A cry of pain immediately woke Bruce. "Shayera," Bruce rushed to the Thanagarian's side. She was trying to leave the bed again. Bruce firmly placed his hands on Shayera's shoulders, holding her still. He did notwant a repeat of a few hours ago. "Breathe, breathe," Bruce repeated, willing the traumatized Thanagarian to relax. Shayera stared up at him with wide, fearful green eyes. "Inhale and exhale. Do what I do," Bruce repeated. Shayera's body tensed as if she was preparing to fight him. But then recognition shone in her vibrant green eyes, and Bruce's grip on her shoulders loosened just a bit. "Inhale and exhale," he repeated, more to himself. Stress and tightness left his muscles as he watched Shayera do as he said. Once her breathing normalized, Bruce helped Shayera sit up. He then grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand. "Drink slowly," he said lifting it to her mouth, keeping his hands near the glass in case she needed help.

Shayera drank greedily. She felt so sick. Why was she so thirsty? Why was she so hot? Why was Bruce here? Where was here? Why couldn't her body seem to get enough water? So many questions, so few answers! She was beginning to panic. The glass began to shake in her hand as she handed it out to…to…who was this guy?

"Shayera," Bruce said, quickly taking the glass from her trembling hands as he watched a myriad of emotions dance across Shayera's face – none of them good. "You need to stay calm," he grabbed a nearby syringe. He didn't want to have to drug her again, but he knew he was going to have to.

"Where – where am I?" Shayera looked around wildly. Bruce immediately placed the back of his hand against her forehead. She was burning up. "Why am I here? Who – who are you?" Bruce froze at that unexpected question.

"You don't know who I am?" he repeated slowly. He watched as another panic attack began to take hold of her. Shayera didn't seem to hear him. Her knees were drawn to her chest, and she was rocking back and forth, muttering in a language that he could only assume was native to her.

"Shayera," Bruce's hands automatically went to her perspiring face. "Shayera," he said her name again. He tried getting her attention, but her eyes were wide and glazed over. Her body temperature seemed to be rising every second. He was going to have to drug her again.

"Shayera," Bruce said, blindly reaching for the syringe nearby, "if you can hear me, you're safe. But I have to sedate you." Shayera continued muttering and rocking. "I'm sorry," Bruce apologized as he stuck the needle in her arm. Shayera didn't even flinch; her body didn't fight the drug. She was comatose within 20 seconds. Once her body went completely limp, Bruce pulled the covers up to her. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead. She was burning up. Her fever needed to be lowered ASAP. Looks like he had a long night ahead of him.


"Keep it up, Shayera!" An older Thanagarian stood by the edge of the pool, arms crossed. His mask did little to hide the indifference on his face. "Do not stop until I say stop."

"I'm (cough) tired," little Shayera said as she continued to tread water. Her arms were sore; her wings were heavy; her legs burned. Her eyes glistened with water and unshed tears. Her mother stood tall and regal behind her father. She said nothing as she held a swaddled baby in her arms. Her sister.

Keep your arms above your head!" her father, the General, ordered.

"I c – c – can't," Shayera muttered.

"You willnotstop," her father stated firmly. Shayera continued to pump her little legs. Disobedience was not an option.

"How long has she been at it?" she heard her mother ask.

"Forty-five minutes," he answered.

"I thought we agreed on 30 minutes, Talov. She's only 5."

"She's fine. She's a fighter. Isn't that right?" her father crouched down, staring deep into her eyes through the whites of his mask. "I said, isn't that right?" he repeated himself.

"Yes, F-f-father," Shayera struggled to say.

"Keep going."

"Don't keep her too long," her mother said. "The Talaks will be here soon." Shayera couldn't do it anymore.

"Keep going, Shayera," her father ordered her. She felt weird. Everything looked…. fuzzy. Her eyes slowly began to close. "Shayera!" she heard her father bark. Her eyes snapped open. "

"Keep going."

"I – I can't," she finished slowly as her eyes began to close.

"Shayera?" Was that worry in her dad's voice. "Shayera!" was the last thing she heard was a splash before she felt her body slip beneath the surface.


Shayera's eyes flew open with a gasp. She didn't know where she was. She was lying in a bed, but that was all she knew. A brief wave of panic washed over her, but she immediately began grounding herself. "Control the situation, don't let it control you," she muttered to herself. The panic disappeared after a few calming breaths. She began taking inventory of her body. She wiggled her fingers and her toes; she flexed every muscle in her arms and legs. She tried to roll over to shake out her wings –her wings!

Reality came crashing in like a tsunami.Issi. Katar. The nasty sound of bones crunching and breaking.A shudder worked its way through her body as negative emotions threatened to swallow her up. She closed her eyes. "No," Shayera breathed out, willing the memories to stop.

"Shayera?" a deep voice startled her. Shayera whipped her head towards the sound of the voice. A tall, black-haired, lightly tanned, gorgeous man stood in the doorway, holding a pitcher of water. He was watching her. Concern and curiosity shone in his bright, blue eyes.

"B-bruce?" she squawked. Shayera immediately flinched. Her voice sounded hoarse and dry. The tall male smirked before confidently strolling into the room.

"You remembered," Bruce said. Shayera slowly sat up, starting a little at the tiny pricks of pain she felt in her back.

"Why wouldn't I remember your name?" she coughed, shifting her body so her back was barely resting on the headboard. She cleared her throat, jumping when a glass of water appeared in her vision. She looked at it questioningly before looking up at the hand it was attached to. Bruce was smiling down at her gently. Shayera slowly took it from his hand and gulped the water down. The icy coldness of the beverage felt so good sliding down her esophagus. "Thank you," she muttered, handing the large glass back to Bruce.Bruce nodded, placing the now empty glass back on the nightstand. He then sat on the edge of the bed, a good two feet of space between them. They sat in silence as Shayera stared at her hands. She wasn't ready to talk about it, but she needed to. "This is your house," she said, playing with her hands. "It's big." She heard Bruce scoff. It's big,was a huge understatement. "It's like a fortress," she added with a whisper.

"I used to think so," she heard Bruce reply. Silence overtook the two again. "Shayera," Bruce continued, "we don't have to talk about- "

"Why am I here?" Shayera interrupted him, meeting his gaze head-on.

"You have somewhere else to be?" Bruce asked with a raised brow. Shayera peered at him. Was he mocking her or trying to get a rise out of her?

"No," she answered sharply. "I mean, why am I here at your house? Why am I not at a hospital or something?"

"I don't think a hospital is properly equipped to- "

"Damn it, Bruce!" Shayera clenched her fists, "you know what I mean." Bruce said nothing. He only stared at her with such intensity, Shayera almost looked away.Almost.

"I thought it would be best if you convalesced in a more neutral environment."

"Your castle is a neutral environment?"

"Would you rather be surrounded by ex-teammates?" Bruce bit back sharply, letting a bit of his Batman persona slip through. He immediately regretted his tone as he watched Shayera bristle.

"Sorry," she apologized.

"No," Bruce softened his face, "I'm sorry. It's been a rough few weeks."

"Few weeks?" Shayera looked at him in horror. "Few weeks? Wasn't – didn't – "

"Shayera," Bruce shifted his body more towards her, "breathe."

"But...how long – a week at the most," she looked at him desperately. She watched a myriad of emotions cross Bruce's face. (And by a myriad, she meant she saw two different emotions.)

"Shayera," Bruce said her name calmly, "it's been 29 days." A sharp pain filled her chest as water rushed to her eyes, but Shayera refused to cry. She had to have heard him wrong.

"Um…what?" she asked. Bruce gave her a look of empathy. "H-h-how?" Shayera gasped.

"This isn't your first time waking."

"It's not?" she asked. A hazy memory replayed in the back of her mind. "Did I really throw an old man?" she gasped. A laugh burst through Bruce's lips startling both him and Shayera.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as his handsome face shone with humor. "Alfred doesn't like being called 'old'," he continued to laugh.

"I threw Alfred?" Shayera covered her mouth in horror. She loved Alfred; he was the only one who had been nice to her during the invasion.

"It was less of a throw, more of a hard shove," Bruce reassured her with a smile that only caused Shayera's heart to race in her chest. "And he's fine. He doesn't even have a scratch."

"Are you sure?" Shayera asked, slowly lowering her hands from her mouth.

"I'm positive. He's a lot tougher than he looks."

"Okay," Shayera sighed. She then looked down at her state of dress, just noticing the oversized sweatshirt. "Whose clothes am I wearing?"

"Mine," Bruce answered immediately. "At first you were in hospital gowns, but then we needed to keep the wounds covered without upsetting them. So, baggy sweatshirt."

"Oh," Shayera replied. "Thank you." Bruce inclined his head towards her. "What now?" Shayera asked, steering the conversation from her wings.

"You stay in bed and recover," Bruce answered.

"For how long?" Shayera asked with a furrowed brow.

"Until you are completely recovered," Bruce said, bracing himself for an argument. Shayera had always been a tough patient. Alfred thought Bruce didn't know how to slow down. Well, Bruce had nothing on Shayera.

"Well, what happens after I completely recover?" Shayera asked instead, the lack of contention briefly surprising him.

"Well," Bruce cleared his throat, "we prepare Earth for visitors."

"You don't think Thanagar will invade again, do you?"

"I'm more concerned about what the Gordanians will do," he answered honestly.

"I should have never come to Earth," Shayera muttered tiredly. She was tired and in pain. A lot of pain – physically and emotionally.

"You know," Bruce said leaning back slightly. "The entire two years we worked together, you never once spoke about Thanagar or your life before the Justice League or why you were on Earth."

"Is there a question in there?" Shayera asked flatly.

"No. Just an observation."

"Well ask away. It's not like I can go anywhere in this condition," she folded her arms with a huff.

"Maybe another time. Right now, I want to see you try to keep something down other than water. I'll have Alfred bring something up from the kitchen, as well as some pain meds."

"I don't need pain meds," was Shayera's automatic response.

"Really?" Bruce quirked a brow.

"No, I'm in pain," Shayera relented. Her shoulders slumped even lower. Her wings were gone, and now she was accepting human pain meds. She really was weak, pathetic, and disgusting.


Bruce was worried about Shayera. He'd been worried since this whole thing began. But now he was worried about the fact that she wasn't letting herself process the negative emotions tied with losing her wings. As far as Bruce was concerned, he was the poster child for not processing negative emotions. Bruce wasn't an idiot; he knew he was crazy. He was a rich adult who spent nights dressed like a bat jumping from rooftops. But he loved his vigilante lifestyle. It was one of the reasons why he only participated in physical therapy.

Shayera, however, had been bred to fight from day one. She never verbally admitted to that, but it didn't take a genius to realize that. Any doubts he had about that fact left him after Thanagar's invasion. (A lot of the Thanagarian 'infantry/foot soldiers' didn't look old enough to drive.)

If Bruce lost the use of his legs, he would enter a deep depression; but he'd be able to move on. His legs weren't his identity; pummeling people in alleyways wasn't his identity…even though there were days where he wished it was. The point – he'd be able to move on. Shayera's wings, on the other hand, were a huge part of her identity. Bruce wasn't sure about Thanagarian hierarchy, but from what little he'd gleaned over the years – also, based on watching her body attempt to recover – Shayera's wings were a huge part of her psyche. The way her internal organs began shutting down – the way her brain shut down for a few moments, the glazed look in her eyes just a few moments ago…Bruce sighed heavily as he entered the kitchen.

"Master Bruce," Alfred greeted him.

"She's awake," Bruce replied. "Aware of her surroundings. We had a brief conversation."

"Wonderful," Alfred sighed, relief coloring the old butler's voice.

"She needs some pain meds."

"Do you think she's well enough to eat something?"

"I was just about to suggest that."

"Great minds," Alfred nodded. "I'll prepare something light for her." Bruce opened his mouth to respond when an alarm on his phone went off. He didn't even have to check his phone. It was a Justice League alert.

"I have to go," Bruce said.

"Worry not, Master Bruce. I have everything under control," Alfred stated confidently.

"Yeah," Bruce scoffed as he remembered running into the guest room, seeing Alfred, Jason, and Tim sprawled out on the floor. "I'll tell Jason and Tim to end patrol early, just in case."

"If you insist, Master Bruce."

"Oh, I insist," Bruce said before leaving. "I very much insist!" he said loud enough for Alfred to hear him before finding the nearest secret entrance to the batcave. He had a meeting to attend.


"What are we going to do with her?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Shouldn't we wait for the Caped Crusader?" the Martian Manhunter asked.

"I'm sure Batman won't mind that we started without him," Superman smiled kindly at his fellow alien. "Wonder Woman, please continue."

"As I was saying," Wonder Woman continued, "what are we going to do with…Shayera?" Wonder Woman asked, snarling as she said her ex-teammate's name.

"What do you mean 'what are we going to do with her'?" the Flash asked her, his annoyance evident. "We're going to protect her, and keep her safe, obviously. We're going to help her get better. That's not a question that even needs answering!"

"I don't think that's wise," Wonder Woman glared.

"Of course, you don't!" Flash shot back.

"You probably want to hand her to the Gordanians yourself!"

"I would never- "

"What? You'd never what?" Flash challenged.

"Don't blame me for what happened to Shayera!" Diana's eyes blazed in fury. "I didn't think the Thanagarians were going to torture her! What happened to her wasn't my fault!"

"The invasion wasn't Shayera's fault either, and you know that!" Flash slammed his fist on the table.

"Flash," Superman attempted to intervene.

"You too, Superman," Flash's head snapped towards Superman, "at least she didn't go on a violent spree like a certain someone." Superman looked away shamefully.

"That was not my fault," Superman replied softly. "Lex poisoned me."

"Shocker," Flash snapped. The Kryptonian glared at the speedster. "If you can't be held responsible for your actions, neither should Shayera," Flash surmised, "she was tricked, but she chose us in the end. She betrayed her entire planet for us. And for that, we let them take her wings."

"We tried to stop them," Wonder Woman argued weakly.

"Only after they tore through her right wing. Let's be honest. We knew what they were going to do as soon as they forced her to the ground. And you're awfully quiet," Flash turned to John. "Nothing to say?"

"I washed my hands of Shayera two years ago," Green Lantern answered.

Flash scoffed with an eye roll.

"You're right," Superman said softly.

"Huh?" Flash said, slightly disoriented by that statement.

"You're right," Superman repeated, "I didn't want to believe it, but-"

"Are you guys done arguing?" All league members jumped at the sound of Batman's voice...except for J'ohnn. He had sensed the void that surrounded the Dark Knight like a bubble.

"Dude," the Flash began, "how long have you been there?" Batman ignored him.

"We're going to keep Shayera safe," Batman announced.

"I agree," the Flash said, happy that the protector of Gotham was on his side.

"Of course, you both would want to keep her safe," Wonder Woman mumbled, folding her arms as her face formed a pout.

"Listen," Flash prepared to go another round with Wonder Woman.

"Enough you two," Superman silenced them before they could argue. "Like everything else, we vote. Batman and Flash want to protect Shayera. I actually agree."

"Really, Kal-el?" Wonder Woman said in disbelief.

"I thought handing her over to her own kind was a good idea. I was wrong."

"With Superman, that makes four. Wonder Woman obviously wants Shayera completely out of the picture," Flash said.

"I didn't say that," Wonder Woman growled.

"That leaves J'ohnn and John," Flash turned to the two silent but pensive members.

"I have been thinking about this for quite some time," J'ohnn answered. "I believe we should protect Shayera." Flash smiled gratefully at the green alien.

"That leaves John," Flash turned to John with a smile, "but even if he does want to side with Wonder Woman, it wouldn't matter." Green Lantern rolled his eyes.

"You can be such a child sometimes," Green Lantern muttered beneath his breath.

"Theyayshave it!" Flash announced with a bright smile. Wonder Woman rolled her eyes.

"Batman, how do you- "Flash stopped speaking when he realized the Bat was no longer in the room. He looked at the other occupants of the room who looked just as confused as he did.

"I barely heard him move that time," Superman muttered in awe.

"Does he not realize how annoying that is?" Flash grumbled in annoyance. "A simple 'goodbye' would suffice."

Batman popped his head back around the corner.

"And Shayera is doing fine, just in case you were wondering."

"Stop doing that!" Flash yelled at Batman's disappearing figure.