Richard Grayson, aka Nightwing, had never seen this girl before in his life. She popped up out of nowhere and jumped in front of a bullet aimed at him. Now the punk who shot her was unconscious and she was bleeding out on the pavement in a tiny Gotham alley. He called Batman, aka Bruce Wayne, to ensure that he would be allowed to take her back to the cave for medical attention. (She probably saved his life, so it was the least he could do. Beside, they were, quite frankly, more experienced at dealing with this type of thing.) Then he turned to her, lying limp on the ground, and chewed her out.
"What were you thinking?! You could have been killed! You might still die from that bullet wound in your chest. What on Earth possessed you to jump in front of me like that? I don't even know you. What do you care if I get shot?"
"Because." Speaking aggravated her injury, causing her to wince in pain and cry out. Panting, she continued. "Because the world needs you and it doesn't need me. You said it yourself, I might die from this. Better someone who isn't needed than one of the few great heroes this world has. Besides, you would have died for certain. That thug would have finished you off. At least I have a chance to pull through."
"Well will you at least tell me your name?" He hated it, but he couldn't fault her logic.
"I usually just go by kid, or girl. Street rat, if whomever is talking to me is in a bad mood. If I had a name, I don't remember."
The Batmobile pulled up and Damien opened the doors. "Well? Get her in. We don't have all night."
"Batman actually let you drive that thing?" Nightwing asked with a hint of disbelief.
"Father is indisposed at the moment. Scarecrow is proving especially difficult to take down and this was his excuse to get me out of the fight."
Nightwing loaded the girl into the back and sat down beside her, putting pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding. She hissed, but gave no other sign of pain.
Damien shut and locked the doors by pressing a button on the dash, then floored the gas pedal and headed to the Bat-Cave. Despite the speed he was still a better driver than Jason. "Would you care to inform me of your reasons for not simply dropping her off at the nearest hospital, Grayson?"
"No names, Robin," Dick scolded. "We're taking her to the cave for a couple of reasons. One, because she saved my life. Even you understand the concept of owing someone. Two, because we're better equipped to handle this type of injury. And three, because if we leave her in a hospital, assuming she survives, she'll just be dumped into the foster system and I won't let that happen if I have to adopt her myself. Even if she hadn't saved my life I've been in the foster care system. It's not pretty. That factor alone makes this personal."
Damien brought the Batmobile to an abrupt halt. "We're here."
The doors opened and Nightwing rushed the girl to the Cave's med-bay where Alfred and Dr. Leslie Tompkins were waiting. They started their work and for several hours all Nightwing could do was wait.
When Dr. Tompkins finally came and got him from the Cave's training room her face was dark and grim. "Is she...?" Nightwing couldn't quite get up the courage to finish that question.
"No," sighed Leslie, "She's alive. But we don't know for how much longer. That bullet should have killed her instantly. I don't know how she's hung on this long, but she's not likely to be able to keep it up for much longer."
Nightwing nodded his understanding. "May I see her?"
"Sure. Alfred and I have done all we can, so at least you won't be in anyone's way. Did you catch her name?"
"She said she doesn't have one." Nightwing returned to the med-bay and pulled a chair up beside her bad to sit in. "I still don't entirely get why you were so willing to die for me."
An almost inaudible laugh was heard from the still figure on the bed. "Maybe I'm just suicidal."
"I don't think so. Dr. Tompkins says you're holding on to life with everything you've got right now."
"Maybe I just thought that the life of someone important, someone who matters, is worth more than my own."
"So what are you going to do when you get better?" Nightwing asked, ever the optimist.
"Probably just run off again to avoid CPS. I'm not about to get stuck in foster care."
"You won't. I'll see to that even if I have to adopt you myself."
"I don't think they'll let a superhero adopt a kid. They'd be afraid you'd make me your sidekick or something."
Bat man walked over and sat down on her other side. "We prefer the term 'partner.'"
"Whatever you want to call it, it wouldn't make CPS happy. You should have heard them rant when the second Robin was killed. I think they actually went out looking for sidekicks so that they could take them into protective custody. Something about brainwashing."
Red Robin and Robin, miraculously not fighting at the moment, came up in time to hear what she said. Damien gave his usual snort of derision and Tim laughed.
"They probably think that the heroes force their junior partners into doing what they do," Tim told her. "When in reality the heroes are trying to prevent them from going off on their own until they're ready."
"Makes sense," the girl agreed.
Nightwing took off his mask, causing her half-open eyes to widen. Bruce glared at him, but he held his gaze with steady eyes and a calm expression. Some silent conversation happened between them that ended with Batman slipping off his cowl. The others hesitantly followed their example.
"I'm honored," she said quietly. Somewhat in shock and definitely in awe of this turn of events. "I'd shake your hands or something, but I don't want to move right now. It hurts a bit too much." The admission of pain seemed to hurt her just as much as her gunshot wound.
There was silence for a few awkward moments before Bruce spoke up to ask her a question. "Nightwing wants to make you a part of the family. What do you think?"
"That I don't want any pity or gratitude. As nice as it would be to have a family I don't want one that doesn't truly want me for me."
Bruce nodded, as if he had expected no less. "You can stay here until that bullet wound heals and we'll go from there."
She nodded just a little to show her approval of the idea.
"If you are to stay here for any length of time than we cannot simply call you 'girl'. You require a name." Damien's imperious statement set everyone thinking.
Everyone came up with several suggestions, except the girl who seemed content to watch and listen, but all were rejected. Until Dick, who was concentrating on name meanings, found the perfect one.
He snapped his fingers together and raised his hand in a gesture that was reminiscent of a small child in class. "Shamira. It's Hebrew guardian or protector. We can call her Mira for short. It's perfect!"
The ensuing debate about the merits of the name was silenced by a single, quiet sentence from the girl on the bed. "I like it."
"Shamira it is then," Tim said with a decisive nod.
She gave a faint smile. "Sounds great."