India found herself in a limbo, between the decimated cafe and untethered childhood recollections and clowns. Then to the soft cotton tucked around her body, and machines humming nearby.
The warm hand resting lightly on her own.
She opened her eyes there was Bruce, sitting by her side, looking off towards nothing. Her heart swelled, relief blooming warm inside her.
"Bruce?"
He looked down at her quickly, furrowed brow immediately smoothing.
"India." He smiled, leaning in close and brushing her hair back from her face. "How are you feeling?" She shifted against the hospital bed, bruised form resisting the movement.
Don't want him to worry.
"I'm fine," she whispered hoarsely. "Are you okay?"
"Don't worry about me, I'm alright." He paused, smiling reassuringly. "They said you can get out of here in a few days after your back heals."
India shivered, nearly felt the glass and rubble underneath her yet again.
"That man...he knew me."
"He can't-"
"Bruce, who is he?" She felt the beginnings of tears, tried her best to hold them back. "The explosions, the people!" Pain was a doubtful flicker as she rose up on her elbows.
"He's a criminal, and he can't hurt you and to make absolutely sure of that, I want you to go back to New Hampshire for a bit."
"No, I want to stay."
"It's not up for debate." Tension coiled her spent muscles, and she pulled her hand from under his.
"I'm not a child, and I want the truth. Why was he after me?"
"The Joker-"
"Who?"
"The man in the clown makeup, India. He was just trying to make a statement, cause panic."
"By killing people?" She breathed unsteadily, trembled. "Holding a gun to my head?"
"Exactly why I want you to leave Gotham."
"I want her out of here as soon as possible." His knuckles were white as he held the phone to his ear, pacing up and down the hallway outside of India's room. It was well after midnight, the hospital quiet and nearly empty.
"Was hoping to see her again, Bruce. It's been years."
"Rachel, there is a gash on her back from hip to shoulder. That freak was throwing her around, baiting me. I should never have brought her back here!" He took in a breath, hand moving up to loosen his tie. "How did he know?"
"At this point, everyone does, and um...Harvey hasn't had the chance to reach out yet, but you and India are in his thoughts."
Holy shit.
"I don't think it's necessary for me to explain why that doesn't make me feel better, considering what I do." Rachel scoffed.
"Yeah, I suppose it isn't. She's willing to leave?"
"Why wouldn't she be?"
"Oh, come on. You can't force her, Bruce. I'd bet money that she's a lot stronger than you think. You are her brother."
"Not by blood."
"You sound cold."
"I don't mean it like that. I almost lost her."
"You should get some rest. Let this city figure itself out for once. India will be fine."
He didn't want her around.
That single thought tumbled around in her head until sleep was completely and utterly out of reach. Then, the pain medication began to leave her system, and despite the urge to call for a nurse, she turned in on herself. Inhaling deeply, letting out breath between clenched teeth. Adjusting herself endlessly in hopes that a different position would hurt less than the one before.
She cried for what felt like hours, until her cheeks were sticky and overheated.
The Joker.
It was all too unreal, too ridiculous. Some sort of horrible fever dream.
The sobs became exhausted sniffles, lids falling closed. One foot dipped into comforting unconsciousness, only to be yanked back.
There was a hand over her mouth, bare and warm and salty.
India's eyes snapped open, the blurry image of a man towering above nearly stopping her heart altogether. Before her body could react, both wrists were grabbed and forced above her head, hitting the upper rails of the bed with damaging force. Her pained yelp muffled against his hand.
A moment passed, maybe several, before she forced herself to look at her assaulter.
At first, In the orange glow of dimmed hospital lights, he looked normal, could even be considered handsome.
Ice cascaded through her veins.
Messy hair tinged green. Small, dark eyes. Scars, without the gruesome paint, bared for her to see. Botched, curling up from the corners of his thin lips.
"I, uh, promised you a story about them, didn't I?" His whisper was high and gritty, like sandpaper against her ear. "Not yet, nope. We barely even know each other." She kicked her legs, and the pressure on her small wrists increased.
"Wouldn't do that, Miss Wayne. It's just simply not...worth it." He leaned in close, and she turned her face from him.
Why is this happening?
"If I take my hand off of that pretty little mouth, are you going to scream? Because uh, if you do, I'll cut it right off. What do you say?" She shook her head, and he lifted his palm slowly, fingers sliding from her cheek one by one. India shuddered.
"Look at me," he growled. She obeyed. "Ah, you are a gem. Bruce can't possibly keep it tucked for long, huh?"
"I-I don't understand," she squeaked.
"Of course you don't, simpleton. Doesn't really matter, yeah? I know he wants to uh, ship you back, so to speak."
"You're hurting me-"
"I wouldn't send you away, India. No, I'd keep you locked up all for myself." He paused, stroking her damp hair idly. "That's what I would do."
The menace behind those words proved tangible, as he pulled her from the bed violently. She hung from his grasp, legs desperately trying to hold up her weight. He snaked an arm around her waist, his heat bleeding through her thin gown.
"We're gonna take a little trip, India."
