Shayera flailed her arms and legs every which way, jumping out of her nightmare. Her chest was hurting; her back was hurting; her breaths were coming out in short gasps; her borrowed clothes clung to her sweaty body. This would be her fourth night in a row of no sleep.
Shayera shakily lifted herself on her elbows. She needed water. Shayera blindly reached for the pitcher she knew was on the nightstand by the bed. Her hand met air. Shayera scooted closer to the edge. The nightstand should be right there. Shayera angrily scooted… right off of the bed. "Ow!" she exclaimed in pain as her body hit the hardwood floor. A second later, Bruce burst through their conjoined door with her name already out of his mouth. "Shayera!" he called out as he hit the light switch. The transformation from dark to light caused bright flashes of light. Shayera had to blink a few times before they disappeared.
"Shayera?" Shayera looked up to see Bruce staring down at her in concern. "What happened?" he asked as he picked her up and placed her on the bed.
"A nightmare," Shayera answered, wishing she could hide in the safety of her wings. "I fell out of bed." She felt Bruce place a hand on her forehead.
"You're burning up," he said.
"And sweaty," Shayera mumbled. Bruce immediately inspected her back.
"It's not just sweat," he said. Shayera frowned. She had torn her stitches again. "I'll be back," Bruce said, hurrying away.
Shayera sat silently in the billionaire's room. This was becoming embarrassing. She wasn't a damsel in distress. She didn't need rescuing. Her shoulders dropped as she sighed heavily. Why hadn't she stayed in her cave? Sure, it wasn't as impressive as Wayne Manor- but it was dark, damp, and what she deserved. Shayera looked at the opulence around her. She didn't deserve to recover in such luxury. She didn't deserve the care Bruce was providing her. She didn't deserve- "I'm going to have to redo your stitches." Shayera looked up to see Bruce half-way to her. He was carrying towels, clothes, a first aid kit.
"I figured," she said as she slowly began to disrobe. Shayera could feel and hear the bones in her back crunching as she undressed. She then slowly unraveled the bandages around her upper torso. Every move caused blazing, white-hot pain, and she nearly passed. But then, Bruce placed a hand on her bare back, and the fire ceased. The pain was still there, but the fiery inferno was gone. It felt great. She almost moaned. Almost.
"You have another fever," Bruce stated as he gently draped her damp, red hair over her shoulders, covering her bare breasts.
"Well, I do have two giant open wounds on my back," Shayera stated bitterly as she heard tiny snipping sounds, "who knows what kind of bacteria and viruses my body is fighting." Her shoulders tensed but then relaxed when a cool cloth was placed against her back.
"The stitches are supposed to be keeping the wounds closed, but they keep tearing."
"Maybe it's from all of the thrashing I do in my sleep," Shayera said. Bruce didn't reply. He continued working on her back.
After almost half-an-hour, he finally spoke. "I'm going to restitch this area and bandage it differently. I won't wrap it around your upper torso this time. I can numb you if you want."
"I'm fine," Shayera answered.
"Shayera…"
"I'm fine," she reiterated through clenched teeth. Bruce 'hmphed' in reply and began the long, gruesome process of stitching her back.
Shayera could tell he was trying to be gentle, but she really should have accepted the numbing agent. Each pass had her grasping at the bedding, tearing through Bruce's silk sheets with her hands.
"I'm numbing you," Bruce stated after five minutes.
"Bruce," Shayera gasped, "I can take it."
"I wasn't asking for your permission; I just wanted to give you heads-up about the giant needle I'm about to stick into your back."
"Wait- ow!" A sharp pain shot up and down her spine. For a split second, Shayera thought she was going to lose consciousness. But then…relief. The pain, burning, fire – it was all gone. Shayera felt her entire body relax.
"Accepting relief from pain is not a sign of weakness," Bruce said as he resumed his work. At least, Shayera assumed he was working again. She couldn't feel a thing back there, it was magnificent.
"Pain is weakness; weakness leads to apathy; apathy gets everyone killed," Shayera replied almost robotically.
"That is an interesting…sentiment? Who told you that?"
"It's something we learn on Thanagar when we begin training."
"Was that supposed to inspire you?"
"No, it was a warning."
"Huh," was all he said.
"What do you mean by 'huh'?"
"You never talked about Thanagar."
"What?"
"When you were on the team, you spoke of Thanagar maybe four times."
"What's your point?" Shayera asked defensively.
"There is no point; just an observation." Shayera almost told him to keep his observations to himself. Almost. "What was this one about?" Bruce asked in a shockingly soft voice.
"What?" Shayera turned her head slightly towards him.
"This is your fourth night in a row having a nightmare. It must have been a pretty bad one if you fell out of bed." Shayera frowned. She honestly couldn't remember it.
"I don't remember it," she replied. "I remember darkness and pain, the feeling of drowning. That's it." She shifted uncomfortably. "How's it looking back there?" she asked.
"I think my needlework would make Alfred proud." Shayera replied with a soft chuckle. "Shayera." Shayera nearly jumped as Bruce had said her name right by her ear. She turned to her left to see his face less than a foot away from hers. Wow, his eyes were very blue. "You're going to get through this," he said kindly.
"H-H-How do you know?" Shayera stuttered, willing herself to not look at his lips.
"Because you're strong," he answered like it was a no-brainer. "If anyone can survive this and thrive, it's you."
"I-I think your faith in me is severely misplaced," Shayera whispered.
"We'll see," Bruce said with a raised brow before returning to the spot behind her. As for Shayera, her heart was thumping wildly in her chest; her cheeks were very warm; and the shortness of breath had nothing to do with a nightmare this time around.
Bruce continued working slowly. Earlier, Shayera had asked, "How's it looking back there?" To which Bruce had replied, "I think my needlework would make Alfred proud." He didn't want to tell Shayera that wounds on her back looked no better than they did a month ago. He wasn't sure why her back wasn't healing. Stitching, gluing, stapling – nothing seemed to be working. Every time the the skin of her back fused together, something would cause it tear open again. The area surrounding the open injuries was red, swollen, and warm to the touch. Bruce didn't know how Shayera wasn't in pain 24/7. Clearly, she was trying to suck it up; but she needed to stop.
"Shayera," he sighed, "I know you can take a beating. But right now, your body needs you to help it heal." She didn't respond, so he continued speaking. "Your back isn't healing well. I think, no, I know you aren't being honest about how much pain you're really in." Bruce watched as the shoulders of his ex-teammate slumped. "Your entire body has gone through a severe trauma. It's in distress," he continued as he placed gauze over his handiwork. "You need to rest. You can't heal if you're constantly fighting through pain," he finally finished treating her back. "You need to help your body." Shayera remained silent. "I'm finished," he said, handing her a clean, button-down shirt.
"Thank you," Shayera whispered as she took the shirt from him. Shayera slowly pulled her arms through the long sleeves of the silk top while Bruce gathered the used supplies and bloody towels.
"I don't know how to turn it off," Shayera spoked. Bruce paused in his cleanup, looking at her. "I've ignored all types of pain for so long, I don't know how to stop," she admitted. Bruce briefly glanced down at her plump lower lip. The urge to kiss her hit him like a tidal wave, and he had to put some distance between them.
"Well," he cleared his throat. "Just…complain as soon as you feel pain." Shayera frowned at him. "I'm serious," Bruce chuckled, as he placed the soiled items into a nearby trash.
"I don't want to be a bother."
"You won't be," Bruce dissuaded her of that notion immediately. "And if you were, trust me when I say, I would have no problem calling you out." Shayera nodded slowly. "We're here to help. I'm here to help. If I didn't have the resources at my disposal, I wouldn't have housed you here. If I thought Alfred, Jason, Tim, and I couldn't handle it, you'd be in the infirmary at the Watchtower. You're not going to recover from this alone, so let me – us, help you." Shayera nodded slowly, biting her lip as she did so. "Now," Bruce glanced at her lips again for just a second, "you and I are going to have to switch rooms again."
"Why?" Shayera wondered. "This room is fine."
"You bled all over my nice sheets," Bruce motioned to the wet spot behind her. "They need to be changed."
"And…?"
"Unless you don't mind sitting in that chair while I change the sheets of this massive bed?"
"Oh," Shayera's green eyes lit up in excitement. "You doing house chores is something I definitely want to see."
"You don't think I know how to change the sheets on my own bed?" Bruce gave her a mock-glare.
"I don't think you know how to change the sheets on any bed," Shayera smirked.
"Well," Bruce said as he cracked his knuckles, "I guess I'm going to have to prove you wrong."
Forty-five minutes later, Bruce finally finished the task of putting sheets on the bed. Of course, he was messing around. (In reality, it would have taken him 15 minutes. What was the difference between a comforter and a down&down comforter? And why did his bed set have about 8 different sheets and blankets? Alfred deserved a raise.) He usually turned off his vapid, billionaire playboy persona at home, but the act was making Shayera laugh. He had never heard a real laugh from the Thanagarian. Turns out, all of her laughter pre-invasion had been fake. Bruce was bearing witness to the real Shayera. If feigning ignorance was what it took to bring out the real Shayera, Bruce was more than willing.
"Well," Shayera smiled once she was comfortably settled in his bed, "that was an adventure."
"It was, wasn't it?" Bruce smirked.
"There is a phrase on Earth – 'it's not rocket science'. You made it look easier than rocket science."
"I grabbed the closest bedding set," Bruce smiled, "I didn't know it came with that many covers."
"The packaging was huge. Did you think it was one giant comforter?" Shayera asked brightly as she settled back on the soft pillows.
"I thought it came with extra pillows," Bruce sighed. "But…I think Alfred needs a raise." The two shared a quiet laugh before staring at each other in silence. Shayera was the first to break eye contact.
"Well," she cleared her throat, "thank you for all of this. And thank you for the amusement you provided just now."
"Anytime," Bruce gave her lopsided smile. "Do you need anything else? More water?"
"You brought me 10 bottles of water," Shayera gestured to the nightstand, "I think I will survive the rest of the night." Bruce gave her a nod. "Thank you," she reiterated, "for everything."
"You don't have to continue thanking me, Shayera."
"No, I think I do. I don't deserve any…" her voice trailed off as she looked down at her hands. Inhaling deeply, she looked back at Bruce, mask in place. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Goodnight, Shayera," Bruce said as he left the room.
"Goodnight, Bruce," Shayera replied before burrowing beneath the covers.
It was true what Shayera said before. She didn't deserve Bruce's kindness or generosity. "You're weak. Pathetic," she heard her parents' voices in her head. It was true. Tears welled in her eyes. She genuinely felt weak and pathetic. Gods, she should have stayed in her cave.
