Stephanie didn't remember what had happened at first. She thought she was still with Selina, Catwoman, that she has to get up and 'do' something about all the trouble she'd caused, find some way to make up for it, anything. The universe let her keep thinking that for a little, while, but that only made it worse when the realization finally hit her.

It came to her in pieces. The chill of manacles on her wrists. The echoing chink of the chains when she tried to change her position. All she could see when she opened her eyes were some blurry yellow lights that made it through whatever it was that her head had been stuffed into.

All of her weight was hanging on her arms and shoulders, her feet dangling just a fraction of an inch off the ground, just high enough to make stretching down her toes to take some of the weight 'very' uncomfortable. If the lack of feeling in her arms and the sharp, stabbing pain between her shoulder blades was any indication, she must have been hanging there for hours. Ha, good, the more time she'd been hanging there, the longer the others have had to find… She got her feet under her and put her weight on her toes, taking some of the strain off her shoulders.

They thought she was still with Catwoman, didn't they? Where she was supposed to be, where Batman had left her and told her to stay until he'd fixed everything. No one had the time to be looking for her.

Her heart rate sped up and she tugged on the chains, testing them for some way to get out. This was just another crazy, right. If he were going to kill her, he would have done it by now. Someone would come for her eventually, and nothing would happen to her until then. Just a little more, she just had to hold out a little more.

A harsh, deep chuckle, like a saw splintering through dry wood reached her ears. "Finally awake?" Light suddenly flooded her eyes, blinding her as the man ripped the bag off her head and left it to drop to a soggy puddle on the ground. Stephanie flinched back, tried to shield her eyes from the brightness, but hard, bony hands cupped the back of her head almost gently if not for the harsh way the fingers pulled at her hair and forced her head back to the front. "None of that now, you're a guest in my house, it's 'very' rude to ignore your host."

Stephanie's eyes split open, only a little at firsts and then blown wide when she got a look at the hideous, black charred skin stretched taught along his skull like, a gaping hole where a nose should have been. She kicked out, tried to get that 'thing' as far away from her as possible.

"That's more like it." His hands tightened further in her hair and he 'pulled' so hard she thought he's pull her scalp from her head and angled her neck back painfully to make her look at him at the scalpel held daintily between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand.

Her terrified reflection gaped back at her from the gleaming steel blade.

She just had to hold on long enough for someone to find her, just had to…

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The scalpel had been first, but it hadn't been the worst, so sharp she'd barely felt the cuts at first. He'd taken her hand in his, held it palm up while he asked her questions, so many questions, most of which she didn't even know the answers to in the first place. Every tendon, every nerve he cut through he called by name, long strings of scientific jargon, he told her how much it would hurt before he made the incision. Even after he'd doused the cuts in something that burned so badly Steph could have sworn he'd set her on fire, when she'd screamed herself so hoarse she didn't think her vocal cords would ever be the same. It still wasn't the worst.

They'd started looking for her by now, she was sure of it. It had been long enough for them to find a fix, right?

No, the worst had come what felt like a forever later, when she'd grown so accustomed to the feel of her skin splitting open, to the blood falling in her face and soaking through her closes, drying and chafing against her skin, the feel of her bones grinding together. He'd worked on her for hours brought her second away from falling into the calm of oblivion before he stopped, doused her in alcohol and left her alone for hours with that sack over her head until he'd returned and repeated the process. It all blurred together after a while, and Steph couldn't have picked up where one thing had begun and another had ended if her life depended on it, each and every one making her think nothing could possibly hurt more.

He grew impatient. Threatened her with pain beyond what she could have imagine, as if he thought she could have imagined 'any' of what he'd done to her already . Steph told him to drop dead. He didn't like that.

Any second now. Oracle had already picked up Steph's trail on her network of cameras. She'd held on so long. Any second now.

The shrieking of the power drill as it 'tore' through her flesh, ground her bones and marrow both, set every nerve in Stephanie's body screaming at her to do anything, say anything to make it 'stop'. If he'd stopped right then, if she'd been able to form 'any' words that might have been heard over the drill, could have made any sound, period, other than the screams that made him grin, his yellowed, bulging eyes glowing with delight at the pain searing though her.

Where were they. The couldn't have been that mad at her right? Why were they taking so long? Didn't they know she was sorry. She was SORRY! She begged for them to come for her, but the screaming wouldn't STOP!

That was the worst, and when he left her, promising something even worse to celebrate his return, goddamn her, Stephanie believed him, she believed, and the part of her that broke then, she knew she'd never get back.

How much was left?

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They weren't coming for her. The realizatio set in slowly over the hours and hours and hours passed and he didn't come back. In the quiet, past the fragmented whispers of her mind, the thought entered that maybe, just maybe if they'd forgotten about her, he would too, convinced that if she was quiet enough he might never come back, she just had to be…

The chains clinked and the fronts of her feet, already scraped bloody, brushed against the rough carpet. Fuck, he could have heard that, she needed to stop her body from swaying, but her feet refused to obey her commands to so much as twitch, never mind supporting her weight. If she could have done that, she would have been able to feel her shoulders, could have eased the deep sitting pain between her shoulder blades even if just a little.

Steph closed her eyes and tried to think about literally anything else. Tim. Tim with his sweet, shy grins whenever she got real close to him. His excitement when he narrated the Wizards and Warlocks campaigns he played with his school friends. When he got really into a case and that serious, broody line appeared between his eyes.

'Drip, drip, drip'

That was a new sound, or maybe it had been there all along and she was only now taking note of it. That meant there had to be water somewhere nearby, right? God, she was so thirsty. Or maybe it was just more of her blood, it was probably more of her blood, from the stinging slashes that covered her body, ran down her limbs and coagulated at her joins, leaving them itchy even stiffer. NO, something else, she was supposed to be thinking of something else.

Cass. The pain could have been from one of her sparring sessions with Cass. The other girl 'did' get really rough sometimes, but it was okay it was still fun. They'd laugh it off, and have a snack, and when Steph had rested up they'd play a game of hide and seek, or rooftop tag.

The chains swayed again and Steph whimpered at the pain that laced through her shoulders, spread throughout most of the rest of her from there.

There was nothing she would have done to get that back. Even if she never set foot in the Batcave again, if they hated her forever and burned every suit she owned. Just to see them one more time. Steph tried to make herself believe that if she just opened her eyes, they'd be there, right there in front of her.

At the same time, she was terrified that if she did, 'he'd' be there instead. He'd done that once, waited for her to wake up and she'd opened her eyes to his frozen grin, crazed euphoria at the mere anticipation of what was to come. She didn't want to see that again, never wanted to ever have to see that again if she never slept a minute for the rest of however long she had left to live.

But then, what did it matter what she wanted? She'd wanted to be a superhero, then even that hadn't been enough for her and she'd wanted to be 'Robin', had worked so hard towards that goal, harder than she'd ever worked before and for what?

How many people, good, innocent people were suffering right now because of her? Because she'd gotten uppity and thought she could be more than she was ever meant to be. What made her so special that she should be safe and happy after she'd caused all that? She didn't deserve Tim, or Cass, or Robin, or 'any' of it, any of them.

Tears built up around her eyes, how she couldn't have said when she was so dehydrated every breath scraped she was trying to swallow a mouthful of sandpaper strips.

She wanted to see her mother again. Even if she never got anything else, even if she had to endure this for years and years, she wanted her mom, but even that was too much to ask for, wasn't it. How much longer before she broke completely and told him everything?

A sob tore its way out of her throat and turned quickly into a series of coughs that shook her whole body, setting every torn nerve and severed bit of flesh ablaze all over again. It was agony and the coughing just wouldn't stop, she couldn't breathe and it wouldn't STOP.

Tears stung her cheeks and more blood was dribbling from her chin. Oh god, he was going to hear her, be reminded she was there and come back to make it hurt even worse. Stephanie didn't even care who saw her as she renewed her almost forgotten struggles to free her hands, to break them out of the shackles, just one. Just so she could gap the few feet between her and the gleaming tools lined up so neatly on that little table he left out to remind her of him while he was gone.

There was a crash, wood splintering and Stephanie's head whipped towards the sound. He was angry, soon he'd be screaming, stomping into the room and, turning whatever new torture he'd thought up on her. The scalpel he'd used to slice up her fingers was 'right' there. If she could just 'reach' it.

Just a glimpse of black and she closed her eyes, skewed them shut so tightly it tore open the sealed cuts along her head and let fresh blood dribble down her temples. The footsteps that followed the cuts were quiet, so quiet she had to strain her ears to pick them up. There was a gasp and they stopped completely.

Steph waited, but nothing came. Her eyes slipped open and instead of Black Mask with a knife, or a drill, or a hot iron, there was a boy in a plain black hoody. The wide gaping teal eyes that peeked though messy curled bangs reflected only a small amount of the horror Steph felt at seeing him there.

She wanted to scream at him to get out. To get away before Black Mask came back. That way she could have saved at least one, just one person for all the dozens she must have killed by now, but her lips wouldn't form the words.

His hand reached out towards her, gloved fingertips barely brushing against her cheeks, the only touch she'd felt in forever that hadn't come along with pain, then he drew back as though her touch had burned in and stumbled back. Steph found her voice.

"Don't go." She screamed, pulling on her chains, hating herself for every word that crawled its way up her throat, but she couldn't stop, and he was still leaving, he'd ducked out of the stupidly elaborate doorway and she was all alone again, so she begged and cried, ugly sobs that broke her broken body even further. Knowing all the while that it was useless. "Please don't leave me here! Please, please, please help me! Don't leave me here with him, please I'll do anything." Her voice died of until all that broke their way through were whispers of,"Please, please, please, please…"

The boy appeared again, a pair of bolt cutters in hand. He walked towards her, his icy expression set in stone and she fell silent. He grabbed a chair as he approached and slid it under her, giving her a way to get her weight on her feet instead of the chains. For a second it felt so good, the feeling rushed back to her arms and Steph had to bite back a cry.

"… fine, it's not that bad." He muttered, his voice deep and gravely, but even as he ran his hands over the chains at her wrists, breaking loose flakes of blood that broke off and fluttered down to settle on her shoulders and chest, before he fit the cutters into place. She knew enough to tell when someone was talking to themselves and not her, but she took some comfort in his words anyway.

The chains snapped and Stephanie toppled over, unable to keep herself upright without them. The boy caught her before she could hit the ground and though the jarring motion brought attention back to the wreck that was her body, she welcomed the arms wrapping around her.

The idea that 'he' might be what Black Mask had sent to hurt her with doesn't even cross her mind until he knelt with her on the blood soaked carpet and brushed his hands lightly along her arms, pausing at each visible injury, then repeated the process with her legs.

Steph brought up the strength to attempt a struggle, not that it had much effect in her weakened state. His eyes snapped to lock with hers and he pulled his hands away, held them up besides his head. "You're okay, I'm here to help." His eyes lost that icy sheen, became warm and bright and earnest, as his stiff posture melted away. "You're gonna be okay."

There was something so familiar about the shift, blatantly artificial as it was, about the boy, that she found herself believing him. She held her arms to him and he sighed out of soft puff of air that brushed against her neck when he leaned over to pick her up. She'd just let herself hope again when he stood up and saw what his large body had been blocking from her view.

Black Mask crept up behind them, a steel bat raised above his head. Steph tried to shout out a warning, but she was too late. Instead of spinning to face the threat, the boy curled over her to protect her from the strike.

He dropped Steph and she went rolling. She held out the one arm that was working to stop herself. He was lying on the ground, blood running down his neck and a gun clutched limply in his hand, he raised the weapon, but before he could fire the bat came down again and knocked it clean out of his hand, clattering to the floor and skidding far out of his reach.

"Oh, we got a hero here, huh?" Black Mask loosened his tie and grunted as he swung again. "Thought you'd save the little girl huh?" Another swing, hard and brutal. "Thought you'd 'mess' with my 'stuff'!"

Steph lunged for the weapon, already foreseeing how this would end. She wouldn't be responsible for another death. Wouldn't let him die because she'd been too weak to get herself out of the danger she'd thrown herself into.

The boy's pained grunts at least proved he was alive, Stephanie's hands closed around the barrel of the gun and she fired of a shot at random, pulling Masks attention to her.

"Leave him alone!" She demanded, her heat beating rapidly in her throat as she leveled the gun at Mask.

He blinked once then, burst out laughing and raised the bat again, completely dismissing her. "You're not a killer, don't have it in you." He swung down again, aiming for the boy's head. Steph pulled the trigger.

Both Mask and the boy reared back, shock blatant on their features as a red spot bloomed on one of Black Mask's filthy white sleeves.

Steph used the table to pull herself to her feet, knocking over the tools laid atop it in the process. "I said," She gritted her teeth, the sight of the bloody boy, dazed and struggling to pull himself up driving her heart rate, the adrenaline that flooded her system into overdrive . "Leave him alone!"

Black Mask growled and charged at Stephanie. Her body reacted in her intense panic more than her brain did, and before she could think of the consequences, of what she was 'doing' she squeezed the trigger again, then again and again. Each shot pushed him back, halted his progress more and more. The flash of each bullet lighting the room for one brilliant moment and blinding them for the next.

Her tormentor was an unmoving lump on the ground, and a soft 'click' replaced the BANG every time she pulled the trigger, still Steph couldn't stop. Tears blurring her vision so baldy she barely made out the shape that approached from the edges of her vision, unable to take her eyes off the mess of bleeding flesh before her.

'Click.'

Her fingers squeezed around the trigger before his face swam into view.

'Click, click, click, click, click…'

"Calm down Stephanie, it's over, it's okay, you're safe…" he punctuated each step with another soft, useless reassurance. A hand moved up slowly, to the still clicking gun and wrapped around the muzzle, gentle, but firm as he pushed it down. "He's gone, he's not gonna hurt you ever again, not gonna hurt anyone."

He blocked her view of the corpse and she wanted to scream at him to move aside, to get out of her way so she could, so she could…

Stephanie sobbed, the gun falling from limp fingers into his hand as she fell forwards and lets the boy wrap his arms around her. He was warm and smelled of gunpowder and cigarretes and... and paper, it was almost enough to over power the stench of blood and sweat and everything else she didnt even want to think of. She didnt want to think of anything anymore.

"I got ya, you're okay." He hooked a hand behind her knees and lifted her up off the ground, keeping a her head pressed into his chest and blinding her to where she was being carried off to.

It didn't matter; she was too far-gone to process anything she would have seen, not with that room, the bloody corpse they left bleeding out there, branded vividly to the insides of her eyelids.

Why hadn't she listened when they'd told her she'd fail? Why hadn't she just stayed safe at home?