Shadowhealer

by Lady of Moon Over Silver Seas

A mysterious metahuman has emerged from nowhere. They heal the wounded, be they Justice League, civilian or even some criminals, before disappearing as if they'd never existed in the first place... the League is concerned, but the Bat-Clan are oddly silent on the matter. Who is this figure, and why are they doing this? T for now. May change later.

1. Chapter 1

I do not own Young Justice or any other copyrighted material that may be mentioned in this fic.

02:32 GMT January 12th Havana

Arsenal lay in the ruins of a collapsed building swearing under his breath as he tried to pull his right leg out from under a pile of crumpled roof, blood bubbling around his lips. He finally gave up, listening to the noises of the city in the wake of the myriad explosions that led to him lying here, dying alone and helpless.

His head snapped up, and he pulled a blade from a sheath at his hip, at the sound of footsteps on gravel. A slender figure emerged from the darkness before him. They halted in a patch of moonlight as if to allow him to assess them fully. He frowned at the sight of what appeared to be a child younger even than Robin, clad in a deep-hooded woollen greatcoat of myriad shades of brown patterned like feathers over a pair of tight charcoal skinny jeans disappearing into a pair of tan army boots. Slender and long-fingered hands, wrapped in grey fingerless gloves, emerged from the oversized sleeves of the coat and lowered the hood, revealing black hair pulled back in a sensible French braid, over what looked to be one of Robin's black domino masks. Full red lips pursed in a frown as the elfin head cocked to one side, assessing his injuries.

His grip on his blade relaxed slightly at the lack of obvious weapons, but he didn't sheathe it yet. "What do you want?" he managed to force out.
"To help." A soft, dulcet voice replied. "May I heal you Harper?"
"How the Hell do you know that name?" He snarled, trying to rise to a sitting position as he tightened his grip on his knife.
"It's rather common knowledge in certain circles. I would give you my word that all I wish to do is heal you, but somehow, I rather doubt that I'd be believed. Nevertheless…" and with that the girl stepped forward, ignoring his snarl and lunge with the knife, and placed her hand on his chest.

His back arched in a silent scream, and he lost his grip on his knife, as he felt his ribs snap back into place, and his lungs forcibly empty themselves of fluid. As the pain dulled and his mind dragged itself back from the fog, he realised his leg was no longer pinned and he was alone once more.