cw: suggestive themes (aka a lemon) but also a few reasons to be sad

"They say don't open old wounds, but you're still brand new

And all the flames you said you ran through, you got a little more to prove

One day I'll give you my heart when it's not in two

They say don't open old wounds, but I'm going to

I think I could love you 'til the day that you die

If you let me love you when the time is right"

~ PVRIS, "Old Wounds"

Chapter 44: The Girl with the Magic Hands

Present day (Twelve more days)

Pain was no stranger to him. It never had been, not since he'd been taught to embrace it, learn from it, control it, all before he understood anything else such as love or happiness. In all its forms, Damian was expected to handle pain whether it was physical, mental, or emotional. If he could endure metal slicing his skin, he must be able to withstand psychological warfare. Pain was not supposed to bend his will or strength — his mother had made sure of it.

So what would Talia al Ghul think of her son enjoying pain?

Shocks of pleasure kindled in his body as Jess bit and sucked at the slope between his neck and shoulder. His fingers tangled into her hair as he clutched the back of her head, relishing in the assault on his skin. It complemented the slow and sweet rhythm at which she moved up and down on his shaft — Damian let his head fall back into her hand, almost closing his eyes from the ecstasy reverberating throughout his limbs.

Was his upbringing the reason why he never stopped her when she bit his lip, leaving it swollen? Did his early and continuous experiences with pain have something to do with how the discomforting sensations were mere fuel to his fiery lust?

To Damian's disappointment, Jess released his skin from between her teeth. He was about to tell her to do it again when she made the torturous decision to raise her hips until he was almost completely out… then sink down again to fully and gradually sheathe him back inside. The groan in his throat was compulsory and so was the grasping of his hands at her waist.

Without warning, he stood from the chair, cradling her in his arms, and went to Jess's bed across the room. Holding himself above her, Damian had more freedom and thus, he knew how to make her react the way he wanted. The soft outcry she made into his mouth was rewarding as he moved slowly, deeply into her like she had been in his lap. Her fingers were quick to find his back, gouging and dragging across smooth skin and then—

His labored breaths paused as sharp aches ignited beneath scar tissue, but his hips didn't. They found new enthusiasm instead, egged on by Jess's tightened grip on him.

This was the cycle of pain and pleasure that he knew. One led to the other, and oftentimes, there was no distinction, making them one and the same. But it was the recipe for reaching his body's peak, especially when Jess and her muscles were constricting around him as she finally came. The teeth closing aggressively onto his shoulder pulled a guttural sound from Damian — it hurt so good that his eyes all but rolled back into his head. She held on with both her hands and mouth as he gave in to the agonizing bliss, allowing it to swallow him whole.

Looking at her would remind him of his mother's visit and the expectations she had. That night hadn't left Damian's thoughts, paired with worries that he fought with feeble self-assurance, his own attempts at convincing himself that no disaster was on the horizon.

Except he'd grown up with a healthy sense of cynicism and the notion that he must always be prepared for the worst. He could thank both his father and grandfather for that.

For now, Damian focused on the simple task of making a grocery trip with her not long after the time spent in her bed. It was a mundane thing to do, a chore Alfred had requested, yet it was something he could use to his advantage because a scavenger hunt for food and household items was boring and tedious enough to keep him occupied.

It was while standing in a boxed food aisle that he felt Jess's presence at his side after running off to the candy section. She asked if he was alright, and Damian only glanced up at her, unsure of what made her think he wasn't. How had he given it away?

"You were pretty quiet on the way here, and I've never seen you take so long to read the back of a macaroni and cheese box."

Damian tossed that very box into the cart she had pushed over and met her eyes. "You've caught me," he admitted.

Her patient gaze had him adding, "I haven't been sleeping well."

"What's going on? Trouble in Wayne Enterprises paradise?"

"Tt," he couldn't help scoffing at her choice of words. "If working for my father is considered paradise, I'd hate to see what hell is."

"Couldn't find any chocolate-covered raisins, so I'd say we're in it."

The jokes Jess was cracking didn't meet her eyes. Even after what they'd just done less than an hour ago, a certain tiredness still swam in her gaze and in the smile she wore… yet that was because sex and its lasting effects had an expiration date as well. Like drugs, alcohol, or perhaps chasing down thieves and villains, such a "distraction" was temporary. It was a bandage that felt good, numbing, relieving in its moments, while the wound continued to sting beneath.

And Damian knew this well — his own wounds continued to ache after all.

"I feel… as though I am expected to perform at a certain standard," he found himself saying as they traveled down the aisles, sidestepping other shoppers and glancing at the list Alfred had written for him.

Jess said nothing, which only told him that she was still listening. So he spoke.

He didn't have to go into detail explaining that he'd grown up with his mother's hopes that she'd held even before he could walk. He didn't have to outline what exactly the al Ghul or Batman legacies were because even living up to the Wayne name was a daunting passage in itself. There was no point in briefing Jess on the two paths that had been stretched before him, how agreeing to join Bruce and Tim at the company was another experience that reminded him that Damian Wayne had to be… something. Or someone.

Over a month at Wayne Enterprises and yet he still felt eyes on his back as he walked the hallways and sat in meetings.

"That's Bruce Wayne's actual son," their stares said. "Was he as brilliant and charitable as his father? Did he have the skills and knowledge necessary to follow in his footsteps?"

How did he measure up next to Timothy Drake, a man who was intelligent in his own right and had already made a name for himself as a civilian regardless of what he used to do behind a mask?

"They hide it, but I know how they see me," Damian said in a tone that suggested exactly how he was feeling about the subject. He waited until a father with two small children passed by before continuing on quietly.

"In their eyes, I'm merely Bruce Wayne's biological offspring because I haven't achieved the kinds of things Grayson or Drake have."

Though he had accomplished so much… as Robin. When self-doubt didn't reign, Damian knew his years wearing the name mattered. Every criminal locked behind bars, each mission as a Titan or at the Justice League's side had made a certain difference. Dick didn't have to tell him this.

Damian did not want to consider how even Jason had also managed to force a place for himself after his death and resurrection.

"So you feel like you have something to prove?"

It was a well-known fact that he possessed more skills and intellect than the average person, yet Damian couldn't help facing the fact that what Jess had said was correct: he still felt obligated to make it clear that he was worthy.

But of what?

The title of Ra's al Ghul, Batman's cowl, the Wayne empire… He did not know.

After dropping a loaf of whole grain bread into the cart, she mused, "Maybe choosing between your parents and what they expect of you doesn't mean committing to their expectations… or you don't even have to choose between them at all.

"Just because you want to be here with Bruce, that doesn't mean you've signed away your right to figure out who you are and decide your own future."

Damian raised a brow. "If only Grayson could see you now."

Her laugh was followed by an eye roll. "It's easier to think through someone else's issues than your own. Whatever 'advice' I just gave you, I can't figure out how to do that for myself."

"Is that what you need? Advice?"

Jess's gaze dropped to her hands where she was reaching for her ring. Almost reflexively, Damian closed his fingers around hers — she squeezed them in return.

"More like time."

"You're worried about life after high school."

"You've caught me," she echoed his words from earlier.

Then Jess sighed and said, "I'm just trying to be grateful that I'm even here. With you, with Misty, Quinn… Even if I have no idea what I'm doing with my life three or six months from now, I owe it to you and Bruce that I'm here at all."

"You don't owe us any—"

Her finger pressed onto his lips, prompting creased brows from Damian as he looked down at her.

"I'm not trying to stay in the top ten percent of my class just to make my record look good," she told him with an artful grin. "A scholarship from Bruce Wayne would be a total waste if I didn't ace all my classes to make it worthwhile."

Just as Jess turned to scan the shelves for the broth on the handwritten list, Damian took notice of the group of teenagers that had been several feet away. With an outburst of laughter and taunts toward one another, they hurried by. One of them, a girl with blonde braids, laid fascinated eyes first on him — lingering for seconds too long — and then Jess, who was staring back with… Hm. It couldn't have been a smile. No, it was the kind of disingenuous lifting of her lips that appeared to be a smile and was laced with venomous passive aggression.

He'd seen his mother give the same look to enemies and men who'd dared disrespect her… even Damian himself had never been afraid to share such an expression with the likes of Ian Caufield.

The blonde gave a small wave before taking off after her friends, and he couldn't help the knowing smirk curving his lips as he watched Jess step towards the shelves.

"What?"

"You don't like her."

"I mean, I don't not like her…"

He paused, gaze trained on the teenagers' backs as they rounded the corner of the aisle. "Isn't her mother Adelaide Montgomery from Montgomery and Associates?"

"I dunno," Jess said, busy looking between two different cans of broth. "All I know is that in biology class, Hanna Montgomery and Friends like to talk about you when I'm around."

She snorted. "A couple weeks ago, they had that magazine with you, Tim, and Bruce on it and proceeded to talk about how you could get literally any supermodel in the world or something like that."

"That's childish."

"It's high school."

He was about to ask her for more detail when Jess walked up to him and cradled his face between her warm hands. Those pretty, hazel eyes bore into his as she gave him a sort of scrutinizing expression. (To this day, none of the drawings in his sketchbook came close to them. Damian could only hope that he'd have more days, months... years... studying her irises, more chances to get it right.)

"You know, I'm pretty sure Damian Wayne will do what he wants anyway no matter what anyone else says. Whatever he puts his mind to, whether it's proving something to other people — even though he doesn't have to — or something else, he'll definitely do it. I mean, the guy is too proud not to."

He shot her a pointed look, though she simply kept on with the feigned enthusiasm of a gossiping teenager.

"Trust me, I've met him. Huge ego, comes off real brash sometimes…" Jess trailed off, both her tone and eyes shifting into something warmer, less playful, "... but he makes up for it because he's the kind of person you want to see when you feel like shit or to have your back if no one else will."

Damian opened his mouth to speak, but then Jess was giving a sigh as she grasped the handle of the cart and looked back at him.

"In all seriousness… you're really one of the best people I know, ya amar. All those idiots at Wayne Enterprises don't know how lucky they are to have you blessing them with your presence and that big brain of yours — but I do."

A tender fire blossomed in his chest, and he found himself smiling a little… for mere moments before remembering that she might very well change her mind once she knew what he hid from her. She might see him in a different light. Or darkness.

Hanna and her group of friends were hanging out in the parking lot near his car later on. Damian felt their gazes as he shut the trunk and Jess stood next to him, thumbs busy on her phone. (A quick peek told him she was discussing homework with her own group of peers).

"Shamsi."

"Huh?"

"Are Montgomery and Friends watching?"

Her puzzled gaze flickered from the phone screen to somewhere behind him. Amusement replaced the confusion as Jess replied, "Hopefully my eyes deceive me because I'm ninety-nine percent sure one of them just checked out your ass—"

With one step, he pressed Jess against the side of the vehicle and kissed her, one gloved hand sliding behind her neck. He could feel the astonishment in her mouth for a brief second until she returned the gesture. Their breaths fogged in the chilled air as her wide, hazel eyes turned up to meet his own in incredulity.

"Are they still watching?"

Peeking over, she snickered upon realization. "You are so…" Jess could only laugh again to finish her sentence, pink dusting her cheeks. "But yes, they're actually staring now."

Instead of responding, Damian kissed her again, and this time, he felt her smiling against his lips.

"I see what you did there," she murmured then pulled back to get a better look at him. "Wait. 'Shamsi'... Did you call me your sun?"

Damian grinned a little. "I did."

"God, you're so cheesy, but I love it."

"I blame you for such cringe worthy behavior."

"And I'll take full responsibility."

"Ya amar."

Damian quirked a brow from across the table, watching the meager smile spread across her face while she stabbed at the pasta on her plate. Not only had she just spoken a term he hadn't taught her but she'd also pronounced it quite well. He was impressed.

"I'm your moon?"

"I was thinking about what Kira said when we met her at the club: 'yin and yang, sun and moon.' You're definitely more like the moon."

"I suppose that makes you the sun."

Jess let out a light chuckle and shook her head. "Not really. I don't think I accurately reflect the sun and its, uh, bright qualities."

"I disagree. What qualities of the moon do I have then?"

"I'm probably going to wax poetic here, but just like the moon, you can be hot and cold. If I remember from astronomy class correctly, it depends on where the sun is shining. Either way, you're always there, during the day or at night… good times and bad."

After they entered his car, Jess looking with the ghost of a smirk towards the teenagers that had begun walking away (not without discreet glances back), Damian wondered if she also knew that there were craters on the moon that were buried in obscurity. They never saw sunlight, thus harboring ice deposits that might never melt.

Because not even the bright sun could easily reach every side of the moon, not having once warmed its darkest parts.

A good number of her peers had already applied for and been accepted into various universities across the country or even abroad. Jess's current plan was, well, not quite the same. Even after a few conversations with Lora, the teen didn't exactly have the inclination to follow into traditional footsteps of going into postsecondary education. She had a decent idea of what she was good at, what she was interested in, but everything that had culminated after her parents' deaths and the life she'd turned to had sort of thrown her for a loop. All Jess had cared about for a year now was finishing school, staying on the right track, staying out of trouble, building and maintaining her relationships with people…

Where in all that did she have the time to consider what she wanted to do beyond all of it?

"I don't know. I guess I'm just looking forward to finally graduating and… doing whatever I want after."

From where she lay sprawled across her own bed, Misty glanced over with a curious glint in her dark eyes. "And what would that be?"

"Well, therein lies the problem," Jess answered while making a face of embarrassment. She sank further into the bean bag and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know the answer to that either."

"I think you deserve a break."

"What do you mean?"

Misty rolled over and propped her head in her hand, gesturing towards Jess with the other. "You've been working your ass off nonstop for a year to… be better. You spent your entire summer with a tutor, being on probation, getting stuck with me at that facility—" she wore a sly grin, "—working community service. And now you're finishing high school as one of the top students of your class despite all this crap you've been through.

"Who cares if you don't know what you wanna do yet? People take gap years all the time before going off to college anyway 'cause they need to live life a little."

Jess was mulling over her friend's words when she added in a thrilled tone, "Go on vacation with your boyfriend! Visit the Bahamas or something, somewhere sunny and warm unlike this damn city."

A smile pulled at her lips at the thought. Getting away with Damian for a week or two (or more) sounded amazing for sure. It'd be even better than that weekend they'd had to themselves.

She'd never been to Thailand before, and back when the two of them had played a mini version of 20 Questions in that diner so long ago, Damian had mentioned it as one of the places he would live.

"Inexpensive living, great food, and very peaceful," he'd said.

All of that to experience with him? Jess was already on board. Just the thought made her forget the dangers that awaited her somewhere in this very city, lurking in heavy shadows and searching for her.

Almost.

It was just another reason she'd suggested they do their home yoga tonight; Jess had been needing more things lately to keep her mind and body busy so that her thoughts wouldn't wander. She couldn't even wear her bracelet — somehow, it would burn on her wrist while in the middle of a pose and trying simply to clear her mind and not think about anything or anyone… not even Damian. The same went for her rings. (Plus, wearing any jewelry was kind of annoying anyway while doing any exercise but the purpose was still the same.)

"Okay, so Quinn's mom said that as long as she gets As or Bs on all tests or assignments up until prom, she can go," Jess began as she exited Misty's room after changing into her regular clothes.

Her friend had gone in search of dinner in the kitchen, Maya having made sure there were leftovers for the two days she was gone in case her little sister didn't want to cook (and make sure she didn't order takeout).

"Did you find—?"

Jess halted in her tracks upon the sight that made her heart jump into her throat. Four unfamiliar figures stood in the living room, and Misty was sitting on one of the dining table chairs…

With a gun pointed to her head.

The air wouldn't reach her lungs. Jess watched as the other teen made eye contact, her dark eyes dilated in visible fear. Only three of the intruders were wearing masks that concealed their faces; the fourth one stepped forward and pulled back their hood.

He couldn't have been much older than Damian, possibly not even as old as Tim, with short, dark hair cut crisply into a fade. Flat, gray irises ran over her frozen figure once before the young man spoke in a strangely soft voice.

"Nice to finally meet you, Jess. I've heard a lot about you."

Her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to ask anyway, "And who are you?"

Every muscle in her body screamed to react as he moved to stand within arm's reach. His tawny skin was without flaws, bringing out the eyes that made her feel like they saw right through her. Jess didn't like it.

"You can call me Phoenix." Catching the widening of her gaze, he smiled a little and nodded. "If you're thinking of the one that Beth and Jax Eastman worked with, that's me."

Yes, that was exactly who had come to mind when he'd said it. Jess had never really known a whole lot about the mysterious business partner, but now that she was putting a face to the name, reality was hitting her: someone from her previous life was standing in this living room, obviously wanting something.

They wouldn't have a barrel pointed at her best friend's head otherwise.

Phoenix took a few more steps closer, holding out one hand towards Jess, whose wary gaze flickered from his outstretched palm to his face. Before she could consider why he was doing that or what it meant, he suddenly dragged a small knife into his skin. She could feel every person in the room watching her, though there was something particularly intense about Phoenix's eyes.

He gestured with the bleeding hand, so Jess gave him what he wanted.

Instead of moving closer to him, she reached out, too. They didn't need to be all that close anyway; her own fingers hovered about a foot away from the wound, emanating with the familiar light, and within seconds, it was healed. Phoenix stared for a long moment and then wiped the blood onto his jacket as if the cut would still be there underneath. It definitely wasn't.

"They weren't kidding," the young man praised as he looked up at Jess. "That's… wow."

Taking a deep breath, he went on, "Well, I'll cut to the chase now because I don't really have a lot of patience, and I've already spent a lot of time and resources looking for you.

"I doubt the Eastmans possessed enough humility or honesty to inform their little gang, but they owed — well, owe — me a lot of money. And since you all got yourselves caught last year, that debt has gone unpaid."

She already knew where this was going. Jess shifted uncomfortably as he stopped at her side, scrutinizing the teen in a way that made her skin crawl.

"How often would you say you're at Wayne Manor?"

Jess's breath stuttered.

Phoenix continued on, "You spend a lot of time around Bruce Wayne's son, don't you?... How big would you say it is?"

Her eyes snapped to meet his and her brows wrinkled in bewilderment. Was he actually asking her about Damian's…?

The young man chuckled a little before glancing over at his men and then back at her. "I'm asking about the mansion."

"What do you want with Damian?" Jess cut in, unamused.

Phoenix straightened up, and she avoided eye contact. Her gaze fell instead on Misty, who had barely budged during the entire encounter so far.

"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "I'm more interested in what you can do to repay what you cost me." When she didn't respond, he walked slowly around her, a bird circling its prey. "The Waynes must have a plethora of priceless items in that mansion."

She swallowed in hopes the lump in her throat would go away. "You want me to steal from them?"

"Nothing you haven't done before."

"I can't do—"

"You can," he said abruptly as he stopped in front of her. His gray irises were cold metal against trembling hazel ones. "Family heirlooms, thousand-dollar suit jackets, Martha Wayne's old jewelry — I don't care what it is as long as it pays the debt."

Jess watched as he turned to look behind him where Misty was still sitting, the nervousness and terror never having left her figure. Intrigue crossed Phoenix's face as he examined Jess.

"You thought I came all the way here because of your… abilities."

"Who wouldn't?" she heard herself say in a tone that was too bitter to come off nonchalant.

Phoenix made the slightest smirk that could've rivaled Damian's. "You thought correctly. The other option is to help us take something…

"Gotham's a large city with plenty of names in the underworld fighting for a piece of it. I think it's only fair if the newcomers get a chance." His eyes flickered over her, something like determination in them. "And having someone like you increases those odds."

Jess's mouth went dry as she urged, "No, I'm not doing that again—"

"So you'd rather betray your boyfriend instead?"

When she didn't answer, he approached Misty, who was still visibly immobile in the chair. Jess wanted to say something to protest or give herself time, but nothing would come to her except simmering panic and sweaty palms.

"I'll give you a couple days to make your choice. And… I highly doubt I need to tell you what'll happen if you run to GCPD or your infamous Batman and Robin or—" Ice cold alarm flooded her veins at the sight of him reaching for Misty's neck, "—simply fail to do what I want."

And then with one clean motion of the small knife, Phoenix slit the teen's throat.

"No!"

Eyes widened, Jess stood there, a statue of fear, as the bright red escaped from the inches-long gape in her friend's skin. And then something kickstarted — by the panic or horror, she wasn't sure — prompting her body to react faster than her brain. She was across the room in an instant just as Misty toppled over onto the floor. Phoenix and his men, who had disappeared, were already forgotten.

"No, no, no," Jess heard herself repeating as the other teen stared up at her, brown eyes filled with raw fear. "No, no…"

She closed her own hands over the bloody wound as the glow emitted from them. Desperation drove her, forced the power in her very genes to mend the ugly gash. At the same time, the physical feeling of Misty rapidly losing blood nearly sickened her; it didn't help that she could also practically taste what her friend was experiencing — Misty felt like she was suffocating. Her body was begging to be saved.

"Misty, I've got you, okay? I'm right here, I-I've got you…"

The light of her power was dim. It was faltering, interrupted by the panic whittling away at her nerves. In Misty's eyes, she saw her mother's and then her father's. She saw how they'd laid there among the wreckage, one life hanging by a fragile thread and the other already gone. She remembered vividly how the chance to save that one life had quite literally slipped from out of her hands, haunting her to this day and costing her her father. The blood on her hands was warm as Jess pushed past the hysteria threatening to let Misty die.

She was not going to let her die.

Something forceful rushed through Jess. She felt the wound mend, the skin pulling together and sealing… And then it was gone, Misty's neck completely unmarked with the exception of the blood that had smeared beneath Jess's trembling hands. Her heart galloped away, but so did Misty's — between her own body and her friend's, the combined yet fading panic and anguish was almost disorienting. The warm tears escaping didn't faze Jess as she stared down at her, those terrified eyes staring right back.

"I'm s-sorry…"

Everything in her seemed to break. Her posture crumbled, sending the teen crying in defeat into Misty's blood-stained chest. She cut their connection and all the power she'd wielded pulled back, leaving her hands bloody and Jess alone in the pain and despair.

Two days later, she was back at her friend's house, standing in her bedroom doorway after Maya had let her in. Misty was curled up beneath the comforter, dressed in a sweater and bare-faced. At first sight, Jess could tell she'd hardly slept: the circles were dark under her eyes, which seemed a little swollen. Like she'd been crying.

She hadn't responded to any of her texts. She'd been active in the group chat with Quinn, Zach, and a few other people, announcing yesterday morning that she had a migraine. Some of their friends had responded or made jokes, though Jess hadn't found it in herself to say anything… not when part of her figured the migraine was a lie. Considering recent events, there had to be a number of reasons Misty had decided not to go to school yesterday or today.

Jess managed to ask, "How are you?"

"Alive."

Misty's gaze was trained on the phone in her hands as she scrolled away, like she had better things to do than pay attention to Jess.

"Just wanted to see how you were, uh, holding up… since you've been absent," Jess went on, holding up the stack of papers that Quinn had given her. "Guess you have a math quiz tomorrow, so—"

"Not showing up tomorrow either," she said sharply. Tension was present in the way she got out of bed and grabbed the small bag belonging to Jess as well as the little blue device from her desk.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but Jess could've sworn that her friend stopped an arm's length away and not any closer.

Misty handed them over, her gaze on the floor. "He buzzed you a shit ton yesterday. I couldn't figure out how to turn it off."

"Yeah…" Jess answered tentatively. "I told him I left it here."

The silence that followed was disquieting. She was scrambling for something else to say when the other teen muttered,

"You should go."

Jess's eyes stung as she stood there, unsure of how to react.

"Get out," Misty said quietly, her small frame hunched over on the floor.

Jess tried to get a better look at her friend's face through the tears. "What?"

"Get out."

Dark eyes raised to meet hers, filled with something heavy, intense… cold. When she didn't budge, Misty suddenly hastened, "I'm serious, Jess, get out."

There was something particularly shocking about the scene with blood smeared across her neck and anguished tears in her gaze. Jess wasn't sure if it was disgust or hurt or betrayal or all of the above that Misty wore, but it took a "Leave me alone!" this time to do the trick.

In hindsight, Jess couldn't believe she'd had the strength to do what the other teen had asked… demanded. As much as it hurt to be pushed away after what had happened, it was obvious why: Misty had been put into a precarious situation and nearly lost her life, and if that wasn't traumatic enough, she had witnessed the secret Jess had been keeping from her.

But Jess still had to try.

"I'll go with you," she'd told Quinn at their table during lunch. Quinn had mentioned stopping by Misty's to drop off homework. "Pretty sure I left my bracelet and some other things there anyway."

It was true; in the aftermath of the encounter with Phoenix and then Misty throwing her out, Jess hadn't grabbed her things. She'd simply taken her coat from where it'd hung at the front door and caught a bus back to campus… all the while hiding bloodied hands within her sleeves. Then Jess had made it back to her dorm just in time to cry.

"Look… About the other night, I'm—"

Irritation flared in Misty's eyes. "If you're going to apologize, save it. I don't know who you are, Jess. I get that everyone has their secrets, but what I heard and saw that night… Clearly, your past isn't done with you." She shook her head, adding in a weaker voice, "And I… I don't want to be a part of that."

I'll fix it. I'll make it right.

"I'm just really, really glad Maya wasn't here, you know."

With a shaky breath, she implored, "I'm going to figure it out, Misty. I… I know someone who can help me get out of this and be free from all that once and for all."

"I'm sure you do."

She opened her mouth to say more — what exactly, Jess didn't know — when Misty broke eye contact.

"Just make sure you take care of it before someone else gets hurt."

"Is she feeling any better?" Quinn asked after Jess got back into the car.

Jess glanced towards the second-story window where Misty's drapes were drawn closed. "Not really."

Eight days left

"How did this happen?"

Tim watched as Damian, fully dressed in his Robin gear but without his mask, limped over to the medical bay in the cave. It was clear he was doing his best to stay upright and not keel over from whatever had happened to his abdomen — Tim was about to attempt to help him when Batman's voice came from somewhere behind him.

"He got too reckless."

A swift removal of the cowl revealed a disgruntled Bruce and annoyed blue eyes as Alfred went to fetch med supplies.

"I was not 'reckless.'"

"Did he get tunnel vision again?" Tim asked wryly. He didn't have to glance over to know Damian was glowering at him because he felt it.

"I shouldn't have to tell you that your decision-making in that moment was flawed."

"If I hadn't taken both of them down, the others would have killed the hostages," Damian retorted in a hardened voice that broke while he hoisted himself up on the examination table.

The two of them continued arguing, Tim only half-listening considering it sounded like many other disagreements they'd had like this over the years. Damian was never going to make choices the same way Bruce did, and Bruce was never going to fully accept that. It made Tim wonder if this affected the older Wayne's opinion on his son potentially taking his place when the time came.

Although maybe the former Robin didn't have room to make criticisms when he hadn't donned the suit in a very long time and had also questioned whether he'd be up for continuing Batman's work.

A sudden ringing disrupted the tension, making Damian lift his head and look in the direction of the computer. Alfred had already set to work, bent over the exposed and bloodied skin at the young man's lower body.

"Drake, my phone please."

Just as Tim was about to hand the device to his brother, the former assassin let out a frustrated growl followed by a couple recognizable curse words in Arabic. Alfred barely flinched at the green-eyed glare; he just glanced over at Tim, who understood what he was communicating.

Distancing himself from Damian's next string of expletives (this time in an incoherent mix of both English and Arabic, and that's how Tim knew he was in pretty bad pain), he glanced at the screen and saw that it was Jess calling.

At this time of night?

"Hello?"

"Uhh is this Damian?"

Tim frowned, almost regretting it instantly when his brother's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "No, this is his brother, but may I ask who I'm speaking with?"

"Yeah, this is Eli. I mean, Elijah. Um, I'm calling 'cause Jess is… well, she needs to go home."

Damian sucked in a breath at Alfred dabbing the wound, and Tim stepped further away, turning his back.

"Is she high again?"

"Erm, no. She's had too much to drink."

Great.

With a sigh, he said, "Tell her that Tim will be there."

He hung up and turned to where Damian was looking at him expectantly and Alfred was busy unrolling gauze.

"I'm gonna go pick her up. She's drunk."

"No, I can—"

"Master Damian, sit still," Alfred ordered, pushing down the young man's shoulder as he attempted to move off the table.

Tim rolled his eyes and gestured towards him. "You're obviously not in any position to go anywhere." Heading for the stairs, he added, "Or to carry her, which I'm assuming I'll be doing."

And he was right.

At first, he'd considered just throwing her over his shoulder fireman style, but then an image of her puking flickered in his mind, so Tim just slipped his arms beneath her knees and back. The good thing was that she didn't resist… The bad thing was that she didn't acknowledge his arrival because her eyes were nearly closed and the Elijah kid had needed to literally hand her over to him. Jess didn't say a word as they headed back to the manor, not even when he hauled her up the stairs to the guest room.

But as soon as he threw a blanket over her and went to get a glass of water to leave on the bedside table, she spoke.

Actually, she started crying. Tim spun around at the sudden sobs, narrowing his alarmed gaze at her. For a moment, he had no idea what to do — Damian was probably still in the cave, but it didn't seem right to just walk away. So Tim made his way to the edge of the bed and watched as the teen laid there and mumbled something unintelligible through her messy hair.

"Jess…"

"Ididn'tmeanto…" she whimpered between sobs. "Ididn'tmeanto… do it…"

His chest tightened with anguish as he tentatively reached to move the hair from her face. Jess's cheeks were pink and wet; he wasn't going to tell her, but she definitely looked like a wreck. And now she was feeling guilty about getting so inebriated…

A hiccup preceded another string of words, this time, one that made Tim pause.

"Hewasn'tsupp—Wasn't… supposed to… I didn't—" another hiccup, "mean to k-kill him…"

He saw her bury her face into the pillow, continuing to cry, as his ears rang and heart thumped. Had he heard her correctly?

Didn't mean to kill him.

Hands clammy, Tim contemplated asking who she was talking about when he heard a voice across the room.

"She wasn't wearing it again."

Damian, dressed in a fresh and clean t-shirt, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. His eyes were trained on the crying teen as he said, in a voice as stiff as he looked, "Otherwise I would have known she had begun drinking tonight."

Tim swallowed past the discomfort rising in his throat from somewhere in his chest. His brother must not have heard what Jess had just said, caught up only in the fact that Jess's wrist was void of that blue device.

Getting to his feet, he shook his head and asked, "And then what? You would have told those goons to reschedule your fight because you needed to go pick up your girlfriend?"

Green eyes sparked in the dim light of the hallway from behind him. "Perhaps."

"You can't keep chasing her when she does stuff like this, Damian, especially if you can't explain how or why."

The younger man stepped further into the room, keeping his voice low as he snapped, "It is because she does things like this that she must wear the bracelet—"

"Yeah, I know. No need to reiterate your rules and regulations."

He tore his gaze from Damian's acidic glare, seeing that Jess was now eerily quiet. Judging by her closed eyes and the still-fresh tears beneath them, she'd already passed out despite her unexpected hysterics minutes before.

Tim suddenly felt awful for her.

"Something is going on with her," Damian continued from where he stood, still watching Jess's sleeping figure. To Tim's mild surprise, his eyes were no longer hardened; instead, they were tender and flat with dejection, matching the sudden softness of his tone.

"How so?"

His brother crossed the room to sit at the edge of the bed and brush the hair from her shoulder. The gentleness in Damian's motions and how he looked at her were far from uncharacteristic — even Tim could recognize the manner as one that Damian Wayne reserved for the people and things he loved.

"I haven't seen her in a few days. She says she has been occupied with schoolwork and her friends, that her coach had added an extra practice this week." He looked towards Tim, adding, "She's lying."

'I didn't mean to kill him.'

"She might tell you when she feels comfortable," Tim tried. "Weren't you able to do any of this before?"

Before you decided to pull a Bruce and start monitoring her every move.

Damian exhaled audibly through his nose. "I am protecting her, Timothy."

Eyes gravitating to the sleeping teen, Tim thought back to the conversation he'd overheard in the manor kitchen last week. He was pretty confident that Damian was unaware of it, just as he was unaware of what Jess had apparently done, presumably with her powers. This business with the bracelet seemingly wasn't paying off how he intended.

"And what if the cost is your relationship with her?" he asked all of a sudden.

The rigidity didn't leave Damian's shoulders, though it barely affected the cautious way he wiped at the leftover wetness on Jess's face.

"I can live with knowing she is safe even if she despises my existence. I cannot say the same if any harm comes to her because of me."

Nausea was her only friend that morning, and any memories of last night had ghosted her. She didn't even have the strength to cry, looking in the mirror at her disheveled hair, mascara-rimmed eyes, and lopsided blouse. She looked exactly how she felt.

Still, Jess did her best to fix herself up and appear okay when she ran into Tim in the hallway. Maybe if she'd been a little more sober and the lingering headache wasn't pounding away in her head, she would've read that look in his eye better — it had looked a lot like pity even as he gave her a kind smile and asked how she was feeling.

Damian was laying in his bed when she found him with the bedside lamp turned on at its lowest setting. The curtains were drawn shut, and Neo was sleeping at his feet. Jess leaned against the doorframe and shot Damian a tentative smile that he didn't return. It wasn't enough to worry her. Yet.

"Heard you might need a band-aid."

Damian still didn't crack a smile, his darkened eyes falling to the comforter as he shifted where he was propped up against the pillows. Even though he wasn't really showing it, she could see it in his face that he was indeed in pain.

"Or just some painkillers maybe?" Jess tried again, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. "Tim said you guys were doing a couple reps and you hurt yourself."

"I'll manage," he said flatly.

"Did you pull something? I can—"

"No."

His gaze whipped towards her and then fell to her hand that had been reaching for him, the softest light beginning to grow from it. She pulled back as if he'd literally pushed her away, and the glow was gone almost instantly.

But Jess had connected to Damian just long enough to feel the wound that was hurting. She couldn't exactly tell what it was, but...

"Dami, what happened?" she insisted while fighting the urge to snatch his t-shirt and lift it.

Her widened gaze fell onto his right side, above his pelvis — that was where the injury was. Even though he laid beneath the covers, it was like her power had given her a glimpse of what was wrong with his body, a blurry snapshot of something she couldn't quite make out.

"Why did you do this again?"

The question was almost as harsh as the look in his eyes. Maybe the pain he was experiencing was contributing to this behavior and the way those eyebrows furrowed in such a Damian-esque manner.

"Can you answer my question first?"

Damian clenched his jaw and shook his head in disbelief at her response, and the sight sent annoyance through Jess. "I'll be fine, Jessica. It's nothing I can't handle."

"But I felt—"

"You've been acting strangely this week," he interrupted, "and now you've gone and become pathetically inebriated again."

It had taken everything up until this point to ignore what had happened that night with Jason. Now that she was here and facing Damian, every bit of mental and emotional strength was threatening to slip. She'd made it this far, pretending she hadn't actually killed a man with her own hand… well, she'd made it until last night. Until Misty had been put in harm's way because of her past and all the consequences arising from her mistakes.

All because Damian was someone she didn't want to disappoint. And if he knew what had gone down that night… if he knew why she'd been lying about not feeling well lately to avoid seeing him (or anyone for that matter), why she'd made the last minute decision to go to a party, why she'd taken all those shots and mixed all those drinks, almost literally drowning herself in alcoholic numbness—

If only you knew what I was capable of.

He would see her differently, wouldn't he? Misty already did.

"What is it that you're not telling me?"

That I can kill.

"What am I not telling you?" she repeated, gesturing towards him. "What about you? You're completely ignoring what I said."

She was met with a frustrated sigh as Damian crossed his arms and stared at her.

"I'm not concerned about myself; I'm concerned about you. You know by now what your limit is, but you exceeded it for a reason that's beyond me. I'm surprised you didn't puke last night."

Jess turned away and crossed her arms, no longer feeling like she could face him, not when this conversation was going in this direction. "You didn't have to pick me up."

"Proving my point yet again — Tim picked you up, not me."

Wait… what?

At that, Jess met his eyes and saw the irritation in them. She hated that she couldn't remember that.

Damian must have read the puzzlement on her face because he then said,

"I wasn't in the mood to deal with your… behavior."

Ouch.

Glancing away, she felt her frustration eat up the hurt as if it was fuel. "Should've just left me there then. I would've gotten home somehow."

Damian scoffed, his acidic, green eyes flashing. "Like walking Gotham's streets alone, vulnerable to ill-intentioned thugs until a masked vigilante comes to your rescue?"

Her mouth fell open as Jess sat there, appalled. This fresh, new wave of hurt stung even more; he'd rubbed more salt into the wound as if she deserved it…

Did she?

"Let me know when you decide to stop being an ass or when I'm no longer such a burden to you," Jess quipped stonily as she crossed the room to the door. "Whichever comes first."

It took much of her strength not to slam it on her way out, but it took considerably more to withhold the tears while asking Tim to take her back to the dorms. Humiliation, warm in her face and weighty in her chest, threatened to break what little resolve was holding the teen together during the entire ride. Part of Jess wondered what the man was thinking, if he might sympathize with her or see this behavior as an indication that she'd become this train wreck like Damian did…

"It's not my place," Tim spoke for the first time as he parked in front of the dorm building, "but I know that he really cares about you. A lot."

Jess only mustered half a smile. "Thanks for the ride," was all she said before exiting the car, feeling his gaze on her back.

And for what could've been the hundredth time in several days, she held onto the seams pulling her together until she made it into her room, bursting into tears once she was alone.

According to Damian, Tim was at his new apartment to continue unpacking and rearranging the new furniture he'd had delivered recently. It was the easiest lie to feed his brother because it was somewhat true — he did have several boxes that still contained the new kitchenware Alfred had helped pick out.

Except Tim was lurking in the shadows instead, having tracked Jess and Jason to what must have been one of his safehouses. Bypassing the security took less than a minute, and now he was moving cautiously through. The safehouse wasn't exactly small; it was two floors and, judging by a quick, analytical scan of his surroundings, had enough room for a weapons cache, a computer setup, and a medical bay. Upstairs, where he found the two of them, was home to a makeshift gym complete with weights, a bench press, a punching bag, and even a treadmill. And… was that a mini bar in the corner?

"Don't throw yourself into the bag," Jason was saying. "Keep both of your feet planted."

He was standing with his arms crossed, watching intently as Jess struck out at the bag with her gloved fist. She had shed her winter coat and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, wearing a t-shirt that looked like it might have once been Damian's.

"Again."

Tim noted to himself that her form wasn't too bad as she landed two punches, making the bag sway only a few inches, but he wasn't entirely willing to sit there and watch… well, whatever this was. Why were they here? Why were they even together at a time like this in a place like this? What was his brother up to?

Jason's encouragement turned into words that Tim knew were meant to do more than just make her focus.

"I know you've got all that frustration in your chest, Jess. I know you're pissed, that you think you're out of control."

Two more quick and hard jabs with both hands as the teen trained her gaze on the heavy bag. Even from where he stood in the staircase's dark corner, Tim saw the anger creasing her brows.

"Show me how you feel," Jason continued, moving to hold the bag in place. "Come on. Let that anger flow through your arms and show this bag how you fucking feel—"

Whatever he'd taught her so far about form and balance went out the window with each infuriated punch that followed. And then moments later, she was simply taking everything out on the hard object, swinging with emotion instead of controlled power, attacking with speed in place of patience. A sudden sob interrupted Jess's desperate motions as she landed one more weakened hit before falling to her knees. Jason released the punching bag and moved to gently touch her trembling shoulder. Tim was too far to hear exactly what the man was saying, but he could read on his lips that he thought she should take a break while he went out for a quick smoke. Still on her hands and knees, Jess nodded before pulling off the gloves and using her shirt to wipe the tears.

That was when Tim figured he should move before getting caught. The staircase was the darkest part of the safehouse considering the rest of the place was decently illuminated by the industrial lighting above, but that didn't mean he couldn't slip out anyway.

He shivered beneath his lightweight puffer coat as he made the decision to approach Jason where he hung out at the back of the building. Maybe Tim could have continued digging for answers on his own, but his hunger for them was too great to walk away without saying anything.

"Why am I not surprised you got in so easily?" Jason suddenly spoke up after lighting his cigarette. He turned around and landed a sharp gaze upon Tim.

"Your system is outdated."

The confusion on his face was almost comical. "How? I just installed it a month ago—"

"What the hell are you doing with Jess?" Tim asked.

His brother seemed unfazed by the interruption or the question.

"Consider it… emotional management therapy."

"Through a punching bag."

"What, you're going to tell me you've never felt better after throwing shit or beating the hell out of something?" Jason raised his brows and blew out a circle of smoke, then added facetiously, "Or someone."

At the unamused expression on Tim's face, he said, "It's none of your business—"

"No, Jason, you're not about to pull that on me," Tim hissed, closing the distance between them. "It's one thing that you're having secret kitchen conversations with our brother's girlfriend, but it's entirely different when I hear Jess drunkenly sob about killing someone — and then I catch her here with you."

Jason's brows wrinkled. "Secret…? You heard us in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, I did. And then I had to pick her up while she was wasted and hear secondhand that she didn't 'mean to kill him'?"

Overhearing Jess talk about nightmares and ask Jason if things would get easier had been confounding, to say the least. Without any context, Tim wasn't entirely sure he could figure out what they'd been discussing, and he wasn't one to make assumptions unless he had enough information to back it up.

And seeing her cry about accidentally killing someone the other night had been another large piece to the puzzle albeit a very alarming one.

"All the more reason for me to help her. What happened was an accident."

"So what? You're training her then?" Tim asked. "Jess isn't one of Luthor's next-gen lackeys."

Did he really think he could just "train" the teen like he had in the past for Luthor's handpicked teenage supervillains? She was just a regular teenager who happened to be a meta-human and was attempting to live a normal life.

Tim tried to explain this, garnering a characteristic glare from his older brother.

Jason snapped sarcastically, "Sorry, I didn't know she confided in you and that you also know what's going on in her head."

"She needs to see someone like Raven or even Firestorm. Besides, that doesn't explain anything about how she killed someone and who—"

"For once, Replacement, this is a mystery that will have to remain unsolved for you. Jess came to me for help. That's all you need to know."

Seriously. He was still going to call him that after all these years?

"Bruce and Damian should—"

"I'll bust your damn kneecaps if you think about walking away and talking to them."

When Tim didn't immediately answer, Jason added, "And you know I'm not just exaggerating."

Barely two seconds barely passed when the recognizable click of a bo staff interrupted the chilled, tense air. The swift movements the two men made towards each other were nearly in sync, a mutual agreement to support their arguments via physical combat.

Jason arched backwards as the staff swung at his head, transitioning into a backflip and reaching for the dagger at his waist.

"You do realize what you'd be unleashing if you told our little bro any of this, right?"

"Would it be any different or worse—" Tim blocked several of his blows slicing the air, "—than if you kept it from him and he found out later on?"

The shuriken Jason had aimed for him bounced off the staff spinning rapidly in his hand like a makeshift shield. Tim wasted no time executing a series of offensive motions, trying to force the older man further into the corner that was yards behind him.

But Jason could read his tactics just as well as he could. Somehow, he caught Tim's flying foot at an angle — Tim saw the cold, cracked ground in a split second and threw his hands out just in time, saving himself from a broken nose and chin.

With a graceful forward curve of his body, he tumbled across the gravel and away from his opponent.

"He already hates my guts. That makes me someone with nothing to lose."

Standing and facing Jason, he answered breathlessly, "Nothing except your fingers and toes."

"I've already kicked the bucket once, Timmy," his brother said with a chuckle.

"Just tell him… Or I will."

To emphasize his point, Tim made for his staff that had been knocked out of his hand, all the while dodging Jason's well-aimed dagger swipes. That was when he realized they'd switched positions and the building wall was behind him now, giving Jason the advantage to—

He ducked at the very last second and spun in place to pin Jason against said wall, the staff placed strategically (and painfully) across his throat. Jason clutched the metal, attempting to push it away though Tim didn't let up in leaning his weight against the taller, bigger man.

"Don't... get involved," Jason threatened despite the pressure against his larynx.

And it was at that moment, with Tim holding his brother's acidic gaze, that the irritation in Jason's eyes became ignited as he read something in the younger man's silence.

"Alright?" he tried again.

The momentary hesitation was a mistake. It offered a lapse in his strength just long enough for Jason to deliver a knee to his abdomen. Within a second, it was Tim's shoulder blades digging into the wall with his own staff about to crush his throat.

"Tim... what did you do?" Jason demanded, frustration inflaming his eyes and knitting his brows together.

The weapon clanged to the ground as his hands wrapped up in the front of Tim's jacket.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

The aggressive move didn't even make Tim blink while he simply met the blue-green eyes bright with dismay.

"Nothing. I didn't do anything."

Five more days

The muffled sound of his assistant's voice was what initially alerted him that something was wrong.

Damian and Tim looked in unison towards the office door as it burst open, revealing Jess with Stella right behind her, a perturbed expression on her reddened face.

"—can't go in there!" the woman was protesting.

The steely, hot look in Jess's eyes sent Damian's heart rate skyrocketing as he stood from his desk chair. "Jessica…"

"I told her you were busy," Stella began, gesturing towards Tim, whose concerned gaze was bouncing between the three of them.

"It's alright, Stella. Close the door, please," Damian answered as calmly as he could, not even bothering to look at her.

His assistant had barely shut the door the moment Jess stepped towards him, obviously uncaring that they had an audience. She was still dressed in her school uniform beneath her coat, backpack across her shoulders. Damian couldn't immediately tell if the flush in her cheeks was from the weather or a physical sign of her distress.

"How could you?"

Her voice was more frigid than the frost lining the glass wall of his office space.

"What are—?"

She tossed something at him, and he caught it smoothly with one hand. It was a thumb drive.

A ringing started quickly in his ears, followed by a disruption in his breathing. Damian scrambled to gather his thoughts as he looked up to meet her impatient gaze that was now filling with tears. He could only assume one thing… and it was that she knew.

She knew. How did she know?

Jess made a few more steps past Tim, who was still standing on the other side of the large desk. "You've been tracking everything, Damian. Everything! My heart rate, m-my blood pressure, my location—"

She had to stop and catch her breath while reaching to wipe hastily beneath her eyes.

"At first, I didn't even believe it—"

His mouth acted more quickly than his brain.

"Who gave this to you?" Damian asked, holding up the thumb drive. "Where did you find it?"

A disbelieving laugh left her mouth as she threw her hands up. "You're kidding me, right?" Jess closed the distance between them, fresh exasperation across her face. "That doesn't matter. Tell me why you would trick me into believing your gift was—"

"I did not intend to 'trick' you."

"Then what?" she challenged, though he didn't blink. "Why would you do something like this?"

Damian held his ground and attempted to control his tone. "I wanted... I want to keep you safe and out of trouble." Ignoring the scornful look she gave him, he continued, "You've gotten yourself tangled up in too many troublesome situations, such as last weekend, so you need looking after—"

"You're not my dad! But even my dad wouldn't do this. I mean, who does this kind of shit? It's—It's invasive and borderline insane—"

Indignation, hot and biting, seared through him.

"I wouldn't have to do this if you were more responsible."

"You don't 'have to' at all," she countered aggressively. "What was this supposed to accomplish? What was the purpose of knowing my heart rate and—and blood pressure? How did you even—?"

"Robin."

She blinked, vexed at his unthinking response. In the corner of his eye, Tim was shifting uncomfortably in place… It was too late now to backtrack, Damian knew.

Jess appeared to regain her bearings, giving him a once-over. "I see," was all she said as if the one name explained everything to her.

Damian tried, "I cannot let anything happen to you, Jessica. If I lose you, I—"

"And you didn't think doing something like this would make you lose me anyway?"

Deafening silence filled the room, fighting with the strain that was almost palpable in the air. Damian was still aware of his brother watching several feet away, but all he could focus on was the way Jess was looking at him.

His limbs ached to move as she pushed her palm against his chest, the bracelet caught between, yet he remained frozen, staring into her embittered, tearful eyes.

"I don't care if this was Robin's idea or even if it has something to do with Irene… but don't make me pay for your own mistakes."

With that, she pulled her hand back to walk backwards, and he barely caught the device before it fell to the floor. Damian wanted to say more, anything to erase the clear pain and anger that was driving her away. The abruptness with which she dodged his outstretched hand sent a pang cracking right through his entire body.

She didn't bother closing the door after storming out. Stella reappeared with a perplexed gaze to shut it once more, leaving Damian and Tim to themselves and a new wave of heavy silence.

"Damian…"

It felt as if his insides were on fire while he grabbed for his coat and quickly exited the office. With the skill of a young man who'd had years to practice and perfect it, Damian informed Stella coolly that he was taking the rest of the day off and nodded politely at employees that he passed on the way to the garage. And then it was while driving home that he stepped on the gas pedal, exceeding speed limits and catching up to green lights, running yellow ones so he could get to the cave.

The dummies were never meant for lethal practice. His father had always expected that their family treated the inanimate objects as real people, real criminals that should only be apprehended, disarmed, incapacitated... and never killed. The former assassin could only adhere to that intention for so long before the desperation finally defeated him, cutting and maiming the mannequin over and over until he could no longer see it through the tears.

And with the one last bit of strength he had left, Damian drove the last swing straight into where its heart would be — as if it would relieve the pain in his own.

Four more days

"Is that your final answer?"

Gotham's piers were swathed in cold darkness, the city lights dotting the skyline stretched far in front of them. No one knew she was here with him, not Jason, not Damian — exactly the way she wanted it. Only her own tenacity and determination had brought her here without the help of another voice or opinion.

She'd grown weary of others speaking up — or staying silent — when she shouldn't have needed it.

"I have one condition."

The corner of Phoenix's mouth rose as he glanced at her. "You won't kill anyone… not intentionally at least."

Jess looked speechlessly at him, though a part of her knew there was no room to be surprised. Shaking off the unease brewing in her stomach, she then said, "No one I care about gets hurt anymore."

"Well, that's the beauty of your power, isn't it? You can heal them anyway. That's why they call you 'the girl with the magic hands.'"

Following her silent stare, Phoenix simply nodded. "As long as you do what I ask, no harm will come to them. I plan on the city's protectors intervening at some point, and sources tell me you've come to form a bond with—"

"Your sources are wrong."

"—with Red Hood."

She'd spoken too soon.

Jess took a deep breath, watching her exhalation drift in a cloud. "Not him. He counts."

"I can see where you misunderstood me since you've also come to know Robin."

It was hard to hold back the scoff. "I don't know anything about Robin."

Except that I wish we'd never met.

She felt Phoenix gazing at her again, maybe in awe, though Jess kept her own eyes trained ahead.

"Then I guess I won't have to worry about him if he doesn't count as someone you care for."

Fury, warm and inviting, churned deep within her bones like the waves of the dark water splashing around them.

"He doesn't."

Note: so truthfully, i've already planned how this story is going to end :') I have most of everything drafted out up until the last chapter, whatever it might be. I'm guessing we'll have maybe 10 more? Not quite sure, but so far, this arc with Talia and Jason is the last one and the thought just makes me SAD

Lots of crazy things in this update! I probably could've saved some of it for the next one but i'm trying to get us to the long-awaited *moment* of Jess discovering Damian's secret lol. Speaking of that, it's happening very, very soon. we're also gonna explore a little bit more of what's going on in Bruce's head and Jason's as well as his history with Talia 'cause we can probably use some exposition when it comes to what the two of them are doing.

But i do also plan on having some other characters outside of the Bat family show up! So yes, KirikaAndo, i want to give Jon and others a bit of the spotlight :) that should happen in the next couple chapters.

evabrennan: honestly Jess probably could've relapsed after her accidental murder but, ah, unfortunately, there are a lot more things coming up that might just push her to that edge… even after everything that already happened in this update lol!

Glad you guys enjoyed the civilian AU one-shot as well. It was Jess and Damian's first meeting in that pottery class that was in my dream haha. Maybe i'll write more if the inspiration hits me, but i also want to invest most of my energy into the next few chapters for this fic :)

Thank you all for the love!

xx