Lily of the Sword Writings

You were ready for a break. You understood that you were making up for past transgressions, killing demons and the like. Had you really been that terrible to deserve back-to-back tasks for the past few months? You hadn’t thought so, but you supposed most other hunters felt the same, and you had been forced to work with some of the most narrow-minded people. Spirit World had their reasons, you guessed.

Footsteps broke through your thoughts, quiet and purposefully loud enough to get your attention. You know who it was.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet,” Kurama chuckled.

“I’d like to hope you know me better than that,” you said, pushing yourself away from the wall. Your back threatened to rebel. “So, where are we headed to this time?”

“It’s not far from here.”

“Yeah? Where exactly?” You eyed him, trying to keep your face free of suspicion.

“All in due time,” he smiled and gestured for you to follow him. “Now come on. We don’t want to miss the train.”

Shrugging, you fell into step with him. You should be used to this by now.

You boarded the train. It was fairly crowded, but not so much so that the two of you couldn’t find a handle overhead to hold. Kurama took the one closest to you, presumably so you all could discuss the mission without too much interference. The older woman sitting in the seat across from you glanced up, studying the two of you before returning to her book. 

The doors closed, and the train left the station.

The quiet murmur of the fellow passengers and gentle sway of the car normally would be enough to lull you to sleep. You were thankful to be standing, though your feet disagreed with your decision. There was less chance of you passing out. And even if you did, Kurama would probably swoop in as he had been recently. Sometimes it felt more like he was babysitting than actually assisting you.

Shaking your head, you leaned in closer and kept your voice low. “So are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

His forearm brushed yours as he did the same. “Not far. Perhaps 30 minutes away.”

“That close? You’d think we would have noticed something sooner…”

“Not necessarily,” he mused. “This is more of a low-priority mission. Telltale signs could be more low-key.”

“Hmm… I suppose… But what are we looking for?”

“Classified, I’m afraid.” He smiled apologetically.

“Okay… What level of manifestation or entity are we dealing with?”

“Also, classified.”

Figures. Always classified.

You chewed your lip in frustration, a bad habit of yours. This wouldn’t be the first time Kurama had kept information from you. You had a habit of jumping ahead once you thought you knew everything, but you had been working on that. You were extra careful when the two of you had to infiltrate a hotel run by a low-level demon, keeping an open mind and eye for extra details. If you hadn’t, the other demons hiding out would have gotten the drop on you and more human souls would have been eaten. That had to count for something, right?

But this… This felt different. 

“Okay. Let’s take a step back.” You fixed him with a steely stare. “How can so many details be classified? It’s a low priority and coupled with possibly harder-to-sense signs, that could mean what we’re up against is on the weak side. What aren’t you telling me?”

Kurama hummed and pulled away with a smug smile.

You little—

You glared at him, not noticing the extra sway in the train car. You pitched forward. Kurama’s free arm wrapped around your waist, preventing your inevitable face plant.

“Careful. Are you alright?” he said.

“Y-Yeah. Thanks,” you responded, righting yourself.

His fingers twitched at your side before finally releasing you. He nodded and returned to his neutral position.

Again with that, the hesitation. Especially in moments where he was protecting you. Whether it was pulling you to the side to get out of sight of your target, covering you from a rather ferocious youki blast, or just a light hand to your lower back to guide you down the right path, he always stayed in contact for a hair longer than necessary. 

“Of course,” he replied coolly. 

Guess that’s the end of that conversation.

Silence fell over you. Every now and then, you would venture a glance at him. The closer to your stop, the more fidgety Kurama became. Kurama never fidgeted. 

What could possibly make him so… Nervous? Anxious? Those weren’t words you would have ever used to describe the scarlet-haired man. Could he have been lying to you about this mission? Was the target overpowered to the point where he was worried for your all’s safety? No, that couldn’t be it. But what could it—

Kurama’s fingers were on your chin, his thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. 

“You’ll chew a hole if you’re not careful,” he said in a near whisper.

His stare was intense, like it would bore through you. He grazed your lip in a soothing motion.

A quiet but pointed cough sounded from a seat in front of you. An older woman stared pointedly.

This was the one time he didn’t hesitate to pull away. Neither of you looked at each other for the rest of the trip.

The unique chime of the station resonated through you. Where had you heard that one before?

Kurama motioned toward the open doors. This was your stop. He wasn’t waiting for you to reminisce over the melody. He was already off the train by the time you released the handle. You rushed after him, stopping after exiting to catch which way he went.

Just as you were about to chase after him, something tapped your heel. The senior woman from the train was nudging you with her cane.

“Don’t keep them waiting any longer,” she wheezed and winked, motioning toward Kurama.

She left suspiciously quickly before you could come up with a rebuttal. 

What was that about?

“Are you coming?”

You whipped around. 

Kurama had finally stopped and was waiting for you. He had a curious look on his face, like he was gauging your reaction. But what exactly?

“Y-yeah.”

You jogged over to him, trying to rid yourself of a creeping sensation you couldn’t quite place. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

His brow was furrowed with what seemed to be genuine worry. 

You nodded quickly. “Just… Something about all of this. This isn’t a normal mission, is it?”

“No,” he said, smiling at you sheepishly.

And all you could see was little Shuu-chan. That was the day you had finally coaxed him to climb up the tallest tree at the park with you. It was supposed to be a race to the middle, and he had beaten you with ease. At the time, you couldn’t understand why he smiled at you like that.

Kurama cleared his throat. “We should get moving.”

Nodding, you jogged after him. This time he waited for you to reach his side before setting off again.

He guided you down the streets that were filled with little shops, their signs begging you to stop in for a cup of coffee, a yakitori skewer, a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t too dissimilar from the main city. It was at least much less overstimulating. Here, you could pick out distinct smells and sounds as you kept a quick pace next to Kurama, instead of them all melding together into some incomprehensible cocktail. It was… Nice. 

The shops and sidewalks bled away, leading you toward the actual suburbs. It was comfortingly quiet. The most people you saw were a few individuals on their balconies, hanging up laundry to dry. It brought you a level of peace only felt in a distant memory, one you didn’t want to ruin.

“There is no mission, is there?” you asked, barely allowing your voice to raise over the hum of air conditioners from each passed home.

“No.”

You side-eyed him, trying to figure out just what he was up to. Kurama continued to look ahead, his lips plastered in a stony straight line. His eyes were another story. They seemed to sparkle. 

Is he… Excited about this?

Staring ahead, you allowed him to lead you further. The fox-demon-turned-human had never led you astray before. Why would he now?

Eventually, he stopped in front of a home. Beyond the wall bordering it, you could see a tiny, neatly manicured yard, similar to the rest of the homes you had walked past. 

Kurama turned to you, the mirth in his eyes gone. “Stay behind me until I signal.”

The stark contrast in his mood caused your throat to tighten. All you could do was nod.

You followed him down the path to the door and stayed directly behind him as he rang the doorbell.

”Mother, it’s me,” Kurama spoke into the intercom.

Heh? Mother? Shi-Shiori?! I—Has something happened to her? Is that why this isn’t a sanctioned mission? But… He’d be much more anxious about it, wouldn’t he?

The door opened.

“Oh, Shuuichi! Welcome home.”

“Hello, Mother. I was hoping you were here.”

He knew she would be home. He doesn’t leave anything up to chance. What is going on?

“You could have called,” she teased.

“I was trying to surprise you,” he chuckled.

I can’t sense anything off. Everything seems so… normal.

“Actually, I wanted you to meet someone,” he said.

“Oh?” His mother’s voice held a tinge of excitement.

Wait.

He stood aside, leaving you in full view of his mother. She was just how you remembered her. Maybe with a few more laughing lines and grey hairs, but it was still her. The same woman who held an overly serious Shuu-chan’s hand as they came to the park. Your heart swelled into your throat.

She gently smiled at you, clearly happy that her son had brought someone home. There was just one problem: she looked at you like she had never seen you before. And still your heart wouldn’t budge.

“Or rather, reintroduce someone,” Kurama said softly.

His palm settled on your lower back, pushing you forward gently before revealing your name.

Shiori gasped sharply. Her hand covered her mouth, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

Eh… She’s going to— Shuu-chan, what do I— I don’t— 

You did the first thing that came to mind. You bowed. You bowed and spewed something about it being nice to meet her again. You couldn’t remember exactly what.

Hands gingerly pressed into your shoulders, guiding you to stand. The tears were freely streaming down Shiori’s face now. Her arms flung around you, those tears spattering onto your clothes like you were on the outskirts of a waterfall.

Phantom smoke filled your nostrils as she held you. It was just like when she had bundled you and her son to her after Shuu-chan had pulled you out of your burning home. Her relief soaked into you, but this was different from when your aunt and uncle had held you back then. There was no pity or sympathy for you losing your family mixed in. This was joy, joy that you were alive, safe, and well. This was…

You didn’t spare him a glance, but you knew Kurama was smiling. You hugged his mother back, clearing your senses and falling back into place. 

Where is— No… This can’t be, right?

Sitting up, every ache and pain the came with laying in bed for too long hit you like a bag of bricks. The blanket that had been covering you fell to your lap. And there was the draft you had expected. Shivers wracked your body.

If this really is the Bat Cave, how does that man not get sick from being here.

Then again, you had stayed in worse locations during your hunting excursions years ago. You managed to stay healthy. Relatively. Wounds notwithstanding.

Heavy, hurried footsteps sounded through the cave. Despite your theory, you weren’t taking any chances. You swung your legs and tried to stand, only to be caught by the IV drip you hadn’t felt mere moments before. Cursing to yourself, you pulled at the medical tape holding the needle in place.

“Don’t.”

You stopped. Theory confirmed. You turned, looking behind you as much as your sore muscles would allow. Batman may as well have sprinted towards you. He replaced the tape, calloused fingers smoothing out the material with the utmost care. He— He wasn’t wearing his gloves. Or his utility belt. Or his cape. Just his barebones suit, boots, and cowl.

There was nothing you could bring yourself to say as he rounded the bed, pulled your legs back on it, and coaxed you to lay down. It wasn’t until the head hit the pillow that you finally spoke.

“I… Umm… Thanks… This is comfier than the gurney.” Your voice held a raspy, disused quality.

Batman nodded and stared. It was almost like he didn’t know what to say. Almost.

“Hey, are you…” you started. “Are you… okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” he replied without missing a beat. 

You shrugged playfully. “Says the one who needed rescuing.”

He pursed his lips, forcing himself not to play into your banter. You wished he would have. It was better than the silence that hung heavy in the air, weighing down on you both, the uncomfortable stare, and the curiosity that got the better of him.

“Are you?”

“Y—Yeah…” You sighed and broke eye contact. “Just… Dreamt of what could have been.”

Batman nodded somberly, understanding. “Who were they?”

Were they just part of the dream?

“My partner… Jesse… They were real. We got together when I tried to retire from hunting before…” Your throat threatened to clamp down on your esophagus. “Before Benton.”

“And the boy?”

You sat up, bringing your knees to your chest. “Torrence was the boy we were going to adopt. After Jesse… I couldn’t finish the adoption process. It wouldn’t have been fair to Torrence…”

More silence.

You wanted to ask. It was only fair right? 

Batman shifted on his feet before decidedly sitting on the bed. His head tilted, his gaze on the floor. “I saw my family… What would— What could have happened if they had lived. If my father had fought against the mugger and won.”

Oh… Oh.

“And what made you leave all of that?” you half whispered. What tipped you off that it wasn’t real?

He thought for a moment. “It felt… like a gilded cage. I had my parents and no one else... Then, there was you.”

Uncurling yourself, you raised your head. “Me?”

“Yes.” He lifted his gaze to meet yours. “There was a gala at the university for the Archeology Department. You were there to accept the donations.”

“Wh—”

“You were the head of the department.”

“Oh…”

He nodded. “That was when everything came together.”

You both sat there, swallowed by phantom echoes. Where did you go from here? You knew too much about each other. You knew Batman’s identity. Parents being mugged and killed in Gotham was nothing outlandish. Most of the city forgot these even within weeks. But his… Bruce Wayne’s story had been, and still was, publicized by the media. His public identity was dependent on his family’s tragedy. Batman with all his tech, his motivations — They all made sense now.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you breathed.

“I know.”

There was no malice, no threat behind his words. He believed you. He trusted you. 

Your partner was the only one in your view. Their palms held your cheeks gently, neither warm nor cold. They merely existed. Their eyes were the same, filled with what was barely the essence of worry. Had they tried a little more, even just a swipe of a thumb over your cheek, you might have allowed yourself to believe this was real.

Shaking your head, you pulled back. The room housed a handful of people in scrubs. They looked like regular people, nothing memorable or extraordinary, as forgettable as a single person in a crowded city street.

“Babe, it’s okay. Look at me,” your partner pleaded.

You wouldn’t.

You tore the sheets off your form and stood, much to the dismay and surprise of the orderlies and nurses.

“You— You need to lie down.”

“You have a concussion.”

“Your leg—”

Scoffing, you unraveled the bandages encasing you. There was nothing. No head injury. No cuts, bruises, or broken bones. Nothing but the old scar singeing your thigh.

Your partner reached out, brushing your elbow. It was all they could do. You dodged their advance cooly.

“Babe, you need to lie back down.”

You held out your hand. “Keys.”

Their jaw dropped. “You— But you were in an accident.”

“Now.” Your tone allowed for no arguments.

When no one moved, you clicked your tongue. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t real. It was a dream. Your dream. And you would be damned if you weren’t going to be in control. 

You knew where you needed to go. Closing your eyes, you imagined the wharf and the old building, the chains and rusty gurneys, a hanging Batman and gear tossed on the floor. The air rushed around you. The scent of mold and salt filled your nostrils. 

You opened your eyes and were greeted with the sight of the Dark Knight. Although, he wasn’t bound like he was in the waking world. He stood, swaying on his feet, ready to collapse.

He called out your name, and his knees gave away. You rushed to him, barely reaching him in time. You struggled to keep him upright.

“Listen, big guy,” you huffed under his weight. “You opened my eyes, so to speak.”

His body only allowed a wheeze of a grunt in response.

You continued, “Now it’s your turn.” You shifted him, making it a little easier to keep him standing.

Batman’s head hung low. He felt even heavier.

“No! No, you don’t get to give up. Not now,” you pleaded. Your muscles strained, scar screaming. You couldn’t keep this up much longer. “You have to wake up. Please.”

“Babe,” Jesse’s soft voice washed over you.

“Wake up,” you tried again.

“Babe, don’t fight it.” 

Jesse touched your shoulders. You flinched away, burying yourself into Batman’s form.

“Wake up.”

“You were happy here. You still can be.”

He was right. You could be. You could live the life you should have had, the life you wanted before it was ripped away from you.

“Wake up.”

Batman grunted. His arms reached around you as he regained his footing. “Better— Better see you there.”

And he was gone. 

You were alone with Jesse. You could feel him behind you. He gently grasped your arms. The smooth, void touch sent waves of prickles across your skin.

“Don’t leave us.”

A smaller pair of arms latched around your waist. That just wasn’t fair. 

A rock settled in your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut so tight, you can see white dots swim under your eyelids.

Grunts, curses, thumps, cracks — The sounds of a fight echoed around you. Slowly, you allowed yourself to look around. It’s all a blur. Streaks and red and blue along with one other darker figure danced across your vision. You blinked to clear it. It didn’t help. Nor could you sit up. Scoffing, you wiggled against the tight bonds that secured you to a flat, hard surface. The old gurneys… But maybe. If you could just— Shifting your weight little by little, you felt the gurney rock back and forth. Not that it helped much. 

“Don’t,” a gravely voice coughed nearby.

You blinked hard, managing to clarify your vision. It was him. He was awake. He was free.

At your side, Batman allowed the gurney to support him as he tugged at and released the leather strapped to your wrists. As he leaned over, his physical state was clear as day. He needed to get out of here. His hands trembled as they worked. Sweat droplets clung to the multiple days worth of jaw stubble. His breath came out it hot, harsh bursts. The gashes littering his body were concealed with dried blood, and you prayed to anyone listening that his wounds were not infected. 

He moved onto to your legs, allowing you to finally sit up. You watched and waited as Nightwing and Red Hood tag teamed the Djinn like dance partners who had been practicing for years together. You almost smiled when you noticed Red Hood’s firearms still in their holsters. He really was starting to get along with the others.

A shadow flashed in the corner of your eye. There were two…

“Behind you!” you gasped and reached out to Batman.

He wasn’t fast enough. The second Djinn was inches away from putting Batman into another coma. 

A silver flash shot across the room. The Djinn stumbled backwards. You dagger was implanted in its shoulder. Red Hood let out a grumpy, yet satisfied grunt before returning to his own fight, slamming a foot into his Djinn’s sternum.

Batman nearly lost his balance when spun around to face his assailant. You were pretty sure you heard what could only be described as a feral growl from him. It was like it gave him a boost. You could almost see the adrenaline surge through him. He sank into his knees and vaulted into the creature, shoulder first. It flew backward, a choking cough ringing out from it. Batman snatched up a strand of chains that had been used on him, flipped over the Djinn, and captured it.

Another roar tore your attention away. Nightwing had just kicked the other Djinn towards Red Hood who laid out a vicious head butt. That Djinn froze on its feet, a tiny trickle of blood growing on its forehead, before collapsing to its knees and then face.

You nearly ripped the last of the straps off your legs and hit the floor. Batman was kneeling now, breathing so heavily anyone could have heard him on the next floor down. His form swam in front of you. You shook your head to chase away the lightheadedness. It didn’t work out so well. You landed next to him, your arm on his shoulder holding you up.

“You good, B?” you asked.

Before he could answer, Nightwing was pulling you away and helping you to your feet. Red Hood was busy pulling Batman’s arm over his shoulder and hauling him up.

“Wha— Wait—”

A cell phone rang on Jesse’s side of the bed. They groaned and answered it. You shut your eyes and pretended to sleep. They kept their voice low to not wake you, but you knew what was being said. It was a Saturday and they were being called into work on some emergency. Well, at least it was less of a chance for them to find you out.

They hung up, rolling over to nudge you. “Hey, babe. Wake up.”

“Mmmm,” you feigned drowsiness.

They huffed amusedly. “I have to go into the office today. Are you okay taking Torri to his friend’s party today?”

You frowned internally. You didn’t remember any party today.

Peeling your eyes open, you breathed, “Yeah… What time, again?”

“One. At Amusement Mile.”

“Heh?” You shot up. “Why there? That’s where—”

Jesse leaned in and pulled you to them into an awkward embrace. “Where, what? That’s where kids have parties and fun? You act like its a criminal hangout.” They laughed when you scrunched your nose. “You’ve got to be joking. Babe, it’s just an amusement park. It’s been around for years. It’ll be great!”

You just nodded. They kissed your temple and left to get ready for work.

Later that day, you got Torrence ready to go and in the car. The drive was fairly quiet, only hearing the road noise and your son playing with a toy in the back seat. He was the one to break the silence.

“Do you think Adrian will like the gift we picked?”

“Of course, she will,” you smiled, glancing into the rear view mirror. “Why wouldn’t she?”

He bounced his heels on the back seat. His bottom lip puckered out in thought. “I mean… She likes Batman… A lot. But she has a lot already.”

“Bat…man?”

Torrence gasped, “You don’t remember Batman?”

He immediately went into describe him, hands going up to show the pointed ears on the cowl, but you couldn’t hear him. Your ears deafened with a loud ringing. You looked up in the rear view mirror and saw him. Batman, still battered, was sitting in the back seat. And he was staring right at you. You turned your body to face him. Nothing was there. Just your son who froze, hands in the air, with a look of terror on his face.

A horn honked angrily. Twisting back, a car going the opposite lane was in your lane. Or rather, you were in theirs. You wrenched the steering wheel to the side, veering away from the car and off the road.

You slinked through the shadows of the warehouses along the wharf. Graffiti littered the building exteriors.You could not afford to be caught by one of the gangs who called this home or what you were hunting.

Maybe you should have told one of the vigilantes you were going to be here or tried to get one to come with you. No. That wouldn’t have worked. They would have never let you leave your apartment if you said anything. They were definitely products of the Bat. You shook your head as you rounded the corner.

There it was. You saw an old ship repair building up ahead. It was the one you had found on one of Gotham’s older maps. Newer ones didn’t include it. The gangs didn’t go near the shabby former business. It was the only one not covered with grotesque spray-painted words and symbols. You made your way inside through a window void of glass.

Much to your dismay, you had to use a flashlight to see anything. The smog was too heavy a filter to let any natural light the moon may have provided. You hoped this didn’t alert your prey. Unsheathing your silver blade in your unoccupied hand, you used it to steady the flashlight beam.

Everything seemed untouched, layers of dirt and sand on the equipment and a constellation of dust in the air. That is… Until you reached the highest floor.

Abandoned boxes of office furniture had been shuffled about. They had left a clear trail across the wooden flooring so desperately in need of sweeping. Rusted gurneys laid strewn about while chains swayed from the ceiling. Your thigh pulsed in time with the chains. It was here. You needed to get to Batman quick. But where was he?

You stuck to the walls, keeping your back against them. A set of double doors settled just down a nearby hall. Your throat constricted. The hairs on your arms stood on end. This was a terrible idea. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you began your power walk down the hall. When you reached the doors, you stopped. No ambush… Yet.

You tried to peer through the glass panels, but the grime and dirt only blockaded your flashlight’s beam. You nudged one of the doors. No squeaks from the hinges. Steeling yourself, you slowly pushed the door open, ready for the old metal to whine. It never happened. You slid past the threshold, gently letting the door fall closed.

There he was.

His gadgets and most of his armor had been strewn about the room. For his sake, his cowl remained on him. Batman was chained, beaten, his suit ripped and torn. A butterfly needle was stuck to his leg, blood slowly drifting through the connected tube and into a sealed container. He was left to dangle from ceiling… In the middle of the room. Cold sweat beaded along your forehead.

Bait.

Yes. You were 100% regretting your decision to come alone.

Your phone had shown no missed calls, but Torrence’s phone clearly showed outgoing calls to you and then Jesse when you didn’t answer. Your stomach churned with every step at the thought of, for all intents and purposes, forgetting your son. 

I shouldn’t be a parent… I’m terrible…

You bit your lip as you placed the dishes in the sink. Your limbs itched with a strangely familiar feeling to run. Run and no one will get hurt again. You shook your head vigorously. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

“Babe, let me worry about this. Go relax. You’ve been moving nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut off your partner. “No, I just— I need to do this.”

They paused a moment before pulling your hands from the sink and turning you around, forcing you to look at them.

“Hey,” they started gently. “We’re not mad, you know. We’re just worried about you. Don’t beat yourself up over one day.”

You gazed into their eyes, hoping to see what made their words feel… Well, you weren’t sure exactly. They weren’t… It didn’t feel right. You couldn’t find it.

Torrence took this moment to fling his arms around you. “We just want you to be okay.”

A lump in your throat formed and bobbed. They were trying to make you feel better. But that was exactly it. They were saying what you wanted to hear but… It wasn’t… Wasn’t genuine. It was hollow, hollow like their eyes. 

You hugged them back. 

Later that night, you found yourself flipping the medallion between your fingers, attempting to let the cool clay ground your mind. You had made sure Torrence was tucked into bed extra well and teasingly did the same for your partner before settling into your office. You still had work to do. You had to finish this project and presentation. It was your chance to move up the ladder and be next in line for the Archeology Department Head.

But that dream…

Those two men, Nightwing and Red Hood. How did you know them? And who the hell was Batman?

No. Not the time for that. Focus.

Your thumb skimmed over one of the symbols, one of your nails catching in the grooves as you traced it. You know this, but from where? You stood and went to the bookcases and stacks to rummage through your collection again.

You checked the shelves one more time. Nothing. Stepping back to survey the spines, you jumped as a book stack toppled over. Dust plumed as the books hit the floor. Had this been in an office at the university, you’d be embarrassed by the mess. Sighing, you kneeled and began picking up the books. One of which caught your eye. A leather-bound tome laid near. You lifted the book into your lap for a better view. Your thigh twinged in response.

Could this be…

You stood, letting out a small grunt as you did. Your leg seared with the motion. You made haste to your seat. With the medallion in hand, you scoured the handwritten pages. Deep within the tome, you found what you were looking for: Symbols that matched the medallion, symbols that told its story. To you, it was more akin to an amulet.

Silence. Conceal. Shield.

The dull pain in your thigh surged into an electric shock. The amulet snapped in your grip. Its pieces fell to the table. You panted, clutching your leg, willing the misery to cease.

Just breathe… Deep and slow…

Your eyes clenched closed, and instead of seeing darkness, there was the inside of an old warehouse. In front of you, an older man stood grinning. His hair was shockingly white, and he had dichromatic eyes. There were patches of stitched skin running along his face. The most concerning part was the rusted scalpel in his hand. His name came to you in an instant — Doc Benton.

What is this? It feels…

The pain left as suddenly as it came, leaving only a ghost of its former self, and you were able to open your eyes. You flexed your fingers and massaged your thigh. Through your pajamas, you could feel a raised scar running down from your hip to your knee.

What? 

You wrenched up your pants leg to find nothing. Rubbing your fingertips against the skin, it was smooth. Other than some stretch marks that had grown over time, there was nothing. Releasing the fabric, your hands came up to cradle your face. Maybe you were getting sick. That had to be it. Right? You snapped the tome shut and left your desk. It was time for bed. 

As your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, you heard it. 

Clomp. CLOMP.

You shook your head.

No. Not this again. It’s not real.

You decidedly fling the door open. There was nothing to be afraid of. Unless you’re afraid of looming, bulky men dressed as bats.

There he was again, the man from the night before. 

“Batman,” you whispered the name echoing in the back of your mind. Deep down you knew it was right.

Your body froze while your mind raced at a staggering speed.

He’s not— He can’t be. But he’s right there. Can a hallucination be this realistic? 

You could see every spec of stubble on his jaw, hear every hoarse, heavy breath, smell every bit of sweat clinging to him. Overwhelmed, you stumbled away only for him to pull you back. Despite his beaten appearance, his grip on your wrist was bruise inducing. It grounded you.

He mumbled your name. It sent a shockwave through you.

“Well, consider those bags under your eyes punishment,” they teased.

“Ha. Ha. Don’t you have an office to go to?”

“Don’t you?” they quipped.

You started to nod in the direction of the hall where your study lay when you noticed something. There was a third setting at the kitchen table, a third setting with a full plate of untouched food.

“Where’s Torrence?”

Your partner hummed in question. You only had eyes for the plate.

“I said, ‘Where’s Torrence?’”

“Umm, he’s at school,” they replied matter-of-factly.

You shook your head as if that would clear the fog that had into your mind. “But then why—”

“We were just downstairs like fifteen minutes ago to see him onto the bus. Don’t you remember?”

Right… You did that every morning. At least, that’s what your brain was telling you. So… Why couldn’t you recall any memories of doing so?

Your partner’s hand coaxed you to look at them. Their eyes swam with worry and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t catch anything from staying up late, did you?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…”

You pulled away, ready to ask a question about the food when the words lodged themselves in your throat. The plate was gone. It was as if it had never existed in the first place. And the mug? It was filled with a hot, viscous liquid akin to dirty oil. The putrid smell invaded and set up camp in your nostrils.

“Umm… Actually, I think I’m gonna lay back down for a bit,” you spoke airily, rising to your feet just a hair too fast.

Your partner was quick to rebalance you. “Do you— Do you want me to stay? I- I can call out and—”

“No!” you cut off their rambling. “No, it’s fine. It’s just some fatigue. A quick nap and I’ll be back to normal.”

They squeezed your shoulders in an act of reassurance, to ground you. All you felt were creepy-crawlies in the wake of their touch.

When your partner was finally out the door, you shivered and frantically rubbed your arms as though you were brushing bugs off your skin. Why had all this felt so wrong?

Yeah… Sleep was the best thing for you right now.

A rhythmic tap sounded from your window. You padded across the floor to answer. Drawing back the curtains, you found a different man in skin tight black and blue suit. It reminded you of a gymnast’s costume. The man perched on the fire escape expectantly. You opened the window.

“Thanks! Do you have a minute? I need to pick your brain.” He sounded cheerful, but there was an edge to it. 

“I guess. Come on in,” you replied.

You stepped aside to allow one of the city’s many vigilantes into your home. 

“So, uh…” you folded your arms awkwardly, “You have me… Concerned. Bats is usually the one asking questions. Maybe the little one. Robin, right? And Nightiwng is a Bludhaven guy. What could possibly bring you here?”

“Nothing to worry about,” he attempted to laugh. He stood tall in the middle of your shabby, dimly lit living room, but nothing about his stance exuded the confidence you had come to know from any of Batman’s crew. “Just wanted to ask you something.”

The pain in your thigh pulsed. “Right…” You frowned as you plopped onto the couch. “Alright, then. Ask away.”

“Well,” Nightwing cleared his throat. “I know Batman has been coming to you for your insight on some of the stranger happenings—”

A disgruntled, distorted grunt came from the as it slid open. A familiar red helmet came into view as another man entered your home.

“B’s missing. You seen him recently?” Red Hood got straight to the point.

Nightwing clicked his tongue. “No tact.”

“You’re one to talk,” Red Hood rounded on him. “What was that just now?

“I was trying to breech the subject more gently.”

“Gently? We don’t have time for—”

“Boys!” you interjected.

They stopped, straightening themself attentively.

“As bad as the Winchester boys,” you mumbled to yourself. However, you did have to admit you were pleased to see that Red Hood had warmed up to the other vigilantes… At least to the point of not pulling a gun on them.

“Who?” they chimed in unison.

You rubbed your temples. “Don’t— Don’t worry about it. Look, he was here the other night.”

Babe?

Your thigh began to throb again. 

“What for?” Nightwing asked. 

“The East-End victims.”

The blue vigilante rubbed folded his arms across his chest. “East-End… He never told us he was working that case.”

Babe? Wake up!

“That checks out,” Red Hood chimed in. “You know how B is when someone else gets hurt.”

Nightwing cleared his throat nervously. “I wasn’t there for that one. Was it really that bad?”

“Red Robin nearly had his throat ripped out by a nest of vampires,” you deadpanned. “This case does have some similarities.”

“Oh…”

BABE!

You jolted, eyes popping open. 

The sunset streamed into your bedroom window only to be blocked by Jesse who was hovering over you.

“Jeez, you had me worried. I’ve never known you to sleep like the dead before,” they breathed a sigh of relief.

You’ve been a light sleeper ever since… Ever since what?

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay? Have you been asleep all day?”

You blinked, scanning the room. Those two men were nowhere to be found…

“It’s so late that it just can’t be my little bug who should be in bed. It must be a ghost. Maybe if I close my eyes, that little ghost will go back to sleep.”

You closed your eyes and turned back towards the desk to allow your son his chance to escape. Your chair rocked again as a tiny pair of lips smacked your cheek.

“Night night!”

You didn’t dare open your eyes until the sounds of his feet padding against the linoleum crossed the threshold into the hall. 

“Good night, Torri!”

That was when you found your partner Jesse leaning against the doorframe with a dopey smile on their face.

“And what about the big ghost? Do they know what time it is?”

A sheepish smile crept onto your face. “They do now. I just need a few more minutes—”

“Nope.” Jesse swept into the room and spun your chair towards the door. “It’ll still be here tomorrow. It’s past bedtime for people and ghosts.”

“But…” You glanced over at the clay medallion you hadn’t yet translated. The oddly familiar markings had plagued your mind since you unearthed it. You just had to—

“No ‘buts’, only bed.”

In one swift motion, they tilted the back of the chair forward to unceremoniously dump you on your feet and tossed you over their shoulder.

“This is highly unnecessary,” you laughed.

“Maybe it is, but your sleep isn’t.”

They trotted you to your shared bedroom, plopping you on the bed before climbing under the sheets on the other side. You hadn’t realized just how tired you truly were. Your eyelids felt heavy and drooped close. A little bit of rest wouldn’t hurt.

A floorboard creak sent you bolting upright in your shared bed. Sometimes being a light sleeper worked in your favor. Did Torrence have another nightmare?

You swung your feet over the side of the bed and stood. The floor lightly squeaked under your weight. Strange. It wasn’t as loud as—

Clomp! CLOMP!

You snatched up the wooden baseball bat near the bed. That was not Torrence. You glanced toward Jesse to find them still fast asleep. It would be near impossible to wake them up before their alarm. They slept like the dead. Sucking in a breath through your nose, you steeled yourself with a white knuckled grip on the bat.

Clomp! CLOMP!

There it was, again… You opened the door and peered into the unlit hallway. Nothing.

Clomp! CLOMP!

Was it coming from the apartment upstairs? Was it down the hall? It was hard to tell.

Clomp! Creeeeaaak! CLOMP!

That high-pitched groan… The floorboard in the living room had that particular moan.

You sneaked as quickly as possible on your toes, praying it would minimize the noise, down the hall. It suddenly felt too dark and too narrow, almost like it was actually shrinking. Was it twisting now, too? You held your breath through every step. The relief you felt from reaching the living room unscathed and undetected was immense but short lived as you peered around the corner. 

A bulky, tall figure loomed near the window in your living room. The clouds outside parted to let the moonlight fall on them, harshly highlighting their form. The pointed ears atop their head seemed to glow from the yellowish light. Their broad shoulders were hugged by a tattered cloak that nearly reached the floor. You could see the thick boots that wreaked so much havoc on your floors.

Your grip on the bat tightened further. You were 100% regretting your decision to confront the intruder alone…

Their head twitched toward the hallway, toward you.

Crap. They couldn’t have possibly heard me… Right?

They turned away from the window. The breath caught in your throat.

The cloak (maybe cape would be a better word) parted as they moved, revealing the black and gray clad form underneath of well-formed muscles suitable to a long practicing fighter, presumably male. A gloved hand reached out slowly, shakily, shifting the cape further. The suit was torn and bloodied. You could practically smell the iron emanating from his wounds. Or… Was that your imagination running wild again?

You finally looked up to his face. The pointed headgear was more like a cowl. All it allowed you to see was a bruised jawline peppered with stubble and busted lips.

The breath that had been stuck shoved its way into your lungs as a gasp. This man looked like a train wreck. But… how- why was he in your apartment?

One boot clunked lightly toward you, the other followed clumsily.

Clomp. CLOMP.

Any normal person would have bolted by now. Not you. Something stirred in your chest, a familiar flame. It urged you to fight, to protect. You weren’t going anywhere. You would protect your family.

His pummeled mouth parted, hoarsely calling out.

He- It was… It was your name. He was calling out to you.

The wooden weapon wavered in your hands. You retightened your grip. Had you been stronger, the wood would have splintered. 

No. You wouldn’t let him best you.

A floorboard creak sent you bolting upright in your shared bed. Sometimes being a light sleeper worked in your favor. Did Torrence have another nightmare?

You swung your feet over the side of the bed and stood. The floor lightly squeaked under your weight. Strange. It wasn’t as loud as—

Clomp! CLOMP!

You snatched up the wooden baseball bat near the bed. That was not Torrence. You glanced toward your partner to find them still fast asleep. It was near impossible to wake them up before their alarm. Sucking in a breath through your nose, you steeled yourself with a white knuckled grip on the bat.

Clomp! CLOMP!

There it was, again… You opened the door and peered into the hallway. Nothing.

Clomp! CLOMP!

Was it coming from upstairs? Was it down the hall? It was hard to tell.

Clomp! Creeeeaaak! CLOMP!

That high-pitched groan… The floorboard in the living room had that particular moan.

You sneaked as quickly as possible on your toes, praying it would minimized the noise, down the hall. The relief you felt from your successful silence was short lived as you peered around the corner.

A bulky, tall figure loomed near the window in your living room. The clouds outside parted to let the moonlight fall on them, harshly highlighting headgear with pointed ears ontop and a nearly floor-length cloak clutching to broad shoulders.

Your grip on the bat tightened impossibly further. You were 100% regreting your decision to confront the intruder alone…

Their head twitched toward the hallway, toward you.

Crap. They couldn’t have possibly heard you… Right?

They turned away from the window. The breath caught in your throat.

The cloak (maybe cape would be a better word) parted as they moved, revealing the black and gray clad form underneath of well-formed muscles suitable to a long practicing fighter, presumably male. A gloved hand reached out slowly, shakily, shifting the cape further. The suit was torn and bloodied.

Then, you finally looked up to his face. The headgear was more like a cowl. All it allowed you to see was a bruised jawline and busted lips.

The breath that had been stuck shoved its way into your lungs as a gasp. This man looked like a train wreck. But… how- why was he in your apartment?

One boot clunked lightly toward you, the other followed clumsily.

Clomp. CLOMP.

Any normal person would have bolted by now. Not you. Something stirred in your chest, a familiar flame. You weren’t going anywhere. You would protect your family.

His pummeled mouth parted, hoarsly calling out.

He- It was… It was your name. He was calling out to you.

The wooden weapon wavered in your hands. You retightened your grip. No. You wouldn’t let him best you.

The guest list was more than either of you had anticipated. Tony may have had something to do with that. Immediate family was set near the wedding party, and the Avengers who weren’t at the main table along with a few friends you both knew were nearby. That made up maybe a third of the room. The rest? Neither of you had a clue. Even after making your rounds together to check in on each table, you didn’t recognize a single face or name.

You had just sat down after making yet another round when your gaze landed on your families. Odin, your now official father-in-law, was smiling and making small talk with your parents. You raised a glass of champagne to your lips to keep your mouth from falling agape. It was surprising enough that Odin was in attendance in the first place. You hadn’t quite decided if his presence was in poor taste or not. After all, he had forbidden a royal wedding to a Midgardian from taking place on Asgard. Then again, if he had refused to show up at all, Frigga’s soul may have risen to haunt him for the rest of eternity.

You turned to Loki to see if he had observed the familial phenomena and froze. He was wringing his hands in his lap, well out of sight of the guests. He was smiling, but it was tired, and his eyes which were flitting about the hall held the same exhaustion. Well, at least it wasn’t Odin causing his anxiety. But… Maybe that wasn’t the right descriptor. Overwhelmed would be better.

It was time.

You scanned across the guests, finally landing on landing on Pepper near the back of the venue. It looked like she had pulled an almost drunk Tony aside for a chat, though her eyes watched everyone else. She caught your gaze and curved her brow. You raised your glass, swirled it exactly three times, and brought it to your lips before tapping it twice with your middle finger. Pepper nodded. She whispered something to Tony, and his eyes lit like beacons. He made a mad dash for the DJ equipment that Happy had utilized at for the obligatory first dance before dinner was served.

Reaching for Loki’s hand, you leaned over and kissed Loki’s cheek. It was the perfect cover for you to whisper, “You ready to run?”

Loki’s eyes drifted back to you but not for long. The feedback from the microphone Tony picked eye stole his and everyone else’s attention. Tony shouted something about starting a beat. You weren’t really sure. You were solely focused on Loki turning back to you with a lopsided smirk and glimmering eyes.

The lights fell and the music started.

Loki squeezed your hand before pulling you close. “More than ready.”

The flash of green blended in well the strobe lights and lasers that Tony was absolutely too ecstatic to use.

Loki kept you in his arms until your senses returned to normal. Although, he was reluctant to release you even then, but he was just as curious about the room Pepper had booked you for the week.

The honeymoon suite had the same color theme as the reception hall. Gold table runners adorned the dark mahogany furniture. One of which hosted a dark green bottle of champagne (as if you hadn’t had enough yet). Emerald petals that contrasted brightly against the white carpet trailed out of the sitting room and, more than likely, into the bedroom. If Pepper’s immaculate planning and eye for detail were just as evident here along with the wedding, the bedroom would be just as stunning.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck and purred, “You know what would be great right now?”

“What, my darling?” Loki rested his forehead against yours.

“To change out of these clothes and into something more… comfortable.”

Loki grinned and raised hand as though he was about to snap his fingers. Your hand met his, and you laced your fingers together.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” you chuckled.

“But dove,” he pouted playfully.

You pulled away, pointing to the suitcases by the door. “Humor me? This won’t take long.”

And it wouldn’t. You were desperate to get out of your stiff wedding attire and surprise your husband with the new clothing Wanda and Nat and helped you pick out. You’d tear it off if you had to, with or without Loki’s help.

You quietly tip-toed down the hall back to the sitting room in the outfit you were sure would have Loki leaping off the sofa you left him at. Poking your head around the door, you found he was still there just as you had insisted.

He was asleep.

Slinking across the room, you reached the edge of the sofa where you could confirm his soft, deep breathing. He was out cold.

You breathed a laugh through your nose and returned to the bedroom. You came back with the bed comforter. After delicately draping it over Loki, you joined him underneath, tucking your head under his chin and sneaking your arms around him as comfortable as possible. He reciprocated almost instantly. You smiled and gently kissed his neck.

This certainly wasn’t the worst way to spend your wedding night.

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