How?
How could it have all gone so wrong?
It was supposed to be an easy mission, get in, free the hostages, get out.
But since when is it ever easy? There's always a catch. There's always something that goes wrong.
Terribly wrong.
She thought she could save them, he agreed. They were simple thugs robbing a bank. It happened all the time, and she'd helped stop loads of bank robbers before.
It should have been quick. It should have been easy. She should have been able to stop it.
And so he'd let her go it alone.
She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to show that she could do it. But she had been too prideful.
Too stupid.
Too careless.
Sure it had started well enough. She'd dropped in and went about eliminating the threats one-by-one, silently.
But she'd miscalculated.
She hadn't seen the leader.
And so she thought she had stopped them. She began getting the hostages out. It wasn't until most of them were out that she noticed something off. There was a chill in the air...
There was suddenly a shout from the freed hostages. A woman was being held by her husband, sobbing heavily and crying out frantically for her daughter, Debby.
A laugh from behind caught her attention and she spun around to find the one she'd missed holding a small, brunette girl at gunpoint.
Her eyes narrowed behind her mask and she made to attack him, but stopped dead when he cocked the gun.
"Ah ah ah," he said, smirking, looking for all his worth like the cat who got the proverbial canary. "Wouldn't want anythin' to happen to the kid, would ya?" he taunted, driving the gun against the back of the girl's skull. She whimpered pathetically and clawed at the arm that pinned her to the man. She was sobbing quite loudly, her face was red and awash with tears.
She felt her heart break a little at the sight.
"Let her go."
The man scoffed. "And why should I? I ain't goin' back to prison, girly." His finger tightened on the trigger and both she and the girl tensed.
She felt herself begin to sweat as she and the man stared each other down. Scenario after scenario flew through her head, all ending with the girl dead. She began to feel helpless.
Useless.
Sure, by now, he would've been able to rescue the girl.
But you're not him a voice whispered in her head. It didn't matter. She should have been able to do this.
She should have called him.
She couldn't handle this on her own, she realized. She wasn't ready.
But he was too far away. By the time he'd arrive the girl would already be dead.
The man started backing away from her, still holding the girl against him, towards the back exit. Away from the police.
"Now here's how it's gonna go," he said with a smug grin. "Yer gonna let me go, and then I'll give little Debby back." The poor girl looked ready to faint, she was so terrified. Her sobs shook her body and she continued to struggle against the man.
"It doesn't work like that," she said darkly with false bravado, taking a threatening step forward. She surprised herself with her steadiness.
"That's how it's gonna work if you want this girl to keep breathin'!" He was getting nervous. He had hoped his threat would get her to back off, but apparently she wasn't so easily rattled.
She paused in her movements. She noted the man's steadily increasing nervousness. It would no doubt lead to panic, and panic was not even close to ideal for this situation.
"Let her go now and maybe you'll be let off easy," she said, reaching slowly for her weapon. She had to be careful. One wrong move would end the girl.
Debby.
Her eyes were wide and shining with tears. She was looking to her would-be savior, pleading desperately to be saved.
She winced. There was barely a 50/50 chance she'd be able to get the girl out of danger. And those odds were steadily decreasing as it seemed words would not effect this man.
Slowly she advanced.
Slowly he backed away.
"You don't have to do this," she said almost desperately, trying once more to negotiate.
The man shook his head and glared. "No, I do." The girl keened.
She pulled out one of her escrima sticks and glared fiercely at the man. She could do this.
She had to.
Seeing the sticks the man felt a bit of confidence return. "What are you going to do with those?" he asked with a snort.
She bristled but said nothing.
Despine the apparent non-threat the stick posed the man continued to back up. He was no fool, he knew he couldn't win if a fight with her, despite his enormous size. He should have payed attention to where his feet fell.
She should have seen it earlier.
Some imbecile had thought it a good idea to place a pile of papers in the middle of the hallway.
They both realized to late.
It happened so fast.
One wrong step.
Three screams, a gunshot, a thud.
Blood and gray matter stained the floor, the walls...
Herself.
God it was everywhere.
And the girl...
Debby...
The man stood no chance.
She saw red and was upon him like an rabid animal.
It took three police officers to drag her off the bloody, beaten man. They had to restrain her until he came, keep her from launching herself at the man again as they lead him into an ambulance.
"Sam..."
"Don't even start, Dick." There was a sigh and she felt the bet sink as he sat down next to her. He said nothing. He just sat, a silent supporter.
She sighed and buried her head in her knees. "It's my fault..."
"It's not."
"It is!" Her head snapped up and she gave him a fierce glare. His calm and sympathetic face only proved to infuriate her more.
How could he sit there so peacefully when she had failed so badly. She'd allowed a little girl to be murdered and he sat there expecting her to accept that?
What nonsense.
"It is," she insisted. "I was careless, stupid. I should've seen him."
"Shoulda, coulda, woulda," he said with a shrug. She scowled and dropped her head.
"How can you be so blasé about this?" she demanded crossly, glaring down at her bedsheets. "That girl died because of me."
He exhaled slowly and without warning pulled her into a hug. She gasped at the sudden contact and began to struggle, but he wouldn't release her.
She stopped moving after a few minutes and allowed him to hold her.
"Her name was Debby..." she mumbled after a while. "She was 6."
Dick nodded and rubbed her back soothingly. "It wasn't your fault," he said again and she scoffed. "I'm serious. It happens to all of us, you know."
Her brow furrowed at that and she gave Dick a questioning look.
"Yes, even me."
"What happened?"
"Two-Face did," he said scowling a bit at the name. It brought a bitter taste to his mouth every time. "He had the D.A and Batman hung up in some mockery of a gallows."
Sam grimaced and rubbed her throat, causing Dick to chuckle softly. She gave him a half hearted snear and motioned for him to continue.
"Well, I knew batman could handle himself, I just had to get the D.A out of the noose. I succeeded, but I didn't realize there was more to Two-Face's trap. I was too far away to catch him when the hatch under him open and dropped him into the bay waters."
He didn't need to finish speaking for her to understand what had happened.
"What happened after that?"
Dick gave a derisive snort. "I got the shit beat out of me by Two-Face. Batman didn't let me back out for a while after."
Sam nodded noncommittally and layed there silently for a while, taking the story in. The knowledge that she wasn't alone in her failure calmed her marginally. But the images refused to leave her alone. The face of the girl, contorted in absolute horror and desperation, the blood that covered every surface, even herself.
But the parents of the girl.
They were the worst.
She could see in their eyes, they hated her. They blamed her. She was at fault. She was the one that killed their baby girl.
Debby.
The rage and hate that swam in their gazes had been nearly palpable.
She could feel the pinpricks in her eyes, the tell tale signs of tears, but she held them back. Tears were bad, a sign of weakness.
But Dick knew.
"I know what you must be feeling and it's okay," he said softly, running a gentile hand through her hair.
"It's okay to cry."
With those simple words the floodgates were opened. Sam clenched her hands in the fabric of Dick's shirt and buried her face in his chest, weeping forthrightly.
Dick smiled sadly and pulled her close, offering up as much comfort as he could.
They stayed like that for what seemed like hours before her sobs softened into quiet whimpers.
"It's not fair," she mumbled hoarsely. Dick shook his head.
"No, it's not."
She was quiet for a while more. "Does it get better?"
Dick paused before answering. Thoughts of that night still plagued his dreams, but...
"Yeah. Eventually. With help."
"W-will you help me?" Dick could see how much effort it took for her to ask that simple question and smiled, proud that she had.
"I'll always help you."