To Lyger 0: I do enjoy the dynamic between these two.
"Hey! Fancy Nar-walking into you here!"
Nabatala arched an eyebrow dubiously and placed her hand on her hip, pausing just outside the entrance to the children's hospital, leaning against the cart she had been pushing. "How long have you been sitting on that one, Owl?"
He shrugged, stifling a laugh. "Not too long."
Her mouth twitched below her mask. "You might've wanted to sit on it a little longer!" she teased.
"Ha, ha," he retorted sarcastically. "Horn't you being a little harsh?"
"Puns? Really?" She rubbed her forehead. "What is bringing this on, anyways?" she asked. "Trying to get in the mood before running the gauntlet again?"
The Owl shuddered. "After last time we were here…" His voice trailed off, and she nodded in understanding. They had visited the children's hospital together only once before, shortly after M. Damocles' retirement – it had actually been one of the new Owl's first appearances as a superhero. This hospital had been a favorite of M. Damocles, somewhere he had visited on a monthly basis, and he had known all the kids here. So in the boys' wing, the new Owl had been grilled mercilessly on why he wasn't the original Owl. Unfortunately, he had flubbed the answer the first couple times the question had come up, and it hadn't been until Nabatala herself appeared on the ward and told them to back off that the kids had finally started to be more welcoming to the Owl.
And yet, for all of that, here they were again, back at the same children's hospital, getting ready to go around and visit with many of the same kids – most of them still here with the same illnesses. It was encouraging that they had been invited back, of course. But it was also a little disheartening that so many of the same kids were so sick. Many of them had long-term illnesses that would keep them here for months at a time; a couple would almost certainly never leave this hospital – not unless some sort of miracle cured them.
Nabatala firmly believed in the possibility of miracles – how could she do otherwise, when she regularly watched Ladybug in action? And yet, how many of these children would experience miraculous healing? Would any of them be healed in that way? That she was far less certain of. Ladybug, Hato Gozen, Olivet… all of them could perform miraculous healings… but Ladybug insisted that they couldn't do it for everyone.
Letting out a breath, Nabatala glanced back at the cart of boxes that she had picked up from the Mansion on her way over here. A half-dozen boxes in various sizes, all labeled with their contents – action figures of the Heroes of Paris, notebooks with Nabatala on the front, plastic replicas of the Owl's Owlets or Ladybug's yo-yo or even her own harpoon… If she guessed correctly, they would almost have enough for all the kids in the hospital. Rolling her shoulders, Nabatala pushed the cart up to the sliding door.
"Let me help you with that," the Owl offered quickly. "It looks kind of heavy."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Between the two of us, which one has actual superstrength?" she pointed out wryly.
"Well, you do," he admitted. "But… how's your back?"
"My… back?" She blinked.
"After our last training session?" he prompted, waving his hand meaningfully.
"Oh!" She nodded in understanding. "Actually, my back is fine," she assured him. "I was a little sore the day after – I think my dad might have been worried about me since he didn't want me carrying or lifting anything especially heavy all day. Not that it really mattered all that much; the most exciting thing I had to carry was a really thick file! But by the end of that day, I didn't even feel it anymore."
His shoulders sagged slightly in relief. "That's good. I'd hate to think…"
She raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. "Wait, were you actually worried about me after what happened?"
"I mean, I wouldn't exactly want to hurt you," he protested.
Sighing, Nabatala pushed the cart through the door. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I am capable of looking out for myself," she pointed out. Her lips turned down in a frown, and she looked away from the Owl, focusing on the small reception staff in the hospital lobby. Yes, she was capable of protecting herself and keeping herself safe now. Yes, her miraculous prevented her from really getting hurt, especially if she was training against the Owl – although that fall last week had hurt. She didn't really have to be afraid of the random racists that still seemed to populate parts of Paris… many of whom had changed over the months since Nabatala herself had first appeared as a hero. But that hadn't always been the case. She had been harassed. People had called her names; she could still remember the last time it had happened at Collège François Dupont, even though Thierry had apologized for it the next day. But that had been nothing compared to what her classmates had said to her at her old collège – it had been located on the edge of her arrondissement, so it had accepted students from several neighborhoods. Many had been from immigrant families like her; many more had been "local" and resented the "immigrant" students. And of course, they had taken that resentment out on Leïla and those like her – but Leïla had been the most obvious target because of her hijab.
What she wouldn't have given to be able to protect herself back then the way that she could now.
The Owl let out a breath, following her into the hospital. "I know," he assured her. "I know you can take care of yourself. But nothing says you should have to look out for yourself. Not when other people are around who can help."
Glancing back at him, she smiled under her hijab-mask. "Thanks. And I do appreciate your concern."
"Nabatala and the Owl!" The large, rotund hospital administrator crossed the lobby toward them with his arms outstretched in greeting, a benign smile on his face. "Welcome back to Miséricorde Children's Hospital. The boys and girls are very much looking forward to your visit – another bit of excitement to go along with the recent news."
Nabatala cocked her head to one side. "What do you mean?"
"What recent news?" asked the Owl at the same time. "What happened?"
M. Delaunay's eyes widened. "Did you not hear? The hospital just received an enormous endowment from Paris First to add an entirely new wing, as well as a new Department for Radical Medicine. The hospital's going to have much better facilities, particularly to treat high-morbidity illnesses."
Nabatala started. "That's great!" she replied.
"They have even found a new doctor who will start next week – he has had significant success in treating the worst forms of cancer." M. Delaunay beamed. "With any luck, more of our patients may be able to return home soon – either cured or at least stable."
The Owl hummed thoughtfully. "That is very good news," he told M. Delaunay. "I hope it will work out well for them."
"Sir?" an aide rushed up to him and held out a clipboard. "We need your signature on this contract. And you have a consultation with the architect in ten minutes."
"Ah, yes, well…" M. Delaunay shook his head ruefully. "If you would excuse me, I must return to my work," he told Nabatala and the Owl. "The work of administration is never dull!"
As he walked away, the Owl muttered under his breath, "I'll take your word for it."
Nabatala stifled a giggle. "Not your thing?" she asked him, pushing their cart down the main hallway, following after a short, kindly nurse.
He shook his head. "I prefer to actually do. None of this 'sitting in my office and telling other people what to do crap." He froze, cocked his head to one side, and shook his head. "N–not you, sir," he whispered, quietly enough that Nabatala pretended not to hear.
She smiled in amusement, though her nostrils wrinkled at the sterile, antiseptic smell of the hospital as they walked. This might be the one thing that stopped her from ever considering working at a hospital. She had dreamed of becoming a doctor since she was a little girl, ever since the first time she had heard her father talk about saving a boy's life by identifying the specific flesh-eating bacteria that had been attacking his leg. The boy had lost most of the muscle mass in that leg, but thanks to her father, he had kept his leg and been able to walk on his own only a few weeks later. She had always wanted to be able to do that, to see someone who was sick or injured and be able to cure them. But there was something about the hospital environment – the walls were too white, the halls were too featureless, the rooms were too sterile and generic. How could people really recover in this environment?
Of course, all of that changed the moment the nurse opened the door to the first girls' ward of the hospital. The walls had been painted a light yellow, streaked with pink, blue, and green. A mural had been added to the far wall beside the opposite door, composed of handprints from everyone who had stayed in that particular ward. The beds, each one sectioned off from those around it with removable curtains, were closer in design to Leïla's bed at home than to a traditional hospital bed – though two of the girls had been placed in hospital beds. Most of the beds had reminders of home beside them: stuffed animals, books, pictures of family, even a couple of flowers in vases. Almost as one, all the girls in the room turned to face them, their eyes widening in excitement as they spotted Nabatala and the Owl. Nabatala gave a cheerful wave, allowing the homier atmosphere to raise her spirits.
"Owl! You're my favorite!" the girl shouted from the bed closest to the door.
The Owl laughed quietly and grabbed a couple things off of their cart. "Really? But what about Nabatala?"
"She's cool," the girl replied, beaming at him. "But you don't have superpowers."
"Maybe not superpowers like Nabatala," he acknowledged. "But having a team is a superpower of its own. And that's what you have, you know."
"Nabatala!" called one of the girls, waving eagerly. "You came back!"
Nabatala grinned. "Of course, I came back, Odette!" she assured the girl, rummaging around in one of the crates and pulling out a small package. Thinking for a moment, she opened another box and pulled out another gift. "I wasn't about to forget about you!"
"I still have the hijab you gave me!" Odette announced, pointed to the kerchief she was wearing.
Sighing, Nabatala jogged over to Odette's bed and sat down on the edge of the frame next to her. "I see that," she told the girl, examining it carefully. "But it does look a little worn – well-loved," she mused. "Would you like another one?"
Odette's eyes widened. "Really? That would be so cool!"
"Lean forward," Nabatala instructed her, reaching back to carefully untie Odette's old kerchief before replacing it with a new one, tying it securely in place over the long scar that circled the back of Odette's head from ear to ear. "I see that your surgery went well," she observed, examining the scar carefully. "It looks like the scar has healed up."
"It was fine." Odette shrugged. "I didn't really feel right afterward, though – I don't know what it was that they did, but it felt like I was floating for two days."
"That's not unusual," Nabatala assured her, patting her arm. "That could just have been the aftereffects of the anesthesia – it can leave you confused for a while, until it's out of your system."
Odette nodded. "That's what Doctor Emma said. But I wasn't sure if I believed her."
"You know, you really should believe your doctor," Nabatala told her, raising an eyebrow. "They only have your best interests at heart." Finishing tying the kerchief in place, Nabatala released the girl to sit back in her bed and hummed. "And there you go: perfect!"
Odette threw her arms around Nabatala in a big hug. Thank you!" she told her excitedly. "I'll wear it all the time!"
Nabatala smiled. "I'm glad," she replied, placing a stuffed animal that looked vaguely like Kheaa on the nightstand next to Odette. "Are they going to have any more surgery?"
Odette shrugged. "They haven't told me. But they were talking to my parents last week and I heard them say that they thought they might have missed some." Her eyes widened nervously. "What if they do cut me open again?"
Nabatala nodded in understanding and placed a reassuring hand on Odette's shoulder. "That's nothing to be too worried about," she assured her. "Sometimes they can use other treatments to get it – actually, when it's the brain, you almost want them to be cautious; otherwise, they might hit something you don't want them to hit! The doctor knows what's best for you – they'll make you better."
"I hope so."
Nabatala let out a breath. "Just remember: I may be the one with superpowers, but you're a superhero, too. And your superpower is that you're going to keep getting better. Okay?"