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raepritewrites · 11 months ago

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The Return

There were some good things that came out of Heather’s metamorphosis, despite it being one of the most painful experiences of her life… which was saying something, because she had experienced being vivisected while fully conscious. She wouldn’t recommend either of those experiences, by the way, a definite zero out of ten.

Still, at least the end results of her body mutating were beneficial. She was more durable than she was previously, her healing factor was a good bit faster, and while the fangs were annoying at times, the paralysis venom they made was infinitely useful. She could feel it collecting like a thick second kind of saliva just above the roof of her mouth throughout the day, which grossed Kurt out to no end when she explained it to him. He had fangs too, but his were for show, or so he claimed with a winning grin.

After a while, she’d figured out that if she concentrated she could use the venom on command. Once she knew how to do that, she started collecting excess venom into glass beakers before transferring it into small darts. Kurt thought it was hilarious the first time he walked in on her standing in the kitchen with the glass precariously gripped between her fangs and bottom teeth as she scrolled Instagram on her phone. When she had enough darts filled, she would load them into some wrist cuffs that Tony had gifted her. It was a lot more hygienic than biting a criminal’s neck. (Seriously, who knew where they had been?)

Another small perk of the venom her body naturally generated? Poisons, knockout gas, and paralysis formulas barely worked on her anymore. Ninety percent of the time, her body could fight off whatever it was, and she’d be up and moving again in twenty minutes tops. She still wasn’t bulletproof, but hey, she’d take what she could get.

Which was why, when the alarm system started blaring in Mount Justice and thick smoke filled her room, she didn’t panic right away even as her vision swam and she found herself collapsing to the floor.

When consciousness returned to her, the alarm was still going off, and she checked her watch. She’d taken a ten minute cat nap thanks to that gas, and she estimated that the old her probably would have been out for hours. She quickly left her quarters, checking on everyone’s rooms as she swung down the hallway. Out like a light, every one of them; even Conner, who was a lot more difficult to knock down than all of them combined. Whoever had hit the mountain knew about them, and that scared her a little.

What scared her more was finding Robin’s quarters empty.

“Shit,” She hissed, crawling along the ceiling as fast as she could, searching for the little bird.

The biggest reason she’d accepted Nightwing’s plea for her to return to the team in a mentor capacity was because of Robin. After Jason had died, they’d all spiraled in their own way, but Bruce was the worse off by far. Nightwing and Batgirl had thrown themselves into team missions, Heather had retreated from the caped life and into her secular work, but Batman… Batman was not doing well. He’d pushed away everyone, even Superman and Dick, and he’d grown reckless and more violent in his cases. Dinah had tried repeatedly to talk with Bruce about the obvious grief he was going through, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

The three of them all blamed themselves for Jason’s death, but Bruce had taken the loss of his son the hardest. He didn’t want to let himself be close to anyone else, and he was having less and less regard for his own life. Something had to change, but she, Dick, Barbara and Alfred were all unable to figure out what.

Then along came Timothy Drake.

Tim knew about them. About all of them. He’d been stalking the bats for at least two years across the rooftops of Gotham, and none of them had noticed, not even Heather. Her only explanation for that was the boy didn’t set off her spider sense. He’d never meant them any harm.

He figured out their identities a long time ago, and the only thing he’d done about it is defend their public personas in online forums and take pictures of the bats as they protected Gotham. It was clear that Jason was Tim’s favorite Robin, most of the pictures were of him. Dick tried very valiantly not to be jealous, but Heather could tell it rankled him a little.

Tim was more than just a fanboy though. He was scary smart. His computer skills rivaled Barbara, Dick, and several members of the League combined. When Tim realized something terrible had happened to Jason, he started keeping closer tabs on Bruce. He saw the dark path Batman was heading down, but unlike them, he had a solution.

And so eleven year old Tim Drake, with the biggest nerves of steel Heather had ever seen in her life, had rang Bruce’s doorbell when he knew he was at home (apparently, the Drakes were Bruce’s closest neighbors?? Who knew?) and had told Bruce in no uncertain terms that he knew he was Batman, he knew he’d lost his Robin, and he needed a new partner so here he was.

Seriously. The kid had blackmailed Batman into giving him the mantle. Heather would have been a little offended - heaven knew Dick was - if she hadn’t been so impressed. Plus, if she was being honest, she’d kind of done the same thing to Spiderman back in the day, even if in the end he’d essentially dumped her into the team and ghosted her from there as much as he could. The point was, who was she to judge?

It was obvious immediately that Tim was more than capable of taking up the title, too. The kid was small, but much like Dick at that age, he was full of surprises. He took to fighting like a fish to water, using a bo staff as his preferred weapon over even wingdings or Dick’s own escrima sticks. He wasn’t like Dick and he wasn’t Jason, that was certain, but that was okay. Tim was his own Robin, and he treated the title with so much respect it was practically religious. He followed Batman’s instructions, but he wasn’t so much of a fanboy that he couldn’t disregard an order if needed, something she could appreciate.

Heather took to the kid pretty quickly, much quicker than Dick had. From the little Tim would say about his parents she had pieced together his homelife situation, and the picture wasn’t great. His parents were… inattentive to say the least. The Drakes seemed more interested in globe trotting and growing their business than being home with their son. While Heather had been able to rely on her mom being home every night, she could still understand how lonely Tim must have been. Growing up in a giant cold mansion alone for weeks at a time… that sounded like a nightmare to her.

After several long talks between herself, Dick and Dinah, her friend had finally come around to the idea of someone else taking on his old moniker. The anger that had initially accompanied Jason ‘stealing’ Robin away had finally melted into a bittersweet feeling for Dick. On the one hand, he was still mad at Bruce for not asking his permission, but he was finally able to admit that Jason had been a worthy successor. Too late to actually tell the boy that in person, but at least now Dick could be a better brother to Tim than he had been to Jason.

When Dick had asked her to return to help the team, but especially Robin, she couldn’t say no. The kid had seen how much Bruce was drowning, and pulled the man back from the deep end. She was grateful to him for that, but he was also just genuinely fun to work with. It helped ease some of the ache that still lingered around Jason’s memory, and made it a little easier every time she visited the manor.

Now, Tim was missing, all the rest of the team were either out on a mission or knocked unconscious, and judging by the static in her earpiece, the comms were down. She’d be damned if she let something happen to that kid on her watch.

She resisted the urge to call out his name as she ran through the mountain, just in case the kid was holed up somewhere hiding from whoever or whatever had done this. She just prayed this wasn’t another Tornado family reunion, that had been a nightmare she never wanted to repeat.

When Heather finally skidded around the corner of the gym, her heart caught in her throat. “Robin!”

The boy wonder was pinned to the wall at the neck by a man wearing combat boots, cargo pants, a leather jacket, and a bright red full face helmet. There were guns sticking out from holsters under the jacket and he was holding a wicked looking knife to Robin’s neck. The boy had clearly already been fighting off his attacker for a while, blood leaking from a cut above his right eyebrow, and while one arm was desperately grasping at the man’s giant hand so he could draw in a full breath, his left arm hung limply at his side.

Scarlet Spider moved on instinct, webbing flinging out to grab the intruder by the back of his jacket and yanking him away from Robin who fell limply to the floor with a cry of pain. The attacker looked up at her as he rolled from the floor back to his feet smoothly, slicing the webbing off of him in one movement. “You should still be asleep, little spider,” his modulated voice sent a shiver down her spine, but only for a moment.

"What can I say? I'm a light sleeper," She snapped, lunging for him.

The man backflipped away, smoother than someone his size should have been able to, then made a wide slash at her with the knife. She jumped back, grabbed his still extended wrist and twisted until the knife clattered to the ground, kicking it well out of reach.

She saw Robin slowly trying to rise to his feet from the corner of her eye and realized he was trying to help. Sweet, brave, dumb boy, he really is a bat, she thought just as the attacker broke out of her hold, kicking her in the chest and sending her flying back. She scrambled to her feet and dove for the attacker as he turned his attention back to Tim.

"Robin, run!" Scarlet Spider snapped, wrapping her arms around the man's thick arms and torso.

"That's right, Robin. Run away like the fraud you are," the man taunted, trying and failing to break her hold on him. "You never had a chance."

"Shut up!" Robin said, but his voice warbled. He leaned against the wall, clutching his clearly dislocated arm and glared at his attacker.

"Poor little replacement just can't cut it," the man continued, planting his feet and flipping Scarlet Spider over his head. She twisted in mid air to land her feet, skidding back on the concrete for a few seconds before resuming her fight stance.

"Leave him alone!" She demanded. Every big sister instinct she had was screaming at her to get Tim out of there. "Pick on someone your own size, you bastard."

"Big words coming from someone who lets child soldiers fight their battle for them," he mocked, reaching for his guns only for her to web them straight out of their holsters and into her own hands. She removed the magazines and dropped them to the ground.

"Robin has the right to fight for what he believes in as much as any of us," she shot back, keeping herself between Tim and the assailant. "You're the asshole who broke in here and specifically targeted him."

"He shouldn't be here!" The man yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Tim. "He doesn't deserve to wear those colors. He's. Not. A. Robin." He grit out, reaching for something in the pocket of his pants, but Heather had had enough.

She jumped forward and tackled him to the ground, using more of her enhanced strength than she normally would as he fought to free himself from her grasp. For several tense seconds, the two traded punches as they rolled across the floor. Eventually, she gained the upper hand, and had him pinned beneath her. She kept his arms locked above his head even as he bucked and writhed like a wild horse.

"I don't normally like to do this," she grunted, tightening her grip. "But for you? I'll gladly make an exception." She opened her mouth wide, venom already dripping and sunk her fangs into the small sliver of skin visible between his helmet and armored shirt.

It took less than thirty seconds for his body to go limp, but she didn't let go for several more, not trusting him to not have another trick up his sleeve. Finally, she released her hold and sat back, breathing out a sigh of relief. She looked down at his lolling head and reached for the edge of his helmet, only for her spidersense to flare up. “What kind of psycho puts something that dangerous right next to his face?” She muttered, pulling away from the helmet. That was a puzzle she’d sort out later.

A painful groan snapped her attention back to Robin, who was struggling to stay upright. “Kid! You okay?” She was at his side in seconds, gently taking his chin so she could examine the cut above his eye. She was careful of the bruising that had started to appear on the boy’s neck as she tilted his head back and forth. “That doesn’t look too deep. Head wounds just love to bleed. What’s wrong with your arm?”

Tim grimaced. “He popped it out of the socket. Wrist is on fire. Sprained, I think.” He spoke in terse short sentences laced with pain, but he was still standing and she gave him credit for that.

“Any other injuries?” Heather asked, lightly running her fingers over the swollen skin of his wrist, gently prodding for broken bones. Tim hissed and she murmured her apologies.

“Head hurts. Pistol whipped,” He reported reluctantly.

Heather knew if he was in a different frame of mind, he never would have admitted to that one. Like all the bats, he was notorious for skimping on injury reports. It used to drive her up a wall. It wasn’t like they were extra durable the way she was - they were more human than most of the league and the team combined. Sometimes, it was like they had begun to believe their own made up rumors, that the bat clan was something other. Which, as Heather well knew, they were not. They could bleed, they could break, they could even die.

Heather swallowed quickly against the deja vu as she saw a vision of a different Robin in front of her for a moment. She was thankful for her mask as she blinked quickly. “Right, let’s get you to medical. He’ll be out long enough for me to send a distress signal to the League and get someone here to help.”

“Is everyone else okay?” Tim asked, watching Heather quickly web his assailant to the floor.

“Unconscious, but otherwise fine. You were targeted specifically. The question is, why?” Heather wondered aloud, waiting until Tim’s brow scrunched in thought before quickly popping his shoulder back into place.

The boy howled, crumpling against her. She gripped him in a tight hug and ran her fingers through his hair. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! You know it goes in easier if you aren’t thinking about it. Sorry Timmy, sorry,” she hushed him gently as she felt a few tears hit her shoulder. “You did so good, Tim. I’m so proud of you.”

“Why?” Tim sniffed. “Why would you be proud of a pathetic replacement? Jason would have had that guy knocked out and cuffed in seconds. I couldn’t even hold out more than twenty minutes. He’s right - I’ll never be worthy of the title.”

“Hey!” She pulled back enough to meet Tim’s eyes even through their masks. “None of that. Do not ever think you aren’t worthy. You’re more than capable of being Robin. You are a good Robin, maybe better than even Dick was,” she admitted.

“But-”

“Are you really going to let the likes of him tell you whether you should have the mantle?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the still knocked out assailant. “You’re smarter than that, Tim. Don’t be like me, kid. I spent too many years feeling unworthy of taking up Dad’s mantle, hiding behind the name Black Widow, and that wasn’t even mine either. I finally realized that my Dad would have wanted me to be the Scarlet Spider, and if he were still here I know he’d be proud. Jason would be proud of you Tim, do not let anyone tell you different not even yourself. You got it?”

Tim sniffed once and nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, okay,” he said, with about as much enthusiasm as he would have if she’d told him to do push ups.

Heather sighed and gave him a small smile. “We’ll work on that confidence together, yeah? Come on, let’s get you to med.”

It took very little time to get Tim set with some basic first aid. An xray showed his wrist was sprained, not broken, and only required some wrapping and an IV for fluids and light pain meds. Heather had found bruises all across the boys body that he had failed to mention. She vowed to herself to have a team meeting ASAP on honesty in all things - especially field injuries.

Once she didn’t have Tim to worry about as he fell into a light sleep, she was able to overcome the jamming signal that the assailant had used. She would have to discuss with Batman the Mountain’s security measures. Something about the attack rubbed her the wrong way, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was.

“Mount Justice to the League, this is Scarlet Spider. The mountain was infiltrated and the team was attacked. Requesting backup,” Heather waited impatiently for someone up on the satellite to answer her, although it actually only took a few seconds.

“Batman here, status?”

“The team was knocked unconscious with some sort of gas, even Superboy. Robin was specifically singled out and attacked by an assailant currently in custody. I need you, Martian Manhunter, and possibly one other Leaguer to assist.”

There was a palpable pause. “Robin was attacked?”

Heather could hear Bruce under Batman’s terse question, the parental worry only obvious to someone who knew him well. “He’s stable. Dislocated arm, laceration above his eye, light head injury, bruising all over his body from the fight… he did good, Batman. You should be proud. I only had to intervene at the very end after I regained consciousness,” she added.

Another pause. “That’s good to know. We’ll be down shortly. I’ll bring Black Canary and one of the lanterns as well.”

“I’ll have the assailant in holding. Scarlet Spider out.”

Heather rolled her neck and sighed. She knew Batman would want a more thorough report later, but for now she had a would be assassin to move to interrogation. Normally, suspects would be taken straight to the police, or possibly the satillite if they were big enough threats for interrogation. But this was personal, and Heather would be damned if she let the League take charge of what was a team matter, and she knew Dick would agree with her.

She found the suspect right where she’d left him, cocooned to the floor. She hoped the Manhunter would be able to remove the helmet without harming them or the suspect. Well, if the suspect got a little hurt, Heather wouldn’t have minded.

She knew that was cold, she knew it wasn’t very heroic. However, all she could think of was how easily Bruce could have had to bury another son today had she not gotten there in time.

She stretched out her spidersense as far as she could, sensing for danger or ill-intent, but there was nothing. The man’s chest rose and fell evenly in drug induced sleep, muscles lax. Still, she stayed on her toes as she lifted the man over her shoulder and carried him to an interrogation room. Once he was in a metal chair, she gave him another layer of webbing to anchor him in place. He hadn’t seemed to possess super strength, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

In short order, Dinah and J’onn appeared.

“Are you alright?” Black Canary asked, eyeing their suspect with barely disguised disgust. All the Leaguers were protective of the team in one way or another, but the Robins held a special place, especially for the original members like Dinah.

Heather shrugged. “Not a scratch on me. I’m assuming Batman is with Robin?”

“Indeed,” J’onn replied. “Green Lantern is scanning the cave for clues. We’ve already checked on the others. They show no adverse affects from the gas that was used on them. It was only flooded into the private quarters and a few of the public spaces, but the gym where Robin was held no traces of the gas. You’re initial assessment appears correct. Robin was the target.”

“They knew enough to get into the mountain’s security and how the airvents flow to distribute the drug,” Black Canary said thoughtfully, leaning against the metal table that Heather had moved to the side.

“But they didn’t know the gas wouldn’t work well on me,” Scarlet Spider added. “Who could have that much knowledge about us? Who would go through all this trouble just to attack Robin here, rather than in Gotham?”

“Maybe they wanted Robin isolated from Batman,” Canary suggested.

“But why Robin?” Heather asked again, feeling at a loss.

“Perhaps we should ask him,” Manhunter suggested. “He is awake, though very good at masking it. I almost did not sense his change in brain activity.”

The assailant had the nerve to chuckle, lifting his chin from his chest. “Good as ever Manhunter. Couldn’t ever get anything passed you.”

“You act as though we have met before,” Manhunter said, his tone flat.

“Haven’t we?” The man turned towards Canary and Spider. “Black Canary, lovely as ever.”

“Who are you?” Canary demanded, making a move like she was going to remove his helmet, only for Scarlet Spider’s hands to catch her own.

“His helmet is booby trapped,” She explained when the older woman gave her a raised eyebrow. She released her grip and Canary stepped back thoughtfully. “That’s part of the reason I asked for Martian Manhunter. I thought he might be able to remove the helmet without anyone getting hurt.”

“You always did have a bleeding heart, Black Widow… or is it Scarlet Spider now? I can never keep up with your latest identity crisis,” The man said dryly, knowingly.

None of them outwardly reacted, but Heather felt her heart skip a beat. This man knew how to access the mountain, knew how to knock out even a Super, he knew she’d had a prior codename and that she’d struggled with accepting it.

There’s no way he heard me talking with Robin. I mean, he was unconscious, and I was speaking too softly to be overheard, She thought and turned to Martian Manhunter who mentally linked her with Canary so they could discuss how to handle this.

Maybe we should wait for Batman to conduct this interview, Canary thought as they watched their captive struggle in his sticky prison.

That could be a while, Scarlet Spider replied. He won’t want to leave Robin’s side.

I agree, we can handle this and inform Batman of the results later, Manhunter answered.

As if he’s not going to be watching the security monitors, Black Canary thought with a snort. Manhunter, can you phase the helmet off? I wanna see this guy’s face.

J’onn floated forward and placed his hands on either side of the red helmet.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. We’ll all go sky high,” the man said in a singsong voice that struck Heather as strangely familiar, although she couldn’t say why.

The Martian didn’t reply, merely phased the helmet off completely intact, revealing the explosives rigged into the bottom of the equipment. That wasn’t what Heather was focused on however. Tan skin, sharp jawline, black curls with a shock of white hair right at his temple, eyes hidden by a domino mask, but Heather would know that face anywhere.

“What the fuck?” Heather breathed, stumbling back a step. “Jason?!”

Dinah and J’onn both looked equally stunned. For a moment, time almost stood still, then someone pressed fast forward.

“Is it really him? Can you check, J’onn?” Dinah asked at the same moment Heather rushed forward and cupped his face in her hands.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” Jason spat, trying to wrench himself from her grip but she wouldn’t let him get far.

Keeping one almost bruising grip on his chin, Heather used the other to pull off his mask. His eyes were a bright toxic green, not the clear blue she remembered, and for a moment she doubted. Then he spat in her face to try and get her to let go, and she felt her heart shatter and reform a thousand times in her chest. Ignoring J’onn and Dinah’s protests, she reached up and removed her own mask so they could meet eye to eye.

“You’re fucking nasty,” she said, voice warbling with tears. “I can’t believe it’s you, Jason.”

He grit his teeth, struggling to pull away. “Let me go, bitch!”

“I am never letting you go again, brat,” She countered, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “I don’t know what happened to you, or why you’re so angry, but I am never letting go. Do you hear me? I had to say goodbye to you once - I won’t do it again.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Dinah demanded.

“He has been exposed to Lazerus waters, it has made many of his memories hazy or tainted by hatred,” J’onn said, his eyes glowing as he concentrated. “From what I can glean, he…” the Martian hesitated before continuing, “he awoke in his coffin and dug himself free, then wandered for some time in a vegetative state. His next clear memory is of a woman of Arabian descent taking him somewhere, and then being thrown into one of the pits.”

Heather pulled back from Jason and looked at Dinah in dawning horror.

“Talia!” “Ra’s Al Ghul!” They exclaimed in unison.

“No wonder your brain is all scrambled,” Heather said, turning back to Jason, who suddenly looked less angry and more confused. “If you weren’t mentally well when you got dumped in a pit, it would only get worse with exposure to Lazerus waters. The pit revives the body, but it causes extreme psychological damage if your mind isn’t completely whole.”

“How would you know?” Jason demanded.

“What did you think I was doing during those long nights when there were no cases to work on down in the cave?” Heather asked. “Once my assignments were completed, I read up on old cases. I basically read the whole databank in the batcomputer; anything I could get my hands on, including all of Bruce’s info on Lazerus waters and the League of Assasins.”

“And what right did Talia have bringing you to Nanda Parbat in that mental state instead of bringing you home?” Dinah said indignantly.

“She -” Jason was blinking sleepily, and Heather saw that J’onn was working overtime to repair his damaged memories. “She was trying to help.”

“She kidnapped you!” Dinah retorted. “She literally kidnapped a minor. She may have had good intentions, but she of all people should have known what a terrible idea it would be to put someone in your mental state into a pit.”

"I swear to god, next time I see her, I'll punch her in the face. I don't care how fond of her Bruce is or where she stands with her father, she had no right to put us all through this," Heather vowed, running her fingers through Jason's hair absently. "If she found you like that, she should have brought you home!"

"You - you didn't care that I was gone," Jason argued weakly, his eyes now closer to their original color than before.

J'onn shook his head as his eyes stopped glowing. "I don't want to push too much too fast. It may do more harm than good, but I've done my best for now to help him remember his past and curb the influence of the Pit on his memories," he explained quietly to Dinah as Heather crouched down to eye level with her long lost brother.

"Jason, I - losing you nearly broke me," she whispered fiercely, eyes shining. "That night that Bruce brought you home? I don't know how I survived it. Sometimes it still feels like a part of me died too. I'm not the only one either." She swallowed thickly. "Nothing has been the same since. Dick, Babs, Alfred and I have been a mess. And Bruce is-"

"Don't you dare talk about that asshole right now!" Jason snapped, even as his own eyes grew red and glittery.

"You can't blame only him for what happened," Heather protested, shaking her head. "It was all our fault, and mine most of all. I should have been able to stop you from leaving the cave. I should have been able to find you! I-"

"I don't blame you for my death, Heather," Jason rolled his eyes.

She frowned. "How could you not-?"

"I accept that you couldn't get there in time," he interrupted impatiently. "I accept that I made a bad decision, and I paid for it. What I can't accept is why the fuck the Joker is still alive?!"

Understanding dawned in her eyes, then regret. "I… Jason…" She turned and looked at Black Canary and Martian Manhunter. "I need you guys to give us some space for a few minutes."

The Leaguers exchanged doubtful glances.

"Please, I promise we're good here it's just-" Heather couldn't hold their gaze. "I made a promise to never discuss this, but Jason needs to hear this now, and I can't wait for permission. I'll call you back when we're done."

Dinah considered her for a moment before relenting and J'onn followed her lead. Once the interrogation room had just the two of them, Heather turned purposefully to the security cameras, arms crossed. "I know you're listening to this Bruce, and I know what I promised, but this can't wait for a family meeting. I would do this regardless of what you said anyway."

She grabbed the other chair she'd shoved to the side and put it in front of Jason's, sitting down heavily. "I'm sorry you're still ah stuck here," she motioned at her webbing keeping him in place. "But given what happened earlier with Robin, and what I have to tell you, I think it's for the best to leave it be for the moment."

Jason rolled his eyes, but he'd stopped trying to break free a while ago. "Nothing you could tell me is going to change how I feel. The Joker should be dead. Not for me, but for every other single innocent life he's ruined."

"He did," Heather said flatly.

Jason blinked. "What are you talking about? I'm not fucking stupid. First thing I checked once I came back to my senses was to look into the bastard, and I know he's in goddamn Arkham!"

"Yes, currently he is," She agreed. "But the Joker did die." She scrubbed at her face roughly, looking suddenly ten years older. "Nightwing killed him. He found him, beat the shit out of him, and I- I watched it happen and did nothing to stop it."

Jason's jaw worked furiously for a few moments, emotions warring on his features. "I don't- I don't understand-" he finally managed hoarsely.

Heather leaned forward on her elbows, her face earnest. "Taking a life changes you. It kills a part of you that you can never get back."

"How would you know?" He scoffed.

"Three people have died directly because of me," She said quietly. "My father, my classmate, and you. Those deaths broke me. They took something from me, and I've had to stitch myself back together every time it happened, but I've never been the same after. When I saw Dick's face after that piece of shit stopped breathing… I knew he was different now too, and I-" tears were pouring down her face now but she made herself continue. "I couldn't let Dick live with that guilt. I'm so sorry, but I couldn't do it, I'm not strong enough."

"What did you do?" He demanded, eyes flaring toxic green again.

"Batman had gotten there and pulled Nightwing off the body, and I just- instinct just took over. I did CPR," she sobbed, gripping her bowed head, "and I hated myself every second of it, but I couldn't bear seeing Dick look like that."

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