This was going to be longer, with a shift to Amy's POV, but I felt that it would negate the impact of the feelings I was trying to create here, so I'm saving it for next chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter Sixteen

Veritas

The events of the previous night went unspoken that next morning. When it finally came down to it, Bruce was kind of freaked out by it, finally understanding that just how dangerous this girl could be. Did she say she tore Goliath apart? What did that even mean?

What Smoke had told him gave Bruce an idea, but it didn't assuage any of his previous fears.

He decided not to face it until the girl made it important by bringing it up herself. So far, she hadn't, and spent most of the day working on the equations he had given her. She had solved the first one yesterday, her work scattered across several spare sheets. Her handwriting was messy, mostly because she was using her left, non-dominant hand.

She seemed all right, though. She still annoyed him through conversation that he couldn't avoid, smiled every once in a while, and ate all her food, eating a little more now, actually. It wouldn't be long until she could leave. He imagined she was just counting down the hours now.

But her behavior was muted, her attempts at conversation only half-hearted. Bruce might've been doing them both a favor by rebuking her, but he didn't have the heart. A part of him actually kind of liked having someone there to talk to. It was nice to feel so lonely all the time.

Smoke popped by again, apparently just to bring more supplies but Bruce suspected it might be something else.

His suspicions were confirmed, of course, when Smoke spent the rest of his stay crouching behind the arm of the couch, looking over the girl's shoulder as she tried to finish the second question.

"Do you actually understand that?" Smoke asked her, half joking and half serious. "Are you really doing this for fun?"

"There's nothing else for me to do," she said, tilting her head to frown at him. "Stop breathing on my hair."

"So you're telling me that you're this supersmart teenager who can solve intense physics problems while she's high," Smoke said, leaning away from her a little bit. "Only to waste all of that by punching robbers in the face every day?"

"That's what I said," Bruce called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, see?" Smoke said, raising a hand as if that was all the proof he needed to show the girl that she was crazy.

"If you're saying I'm wasting my talents while I could be finding a cure for cancer, then save it," the girl snapped, putting down the notepad to glare at the ceiling. "This is my way of helping people, and I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job, thank you very much."

Smoke just huffed, unimpressed. "Yeah, yeah, okay. So, are you still going on a date with this mystery guy?"

"I am so not talking about this with you."

"Oh, come on! You gotta at least tell me how you two met. Was it love at first sight?"

The teasing in Smoke's voice had come to the point where Bruce was worried that the girl might punch him, or worse, use her powers. Smoke may be a clever thief, but he didn't know when to keep his mouth shut.

Surprising, the girl didn't attack anyone. "We bumped into each other and he spilled his coffee on me. He apologized and tried to ask me out to make up for it. I don't know, it was stupid."

"Are you kidding me?" Smoke started to laugh. "That's, like, right out of every rom-com ever. The classic Meet Cute. You're telling me you actually fell for that?"

"You're telling me he did that on purpose?" she shot back.

"I don't know. Maybe. You'd be surprised how low a guy will go just to get a girl. He's probably just a PUA — a pick-up artist, if you didn't know, and they totally ruin the game for the rest of us who're actually looking for meaningful relationships."

The girl laughed so hard Bruce wondered if she might pull her stitches. "Oh, my god, don't tell me you're a romantic all of a sudden?"

"All of a sudden? Excuse me, but I'm Italian. If anyone knows romance, it's us."

Eavesdropping was fun and all, but Bruce couldn't help but call from the kitchen, "I thought you said you were from Jersey!"

"That's irrelevant!" Smoke retorted over the girl's chortling. "Besides, Jersey has a healthy Italian population and I don't know why it gets so much flak as it does."

"Jersey just wishes it was as cool as New York," the girl said, clearly trying to provoke Smoke. "But it tries too hard."

"I don't know why I put up with you," the thief growled, sounding like he was rolling his eyes. "You don't appreciate anything I do. I'm still waiting for that thank you card, by the way."

"Well, let me just walk on over to the nearest drug store looking like the patient of the week from Grey's Anatomy. I'm sure that'll go well."

"So you're not going to do it?"

"I didn't say that. Can you at least wait until I'm able to walk again?"

"Which isn't going to happen if you talk her death," Bruce finally interjected, walking back into the living room with a fresh mug of coffee. Smoke was camped out on the floor, and Bruce wondered why he wasn't more bothered by the fact he was harboring known fugitives in his own house. He was getting way too used to this.

"Fine, I didn't want to stay anyways," Smoke huffed with exaggerated pomp, getting up and brushing off his jacket. "I hope you nerds have fun with your silly math equations and Jeopardy."

Bruce didn't bother to correct him, just nodded in the satisfaction of knowing that at least Smoke would listen to him. He walked around them, heading up the stairs when he saw the girl move, catching Smoke's wrist before he could leave. "Smoke, wait."

He only barely heard her words before she went out of earshot. "I need you to do something for me..."

OoOoO

The girl figured it out on December 23rd, two days after she remembered what happened.

Bruce should've known something was wrong when she didn't speak to him when he got up that morning. The girl seemed to have already been up for awhile, yet the TV was off and the books remained closed. She didn't look up when he came down the stairs.

He passed by her on the way to the kitchen. Unaware, he asked, "Up already? I didn't think you were a morning person."

"You lied to me."

Bruce froze in the doorway. All his previous thoughts vanished as panic took him. What had she found out? Was it the Other Guy? How would she have known? Was she going to the police, tell them she was held captive by a...by a monster?

There was only one way to find out. Bruce was almost too afraid to know. Then, slowly, he turned around.

The girl had gotten off the couch, was now standing upright. Despite the sling and the bandages and the hospital slacks, the girl appeared fearless. She looked him right in the eye. "You lied to me. Why?"

"I..." Bruce opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, but nothing came out. He couldn't hold her gaze, turned his attention to the coffee table as he ran a hand through his hair. God dammit. He should've known this would have backfired right in his face. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

"You wanted me to be safe?" The girl repeated in a critical tone, pointing at herself. "Because to me it sounds like you're trying to protect yourself. I wanted your help. You saw what happened, with the books. I told you what I did to Goliath. But you still didn't say anything. You didn't care."

Wait, that's what she was upset about? Bruce had completely miscalculated the situation - but he was no less out of his depth. He tried to correct himself, maybe give her an explanation she'd understand. Back pedaling, Bruce said, "No, I -"

"You didn't care!" She yelled, gaze glimmering and fragile. Bruce could hear the glass rattling in the kitchen cabinets behind him. Her fists clenched and she shook her head, "and you call yourself a doctor. What a joke."

"Y-you don't understand, I'm not, I mean, I can't..." Bruce stuttered over his words, trying to find the right thing to say. He was walking on thin ice - the girl was this close to bringing down the whole house, and neither of them wanted that. "Look, I'm not the guy you think I am, okay? I'm not that kind of doctor. I diagnose physical injuries, I patch them up, that's it. I don't have the-the temperament for what you need."

"So, what you told me, back in November," the girl said, glaring at him through her tears. "Was just bullshit?"

He closed his eyes, rubbed his hand over his face, pushing his glasses up on his head. "Yes and no. It was...it was based on personal experience. Obviously, it's-its subjective. And it barely even worked for me. Smoke only asked for temporary help, and that's what I provided. I didn't promise anything else."

"So you can't help me." The girl surmised through gritted teeth.

He exhaled, leaning against the doorframe. "Not in that way, no."

The girl huffed, lifting her chin and taking a deep breath. Bruce expected her to say something, maybe further insult him, but he was surprised when she just turned around and walked away.

He looked up, frowning, as she wrenched the door open. What was she doing? She wasn't actually going to leave, was she? Bruce pushed himself off the wall, concern accidentally slipping into his voice. "W-Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," She snapped, turning one last furious look at him. her gray eyes flashing like metal. She was shaking all over, her balance uneven. Her arm was bleeding from where she ripped the IV out. "Won't that make you happy?"

Bruce imagined she wanted to make a dramatic exit, because teenagers and their overinflated egos. The girl burst open the door, stepped into the freezing cold open air. Whatever effect she was going for, it was ruined before she even made it down the front steps. It was icy from recent snowfall and she slipped in her haste and anger, and disappeared from sight with a startled yelp.

Bruce scrambled after her, images of the girl cracking her skull against the frozen ground flashing in his mind. No, no, no! He had seen the results too many times in hospitals to let it happen again on his watch.

But the girl had caught herself against the metal railing, crumpling on the steps in a heap. He came to a stop behind the screen door, watching her behind the glass. She just sat there, hunched and defeated. What was she going to do, wait until a cab drove by? Where did she have left to go?

Bruce allowed the girl a moment of silence before cracking the door open. He spoke softly, "Come back inside. It's freezing out here."

The girl flinched at his words, her shoulders hunching further and her head ducking down, but she said nothing. The girl curled inward, hugging herself, trying to conserve whatever warmth and dignity she had left.

Realizing it was going to take a lot more than that to breach her stubbornness, Bruce groaned inwardly and stepped out into the chilly air. He had the foresight to grab his coat on the hook, but didn't put it on as he intended to. Bruce wasn't sure why, but his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. He had to do something now, not back out and prove the girl right, even though she already was.

As he stepped down, the girl huddled against the railing, as if to put more distance between them. Bruce sat down on the step above her, clasping his hands together before saying in his most earnest tone, "Will you please come back inside?"

"Why?" She asked, her voice thick with tears and bitterness. The girl seemed ashamed of her crying, and kept her face turned away from him, even when he tried to get a better look at her. "You don't want me here anyways."

"No," he admitted, sheepish, but made himself stern when he said, "but I want you to go home in one piece. I'm not letting you freeze to death."

"Drop dead." She muttered, icy as the winter around them.

If it were only that easy. Bruce heaved a sigh. Well, he tried his best, but it seemed as though no amount of appeasement could make her listen to him now. "Well, if you ever change your mind, the door's unlocked."

He made to press his hand onto her shoulder, perhaps as a show of reassurance. But Bruce paused, his hand inches from her skin, before realizing that it would be a bad idea. The girl would react negatively, maybe even leave altogether. But he couldn't force her inside, either. Instead, Bruce took the coat, nearly forgotten in his lap, and stood up. Before going inside, however, he place the coat over the girl's shoulders - it was far too big for her, but at least it would keep her mildly warm for the time being.

Then he went back inside.

There was a high possibility that the girl might just take off with his coat, but somehow that didn't bother the doctor. He considered it would be karmic, retribution for his behavior, whether it was really deserving or not.

Either way, Bruce felt guilty. Not enough to back down from his stance, however; perhaps that was why he was being so lenient.

The girl only stayed outside for another twenty minutes before finding the cold less tolerable than the inside of the house. She returned to her place on the couch and did not so much as speak or even look at Bruce for the rest of the day.

OoOoO

On Christmas Eve morning, Bruce came down the stairs, almost experiencing a sense of déjà vu with the dread building in his stomach. He could barely sleep the night before; all he could think about was the things he wanted to say to the girl, try to make things better between them. It was his fault, after all. He shouldn't have treated her that way.

But the couch was empty. The sling lay abandoned on the table. The IV bag was empty, the tube coiled around the hook. The blanket was folded neatly on one end of the couch, the pillow fluffed up and perked on the other.

She was gone.

Bruce stumbled over the last step, caught off guard by the sudden absence. He caught himself on the railing, stared at the empty living room. Even the books had been put away, all in their right spots. It was almost as if she had never even been here at all.

A sudden desperation came over him, a type of worry he hadn't experienced in ages. Where did the girl go? When did she leave? Why didn't she say anything? She didn't even give him a chance to make things right. It wasn't fair.

Bruce got a hold of himself before his thoughts could get away from him. No, this was completely fair. It was what he deserved.