue out just before the doors closed. I could have sworn I saw Jason smirk at that.

***********************************************************************************************

That night I could barely sleep. I tossed and turned, my mind racing. Just as I was finally drifting off to sleep a scream cut through the air. In a matter of seconds, I threw my blankets off and ran out of my room. I looked frantically around trying to determine where the scream came from. A few whimpers sounded and I realized it came from the room neighboring my own. Without a second thought, I opened the door. 

The room was dark save for one lamp that remained on, giving the room a slight glow. The room was clean with miscellaneous books and knives scattered about. Toward the back of the room, pressed up against two walls, as if hiding, was a bed. A bed with a man thrashing around like a fish out of water. He was gasping for air, and crying out. 

“Please, stop! Please! Please!” Jason cried and begged. Something inside me cracked, as I ran forward. 

I knew I probably shouldn’t have abruptly woken him up, but I couldn’t stand the fear and heartbreak in his voice. 

“Jason,” I said gently, but loud enough to wake him up. He thrashed more. “Jason, wake up, please,” I begged him. 

It wasn’t working, slowly I put my hand on his shoulder, and as if I struck him with lightning he abruptly shot up in bed. His hands wrapped around my throat. Instantly, I couldn’t breathe. His grip was a steal that I could not break. 

“Jason!” I croaked out. His eyes were unseeing, somewhere far away. “Jason!” I tried again. Not wanting to hurt him, but needing him to get off I started lightly slapping his face. I saw him blink and shake his head as if clearing cobwebs. I saw the moment he realized it was me. He released me instantly and pushed himself to the far edge of his bed. Putting the most distance between us as he could. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He yelled at me, his eyes crazed as he looked at my neck. 

“I’m sorry! I heard screaming. I just wanted to help–”

A dark bitter laugh escaped him, “Of course, you just wanted to help. That’s how you justify everything, isn’t it? Get the fuck out of my room.” I got whiplash from the words leaving his lips. They paralyzed me for a moment. “I said get out!” Jason yelled. 

Waking me from my trance I ran out of the room. My heart pounding. Tears threatened to spill. I couldn’t get his words out of my head. 

Of course, you just wanted to help. That’s how you justify everything.

Have I become manipulative like my father? Using my righteousness as a shield thinking I’m better than him? When all along I was just the same. A cruel person using others to make myself feel better. Was that the root of my motivation? I didn’t know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

As if the universe heard my thoughts, a text popped up on my phone from a number I did not have saved. 

[Have lunch with me today. Your mother’s favorite spot. 12:30. Don’t be late.]

A cold bitter laugh left me. Today was going to be a fucking shit show. 

**************************************************************************************************

Jason ran a hand through his hair, over and over. Ever since he came back he had the same dream every night. Every night he relived the Joker beating him. Every night he felt the pain of coming back to life. Maybe that’s why it is so hard to forgive Bruce. To Bruce it’s linear, something that happened in the past. To Jason, it happened in the past but is also happening right now. 

Jason was used to the nightmares. The whole house was. At first they all came and comforted him. But each time Jason snapped. He said something that cut too deep. And eventually, the people stopped coming to comfort him. It was a blessing and a curse. Jason wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad they stopped coming. He didn’t want to hurt them, but he didn’t want to be scared and alone. But he never thought… he never thought that she would try and comfort him. 

Jason’s heart raced as he clutched his head in his hands. He had strangled her. What if he hadn’t woken up? What if he broke her neck? She needs to stay away from him. She is too good. Too pure of heart. If she was around him; his black decaying heart would make her own start to rot. He couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t hurt her again. 

No. Jason would have to push y/n away. That was the only answer.

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“I’m… I’m y/f/n. The healer Bruce hired,” I stammered. God how embarrassing. I could face a level one trauma without a blink of an eye but put a man fresh out of the shower in front of me, and apparently my mind turns to mush. 

“I figured,” he reached out a large hand; I took it. He nodded, “Jason Todd. If you wanted an introduction you could have asked, you didn’t need to tackle me.” 

“Pfft that was barely a nudge. A slight bump if you will.”

He pointed at one of his many bruises, “Look what you did to me! If that is your ‘slight nudge’ I’d hate to see a real tackle from you, y/n.” 

“Oh please, that bruise is at least three days old! You can’t pin that on me!” I tilted my head back and laughed. 

“New girl I can pin whatever I want on you. You tackled me, and bruised me before I got so much as a ‘hi, nice to meet you.’” 

“Hi Jason Todd, nice to meet you. Are you going to let me heal you or do you want to keep your injuries to seem mysterious and interesting?” I asked in a sweetly sarcastic manner. 

“First you bruised my body and now my ego, wow y/n,” Jason drew out the syllables of my name as if he was savoring them. 

“If you don’t take me up on my offer in three seconds I’m going to bed,” I said flatly. My tone might have indicated that I was serious but I knew that the threat was empty. 

Jason threw up his hands in surrender, “Yes ole mighty healer! Please have mercy upon me!” 

I rolled my eyes and started walking toward my room. Jason followed me.

“This is your room?” Jason asked, surprise lacing his tone. 

“Yes, why?” I asked, curious.

“It’s nothing.” 

I ignored his weird comment and sat on the edge of my bed. I motioned for Jason to sit next to me. I could have sworn I saw his eyes widen from across the room. He made his way over slowly as if hesitant.

The bed dipped as he sat down. He was a very large man. Practically a giant. With broad shoulders and thick thighs… okay nope. Not going down that route, you need to focus you pervert. I thought to myself. 

“So how do you do this? Do you wave your magic wand and make my owies go away?” Jason looked at me intently. The question was partly a joke, but I could tell he wanted a serious run down of how it works. Just as I was about to elaborate a fluff ball came hurtling out of nowhere.

Hashbrown practically parkoured herself onto Jason’s lap. Jason’s laugh was deep and smooth like dark chocolate and honey. He reached his hand out and let Hashbrown sniff before he began to pet her lightly. Soon the room was filled with her purrs.

“Who is this?” Jason asked, smiling.

“That attention whore would be Miss Hashbrown herself,” I huffed. 

Jason reached out a hand and grabbed Hashbrown’s front paw. I was shocked she let him. “Hello, Miss Hashbrown.” 

Okay wow. The inappropriate thoughts are going wild. There was something about a man being gentle and good with animals. 

I swallowed hard and focused myself, “In order to heal you I have to rest my hands against you. It works best with skin-on-skin contact but in emergencies, I can make it work through cloth. Or if you are more comfortable doing it through clothing we may do that as well.” I put on my professional Nurse voice which left little room for playfulness. 

I heard Jason clear his throat and then he nodded, “It’s fine. I’m okay with skin-on-skin.” I saw a faint blush in his cheeks as he said it. 

I rubbed my hands together trying to warm them for his comfort. I raised them slowly, “You might feel a slight tingling sensation like pins and needles. It should only last for a moment though. Are you ready?”

Jason nodded and I rested my hands against him. I closed my eyes and concentrated. There were bruises and cuts which I healed with little difficulty. But as I searched there was more, so much more.

“Wow you’re like an iceberg,” I mumbled.

“What?” Jason asked laughter in his tone.

“So much more beneath the surface.”

I felt him tense under my hands, “I guess you could say that.”

I couldn’t talk anymore. All of my energy was going into healing him. Rib fractures. Sprains. Bruised organs. A pinched nerve. Low iron. Low-grade fever. I healed and healed. My exhaustion grew. My eyelids felt like they were being weighed down by sandbags. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t lift my head. Distantly I felt myself leaning forward. But I lost consciousness before my forehead slapped against Jason’s shoulder.

***********************************************************

Jason’s hands quickly reached out to catch the girl as she fell towards him. It seemed like she passed out. Jason anxiously checked her pulse which was strong. She probably just needs some rest. He thought. Because whatever she did to him, Jason felt great. She went beyond the mild injuries and healed more than Jason could hope for. Instantly he was grateful. 

He gently eased her back onto her bed. He pulled up her blankets. He plugged her phone into the charger. And he shut off the light. He made his way out the door and into the neighboring room. His room. He and the healer were so close they shared a wall. A foreign feeling popped up for Jason. He liked that she was so close to him. He felt strangely protective of the stranger. It might just be because she healed him. Or maybe it was something else, something undefinable.

Jason banished other thoughts about her as he got dressed. Soon he made his way down the stairs and into the dining room. Where his entire family was yelling and arguing. Ah home sweet home. 

***********************************************************

A few days had gone by. I haven’t seen Jason since. I found much to my annoyance that I caught myself looking for him when I heard footsteps. Or thinking about him in my spare time. How embarrassing. You have one tension-filled healing sesh and all of a sudden you can’t think logically. 

I paced around the Batcave in my scrubs. I alternated between reading my book, doodling in my notebook, and texting Sam. 

[Girl if you don’t tell me more about Mr. Baddie Skunk I’m gonna have a freakout.] Sam texted me. 

[I literally told you everything. That was it.]

[He has to be hot for you to say something. Does he have social media? I wanna see this cutie patotie.]

[No, just no, you stalker.]

[I’m not a stalker. I’m looking out for my friend. I may also be curious but that is beside the point.]

I heard and felt the rumble of the Batmobile. [Ttyl. Duty calls.]

I stood in my healer’s station. I double-checked my supplies once, twice, three times before the Batmobile came screeching up. Bruce got out quickly, his cape snapping as he moved. He ripped open the rear door and leaned in. When he came out he held a whimpering Tim in his hands. 

I ran up to him with the gurney, “What happened?”

Suddenly Dick was beside me, ripping off his blue mask. “Poison Ivy released a noxious gas created from Manchineel. Tim took the brunt of it.” 

I raked my brain trying to remember the properties of Manchineel. In the hospital most of the time we just tell the patient to call poison control. It didn’t matter. Tim’s airway was the top priority. I rested my stethoscope against his chest as we wheeled him closer to the station. 

A high-pitched turbulent sound filled my ears. Fuck. Stridor. His airway was closing. 

“Bruce go into the red cart top drawer and grab an epi-pen now!” I yelled as I started cutting away his Red Robin suit. I hissed through my teeth when I saw red hives and blisters all along his skin. “Grayson grab saline and rinse his skin! Wear gloves when you do it!”

Bruce deftly handed me the pen and I stuck it quickly into the meat of Tim’s thigh. In a matter of moments, I saw Tim’s breathing even. I listened once again he was still wheezing but it was better than the stridor. Without wasting another minute I rested my hands against Tim’s chest. I ignored the remnants of gas that burned my hands. It took hours but I healed Tim completely. He still was in a deep sleep by the time I was done. His body needed rest. I patched up Bruce and Dick since they also got exposed. 

I felt sweat dripping down my back when I was done with everyone. 

“Here,” Dick said, handing me water, “drink this you look a little gray.”

I nodded and gripped the water. I winced, forgetting that I burned my hands. It wasn’t as bad as Tim’s by any means but the burns were second-degree and hurt like a bitch. 

Dick saw my wince and looked at my hands, “Oh shit! We should wash those off!”

“No shit Grayson.” A flat voice said from the distance. I recognized it instantly. Jason walked up to us, with supplies in his hands. He motioned for Dick to get up. He did and Jason took his spot. 

“Let me see.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

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Before I had time to register it a hand was outstretched near me. It nearly made me jump. The stranger cleared his throat and smiled, “Hello, I am Dick Grayson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

In an ungraceful motion, I put the napkin on the table and stood up to greet him properly. I took his hand in mine and firmly shook it. His hands were large, calloused, and a little clammy. It was almost like he was a little nervous to meet me. But that couldn’t be right. 

“Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson. I am y/f/n y/l/n,” I said, trying to make eye contact with him. Dick was an extremely handsome man. He was almost achingly pretty. With his soft blue eyes, dimples, and dark curly hair, he could definitely charm the pants off anyone if he really wanted to. 

His smile grew when our hands met. He just stood there for a moment looking at me, and then he pivoted to the side. He introduced Tim Drake and Duke Thomas. Tim was cordial and did the customary new person greeting, Duke was somewhat rambling. 

“Your powers are truly something to be admired, thank you so much for everything you have done,” Duke said as he excitedly shook my hand. 

I smiled at him and rubbed the back of my neck, “It’s really not that big of a deal but thank you, Duke. You guys are the ones that make the real change.”

Duke opened his mouth as if he were going to disagree, but a red-headed woman with glasses wheeled up to us and joined the conversation. 

“You boys are hogging her. Hello, I am Barbara Gordon. This is Cass, she doesn’t say much, and this is Stephanie, she says too much.”

I greeted them both, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of new people. I was trying my best to act ‘normal’ and be as social and charming as I could be. A younger boy who strongly resembled Bruce stood far away from me. He surveyed the room, taking in the reactions. He seemed so serious for his age. I wasn’t sure if I should make the introduction or not. 

“Where is Jason?” Bruce asked the room. 

“He is running late,” Dick said, “he said he had some ‘other shit that needed to get done first.’”

Faintly, I saw Bruce tense, but just as quickly as it came, it went. “Alright, everyone leave y/n alone and go sit down.”

On my right, there was Alfred, who felt my anchor to the world. On my left, there was Dick Grayson, who felt like he was trying to get me to smile and laugh every chance he got. 

The table soon became loud with conversations that finally were not about me. However, I felt eyes on me the whole night. Damian Wayne was across from me, staring at me the whole time like I was an intruder. 

“So, you are a healer,” Damian said, skeptically. 

I swallowed a bite of food and nodded, “I am.”

“What can you heal?” Damian asked, twirling his dinner knife in the air. 

“Flesh wounds, broken bones, blood loss, head injury, organ injury,” I trailed off not knowing what else to say. 

“How does it work?” His eyes narrowed at me.

“I’m not really sure. It’s as natural for me as breathing or blinking.”

“What are your–” Damien asked but then Bruce interrupted. 

“Son, you do not need to vet our guest. Let her enjoy herself.” 

Damien was suspicious of me and curious I wanted the boy to feel comfortable, “It’s okay, Bruce. It’s natural to be curious about it. What other questions do you have for me, Damien?’

“What are your limits?” Damien asked.

I felt the table go quiet. They all were curious and wanted to know my weaknesses. I instinctually did not want to answer, but I knew that if I wanted to be accepted I would need to be vulnerable and honest. 

“I cannot heal a majority of terminal illnesses. Spinal injuries can go one way or the other it depends on the severity. I cannot heal tumors. And…. and healing is draining. If I am not smart about it, I can make myself sick.”

“Sick how?” Dick asked, leaning in. 

“Well, it’s hard to explain. When I healed Bruce, it was after my shift at the hospital, I barely ate that day or slept the night before. So, when I put all that energy into healing him, it was exhausting. I nearly passed out on the ground next to him. When I got home, I slept for 16 hours straight. That is a more mild case though, it can get more… severe.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Bruce mumbled. 

The boyish charm on Dick’s face vanished, “How severe can it get?”

“Oh, you know tremors, fever, bloody noses, vomiting, seizures. It can get bad. I’ve learned my limits the hard way, but I’ve learned them. Growing up my limits were more extreme. I couldn’t heal a paper cut without getting a headache. Small stuff like cuts and bruises doesn’t bother me at all now though. It barely scratches the surface of my limits.”

“Prove it,” Damien said. 

“Excuse me?” I asked, annoyance filling my tone. I can handle his constant questions, but being told to prove it vexed me. 

“You say you can heal cuts and bruises without it ‘scratching the surface.’ Prove it. Prove you’re not a charlatan witch.” It was a movement for a boy too quick for his age he took his dinner knife and sliced along his own arm.

“Damien!” Barbara yelled. Dick leaped across the table but it was too late, blood was already pooling. Bruce and Alfred cursed. 

“Why did we allow Damien to have a knife at dinner?” Tim asked over the yelling. 

“Tim, do you really think we gave him that knife?” Bruce asked, incredulously. 

Anger surged as I slowly made my way around the table full of people yelling until I was in front of Damien. I glared at him as I rested my hands just above his cut. The room became silent as I healed him. The cut closed, and I replenished the blood that he lost. 

Damien looked at me, dumbfounded. The whole room did expect for Bruce and Alfred.

“It’s one thing to hear about it, but to see it… you really are a miracle.” Duke said the words and I flinched from them. 

I looked at Damien and let my anger show through. “I will not heal you if you pull something like this again. I don’t care how much your father pays me. I am not a monkey that will dance for you on a whim. Do not harm yourself to make a point or prove something again.” Damien angrily ripped his arm away from me. I didn’t care. It was unacceptable. He should never hurt himself intentionally like that just because he knows I can heal him. I turned and faced the room, “It was lovely meeting all of you. I hope you all have a nice evening, good night.”

And with that, I turned around and left for the night. Maybe I shouldn’t be as mad as I am right now, but I know I need a moment to myself. I heard light footsteps beside me as someone lightly jogged to catch up.

“I’m sorry about Damien we are still house-training him,” Dick said, trying his best to lighten the mood. 

I didn’t crack a smile, “It’s okay, Dick, really.”

“He can be intense sometimes, well we all can,” ever so lightly he reached up and grabbed my elbow, turning me so I faced him. “We are a lot. We are loud. We are sarcastic. We all think we are right all the time. We fight. We can be obsessive, protective, and socially inept. You will constantly have to patch us up–”

I shook my head, my eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You need to know exactly what you are getting into. It won’t be fair to you if you don’t know,” he said, absent-mindedly his thumb stroking the inner part of my elbow. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it, but I was acutely aware of it.

I just nodded, “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate the honesty. Besides, if I can handle my family, I can handle yours. Good night, Dick.”

“Of course, good night, y/n.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t have the energy for it. 

I walked toward my room, suddenly so exhausted. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, and accidentally ran into a wall. 

“Um excuse you,” a deep voice said.

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Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness. 

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off. 

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away. 

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him. 

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation. 

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father. 

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea. 

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. 

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me. 

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day 

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’ 

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta. 

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.” 

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.” 

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.” 

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.” 

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink. 

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.] 

One week later. 

 “How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him. 

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking. 

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me. 

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know. 

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly. 

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.” 

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him. 

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.” 

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing. 

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.” 

Bruce didn’t bother with a verbal response. He merely gave a curt nod. The sound of the elevator pinging and the door opening did not budge Bruce’s concentration from the computer. 

“Bruce, I’m back from Commissioner Gordon’s. The fingerprint is a dud. There are no matches in the criminal database,” Dick said, jumping into a rolly chair and sliding very loudly over toward Bruce. 

“That narrows it down, only about 25% of women in Gotham don’t have any form of criminal record,” Bruce muttered out loud. He didn’t particularly care if anyone heard. It moreso was for his train of thought. Bruce continued typing furiously, “I’ll check it against the other databases.”

Dick spun aggressively in his chair, “You got that fingerprint off your suit, right? What about the mask that was left?”

“The mask had been unused and freshly opened. There were some traces of fingerprints on that but my blood made them nearly impossible to ascertain,” Bruce said flatly. Bruce’s computer flashed with an oncoming message from Barbara. 

[The street cam footage was shaky, but I got a general description. She is about __ tall, with __ hair, and __ skin. It also appears that she is wearing a medical uniform that is issued for Gotham General Hospital. You’re welcome, Babs.]

Dick leaned so close to the computer that his and Bruce’s cheeks touched, “Wow I didn’t realize you brought in the big gun Babs. You want this girl found.”

Bruce tried not to smile at the ridiculous boy, “She saw my identity, Dick.”

Dick inhaled sharply through his teeth, “What are you going to do when you find her?”

A few ideas popped into Bruce’s mind, not all of them were legal. 

“He hasn’t got a clue, Master Dick,” Alfred said, spawning behind the two men, holding a silver tray with a bowl of Lucky Charms on it for Dick and a large black coffee for Bruce. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick said, taking the cereal, “I mean she saved your life, Bruce. She hasn’t told anyone your identity,” Dick said, feeling the odd need to defend this girl he has never met. 

“She could just be selling the information to the highest bidder,” Bruce said, sharply taking a glug of coffee. 

Dick held back from rolling his eyes. He looked at the monitor and stared at the girl. “She saved your life when she didn’t have to. I don’t think she would ruin it on a whim. Not every person is out to get you, Bruce.”

And with that Dick and Alfred left Bruce alone in the Batcave. 

Bruce took another long sip of his coffee and continued his search. A small smile, barely a smirk lifted on his lips. 

It was a good thing that healthcare workers needed to get fingerprinted. 

He found her. Now all he needed was a solid plan. 

************************************************************************

“Y/n please girl. Please, please, please, please, please,” Sam begged jokingly with her hands together. 

“Nope! No! I am not taking another patient with bed bugs! I took the last one for you and I felt itchy for a week. Besides I have my hands full with an IICP and a stabbing,” I said, wagging my finger at my friend. 

“Gah fine! Wish me luck. I’m manifesting that I have rancid energy that repels beg bugs but is very welcoming and kind to patients.”

I laughed at her, “When you figure out that ratio please let me know, babe.”

The rest of the shift went by quickly, and mostly uneventful. I healed the head injury enough that no surgery would be required. I healed that stabbing enough that he could go home stable the next day. I healed a gunshot wound. A sick two-year-old with a fever. And so on. By the time I was walking out the back of my eyes burned and my back throbbed. I needed to do some stretching. Maybe take a long bath with some Epsom salt and a dirty romance novel. 

My walk home was uneventful. I was grateful to see my apartment. I wanted to shower, sleep, and cuddle Hashbrown. 

I turned the key to my apartment and stepped my leg in to block an anticipatory escape plan from Hashbrown. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion when she did not greet me at the door. A sense of unease flooded my body and I rushed in.

“Hashbrown? Here kitty-kitty!” I yelled in my sing-song voice for her. The hairs on my neck stood up. Something about the energy in my home was different. It was charged. Slowly, I grabbed my pepper spray. With my other hand, I grabbed my phone. 

Out of the darkness, there was a twing of metal and my phone and pepper spray were on the ground. Quickly, I turned to run out the door. 

“I just want to talk,” a gruff voice said from the darkness. I fumbled my hand against the wall and flicked on the light. 

I tried not to laugh. 

Batman was in my living room, with my cat on his lap. Hashbrown, the traitor seemed completely enamored by him. Some guard cat she was. 

I walked casually to my kitchen, to my fridge. “Do you want anything to eat or drink, Batman? I have some leftover Thai food, some diet cherry vanilla coke, water, coffee, tea?” 

“None for me,” he said, his voice seemingly lower by the second. 

After my dinner was assembled I joined him on the couch. I faced across from him. “What do you want to talk about? And why the fuck did you feel like it was okay to break into my apartment?”

“You’re bold. Is it a front to hide your fear of me?” He asked as Hashbrown nuzzled against his sharp chin. 

I looked at him, almost annoyed, “Should I be afraid, Bruce?” 

“I guess that depends on your answer,” Bruce said, intentionally not finishing his statement. 

“If you want an answer you need to ask me a question,” my tone was sharp. My anger was surging. I just got off a thirteen-hour shift of a four-day stretch. I just wanted to eat, shower, and go to bed. But this oversized emo chicken was interrupting that. 

“What would you do if the world knew about your healing powers?” He asked, and my heart stopped. 

“What would you do if the world knew your identity, Bruce Wayne?” I practically hissed the last part. How dare he break into my apartment, pet my cat, and threaten me? 

“It would be the end of the Batman,” Bruce said.

I looked him dead in the eyes. I held no fear. I just showed him my true exhaustion. “If you’re worried about me telling anyone, I won’t. Call it personal morals or call it fucking HIPPA I don’t care. I’m not going to tell because you were my patient and I cared for you. End of story. Now get out of my house.”

“Would you like to work for me and my family?”

The offer caught me so off guard I almost got whiplash from it. “Excuse me?”

“You would be a permanent first responder that lived in the Wayne Manor full time. Full benefits. A salary ten times what you are making now. You will need to sign an employment contract and an NDA. Your cat of course can also live at the manor. Your services will just need to be available 24/7.”

My mind whirled, “Give me a week to think about it. Write a draft proposal and give it to me as soon as possible. To be frank, I do feel like this is a form of manipulation. You want to hold power over me by being my employer and having me sign an NDA. You want to keep a close eye on me so that you know what I’m doing, who I’m talking to, and what I’m saying. You do not trust that I will simply not say anything out of my own morality.” 

I saw a ghost of a smile on his face, “You’re smart. You will fit in well. I will have the draft in your mailbox by tomorrow. Goodnight, Miss Y/l/n.”

Before I could say anything, he was out the window and vanished into the night. 

I finished nursing school about a year ago. A lot of my peers used it as an out. They went to more stable cities in New Jersey that had better funding and less chance of getting knifed in the staff parking lot. I was one of the only ones that stayed. I definitely was the only one that worked in the hospital. I couldn’t deny the demand for nurses was high, and the paychecks were even higher at Gotham General Hospital. And maybe some small pathetic part of my brain wanted to make the world a better place. I wanted Gotham to be a better place. Every day I worked. I convinced myself that how matter how shitty it got; I was making a difference. Even if it was only a handful of people in the grand scheme of things. 

I could convince myself that I mattered. That everyone mattered. That these people deserve more. They deserve better; they deserve a second, third, fourth, fifth chance. If I stopped trying to convince myself of that I know I would give up entirely. Seeing gunshot wounds, stabbings, overdoses, mutilations, burns, crushings, poisonings, beatings, day after day is a lot like erosion of the soul. Little by little it wears you down. You become jaded and jagged with time. Empathy becomes blame. Hope becomes desolate. Love becomes anger. The only thing you can do is gaslight yourself into thinking you’re making a big enough difference. That you’re helping enough people. After all, the brain can’t tell the difference between truth and irony. You tell yourself so many lies, you can start to believe them, right? 

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

“Dad, when is mom coming home?” My small voice asked. I was scared to make Dad yell at me again. I didn’t like it when I made him yell.

“She’s got stage four fucking cancer she is coming out of the hospital in a body bag, y/n.” 

I fought the tears that burned behind my eyes. Dad would get even angrier if he saw them. It was stupid of me to even ask. 

I felt him turn to me. His eyes bored into my skull. Quickly, I looked down at his feet. 

“Have you tried again?” He asked. His tone clipped. I knew he expected a timely answer.

Involuntarily, my fingers ruthlessly picked the skin around my nails. The sting was grounding in a way. 

“No, sir. Well yes, I have tried, but I… I failed,” the last word felt like a hot poker being placed through my throat. 

“Look at me.” Breathing became difficult, but I looked up at my father. He leaned his face close to mine. I could smell Jack wafting off him. “What good are you? What good is having healing powers if you can’t heal your sick mother?”

The simple hangnail became a chunk of missing skin. I lowered my head. Fighting back tears. 

“Sir,” my traitorous voice wobbled as I tried not to cry, “I keep trying but… I don’t think my power is that strong. I can close cuts, fix broken bones, but tumors are… hard.”

My father tilted his head back and laughed. Hard. He grabbed my wrist as quickly as a viper, “If I could put your mother’s cancer in you I would. You’re about as useful as a wet match in a dark cave.” 

I couldn’t help the tears that fell down my cheek. It felt like I was involuntarily waving a white flag.

Gotham City: Present Day

I had to be stealthy with my gift. I couldn’t heal every one of the patients to full health right away. That would lead to suspicion. But if I could help it I could stop the major damage. I would heal internal organs. Replenish blood. Reduce ten fractures to two or one. It all depended on timing and if people were watching me. 

I was walking home from the hospital. I only lived about three blocks away. I got off shift at around 20:49. I didn’t start my next stretch for another three days. And I was milking my walk home. Stopping to smell the roses or whatever. That is normally not a very smart thing to do in Gotham at night, especially as a woman. But part of me didn’t care. 

Earlier, I looked at my phone and frowned when I realized the date. 

Thursday, May 19th. 

My mom died 16 years ago today. Waves of emotion flooded my senses. Anger at myself for not remembering. Sadness that she had been gone more of my life than she had been in it. Restlessness for what my father might do or say. Some years he likes to reach out. Others he doesn’t. But most of all I was feeling reckless. Like I wanted someone to give me a reason. Obviously, I would only hurt someone to defend myself or others. But there was so much anger living in my body, part of me hoped some idiot would try something with me tonight. 

So, I walked home. Slowly. 

Normally, you keep your head down and you keep moving. You don’t look or gawk. You listen out of necessity. I was listening just because I could. It was the normal stuff. Men smoking cigarettes and catcalling. Women were offering their nightly services. Random people either praising or damning superheroes. Drug deals. Graffiti artists. Fights. And of course, people who simply were walking home from work. Gotham had range and was never boring that’s for sure. 

But something picked up on the very edge of my senses. Despite my better logic, I turned toward the very quiet sound. It could have just been rats, but it sounded so familiar. It sounded like a death rattle. The thing you hear just before shit hits the fan and the patient codes. 

Without thinking I ran down the alley toward the sound. At first, it was nothing. Just trash and rats. But then I saw it. He almost blended perfectly in with the shiny black garbage bags. His cape was the same color but reflected the light less. 

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” I walked hesitantly forward, grabbing my pepper spray just in case.

The man did not answer, he only garbled and coughed. My work brain took over my fear. Instantly I rolled the man over and began assessing him. I suppressed a gasp when I rolled him over and a familiar cowl mask came into view. It was cracked down the middle. His face was bleeding from an unknown location. His breathing was labored and staggered. 

Calmly, I closed my eyes and pressed my hands against his chest. 

Oh yeah. Batman was dying. He had several broken ribs. A pneumothorax. A bruised liver, kidney, and pancreas. His cardiac output was a joke. The man had no perfusion. 

I didn’t think. I didn’t hold back like I do at the hospital. I just healed. And healed. And healed. I healed him down to his bone-on-bone knees, sprained ankle, and fractured wrist. 

God, this guy had a lot of injuries. 

I was close to passing out by the time I was done. I had done too much, ate, and slept too little. My powers were demanding when it came to energy. If I didn’t eat or sleep within 30 minutes I was about to pass out next to bat boy himself.

I gave him one last assessment. After double-checking that he would live and that I didn’t miss anything I finally looked at his face again. 

This time I gasped. Batman was the billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne? I shook my head like I was clearing cobwebs. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Much like Batman, I didn’t want people to know what I could do. The last time people knew…

Just as I turned and took a few steps I rolled my eyes at my nagging thoughts. 

What if someone sees him before he wakes up?

Reaching into my tote bag I pulled out a black medical mask. I not so gracefully MacGyvered it across his exposed face so that it was covered. And with that, I made my way home.

My cat, Hashbrown, eagerly greeted me at the door. I nearly fell asleep locking it. I bent down to pick her up and gave her a kiss on her perfect little cat head. I ripped my gross work scrubs off, threw them in the wash, and crashed on the couch in my underwear before my brain could process what happened.

I healed Batman. 

I healed… Bruce Wayne?