Ashe awoke with a start. They sprung immediately out of bed, but their movement was stopped by the IVs pulling them back. Ashe jerked back from the horrifying wave of pain that reverberated through their body and grabbed at their side. They sighed and reclined.

Where am I?

They were in a small room, sterile and white. Attached to them were an IV and a pulse reader connected to a monitor showing their vitals. Ashe was not wearing their own clothes, they were now in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. They also could feel bandages wrapped around their torso. Turning their head, they saw their tattered and singed black vigilante outfit neatly folded on a table nearby. The window's curtains were drawn making the room dimly lit. On a dresser across from the bed were a small vase with flowers. It was a hollow room with a welcoming facade.

Captured?

By who? Why? Ashe could remember being betrayed and shot… and then after that? Someone must have taken them here to nurse them back to health.

Damn, how long have I been out?

There was no clock in the room. Ashe attempted to slowly sit up once more. They ripped out the IVs and the monitor began to beep loudly. Jumping to their feet, Ashe pushed the monitor over and kicked it a few times until the screen was thoroughly smashed in. That was one way to get it to stop beeping.

They staggered slowly and painfully to their possessions. No cell phone, no weapons. Only their clothing remained, and everything but their leather jacket was severely burned. They slipped the jacket on and began to survey the room for anything at all weapon-like.

There was a wooden chair in the corner. It took Ashe a few tries but they were able to finally break a leg off. They could feel how frail they were, but they needed to press on and get out of here. They leaned up against the wall near the door and tapped the handle. It wasn't locked. Swinging the door open wide they exited the room with the chair leg gripped tightly in their hands.

Ashe entered the hallway and was surprised. They weren't expecting it to seem like a chic, modern apartment. They were in a long hallway lined with abstract art and fancy light fixtures. Ashe hated it. There were doors along both walls, most likely more rooms Ashe guessed. They opened the door to the room across from them.

There was no one in it. The room looked like that of a teenage boy's. Clothes were strewn about and empty bottles were on the ground. The walls were cluttered with comic and movie posters. On one wall was a bookshelf filled with comics. Across from that was a desk with several monitors and a computer tower that was glowing all different colors. The cleanest part of the room looked to be a table with a large guinea pig enclosure on it.

Even more confused now, Ashe closed the door quietly. Where in the world were they? They continued down the hallway to where they heard distant voices. At the end of the hall was a large door that looked as if it slid open upon pushing a button. They pressed their ear to the door. It sounded like people were yelling on the other side.

Ashe adjusted the grip on the stick and readied themself to attack their captors. With a deep shaky breath, they hit the button to open the door and charged through.

A childlike voice cried from the other side of the room, "Go long, Connor."

Suddenly, an object was hurtling towards Ashe. They dashed to the right and felt a woosh of air pass them. Within a split second, a sizable young man stepped in front of Ashe and was holding the item in his hand. A bag of chips.

WAM CRACK

Ashe slammed the stick into the boy as hard as they could. The stick snapped into splinters and split in half as it made contact. He spun around to face Ashe, he was an imposing figure, wearing a black shirt with a red S on it. He did not appear injured, just sad and disappointed.

"Ow." The young man said, he rubbed his shoulder and looked upset.

Ashe dashed further back but stopped short when they felt stitches pull at their side. It looked like they were in a well furnished open concept living room that flowed into a kitchen. There was a long L shaped sectional in the room. Sitting on the sofa was a girl with dark purple hair who was reading a book. And across the living room was a young boy with green skin that presumably threw the chips.

Pointing the stub of the broken stick at them, Ashe faltered and stepped back. It was getting harder for them to stand. "What the hell? Who are you people?"

Calmly, the purple-haired girl put down her book and got to her feet. "I'm going to get Dick." she said before walking towards an elevator and exiting the room.

The young man with the green skin waved sheepishly at Ashe.. "Hi… You woke up, that's great. How are you-"

Ashe backed into the corner like a wounded animal. Their heart was racing out of their chest, and their eyes were wild. "I said who the hell are you?"

The tall boy walked back behind the green one. The green boy cleared his throat. "It's okay, we're the Titans… and we are here to uh save you, I guess?"

Ashe let out a pained chuckle, "God you mean that guy in blue spandex dragged me here? What's his name?"

The elevator doors slid open, "Nightwing," said a man with long black hair and piercing blue eyes as he stepped into the room. He was in civilian clothes but this was, without a doubt, the man who was in the warehouse with Ashe that night. "At your service. Why do you have a stick?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

"They hit me with it." The boy in the Superman shirt muttered.

Ashe looked down at the remainder of the stick and back at Nightwing, "You kidnapped me and are holding me hostage?"

He chuckled again and approached Ashe. "Kidnapped? Hostage? You were about to bleed out from gunshot wounds. You can leave whenever you like but if you keep pulling stitches it's going to take longer." Nightwing gestured to Ashe's side where blood was soaking through their shirt. "Let's change your bandages. Come on." he said kindly, holding out his arm to assist them.

They did not take his arm but nodded as they looked at him suspiciously. Hesitantly, Ashe followed him to the elevator. Nightwing hit a button to a lower floor. Ashe looked back at the other three, the one they had hit gave a timid wave as the metal doors shut.

Ashe studied Nightwing. He casually looked ahead with a slight grin on his face. "So," Ashe said slowly, "I can leave right now if I want?"

"Where would you go?" He questioned, he sounded sincere.

"What?"

Nightwing looked down at them and smiled a charming little smile, "Well, that was your 'friend', I assume, that shot you? And he and the rest of the gang that you're here with are the only people you know here right? Because you are from Gotham. Am I on the right track?" His voice was a little smug, he knew he was right.

Ashe inhaled deeply and exhaled a long, heavy sigh. How did he know all of this? Ashe was becoming irritated with the cocky behavior of this man. "You don't understand." they muttered.

"So I think you should at least stay here until you have healed a little. Does that sound good to you?" He continued as if he had not heard them. Before Ashe could say anything, the elevator doors opened.

Nightwing motioned for Ashe to go first, and they did. This floor was designed to resemble a medical wing. It felt like a big open hospital room. He entered the room and indicated for Ashe to sit on a hospital bed while he retrieved some supplies.

Ashe lifted their shirt, revealing bloodied bandages wrapped around their torso. Nightwing slowly proceeded to remove the bandages and examine the sutures. "You tore through your stitches. I'll have to do them again." He put on gloves, took out a little medical needle, and got to work.

Ashe averted their gaze. They winced in pain, careful not to let Nightwing notice. He was gentle and well trained. He must have done this a lot in the past, Ashe thought to themself. Once he was done he carefully wrapped fresh bandages around them. Ashe felt slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable with their shirt pulled up but Nightwing was very gentlemanly and polite.

Gritting their teeth, Ashe started talking to distract themself. "How long was I out for?"

"Almost three days now. Brought you back from the warehouse Tuesday night. You needed the rest though." He leaned back in this chair and took off his gloves, "Alrighty all done. So I didn't get the chance to ask you yet. What's your name?"

Ashe's gaze shifted from him to the ground. This question caught them off guard for a moment, but before they could react, their well-rehearsed response spilled out. "Ghost."

He chuckled, "No, not your code name. What's your real name?"

"Ghost."

For a little moment, Nightwing appeared perplexed. He paused and ruffled his black hair, as though contemplating something before speaking. "My name is Dick. Dick Grayson."

"You're telling me your civilian identity? That's a lot of trust for somebody you dragged in off the street." Ashe said half joking.

Standing up, Dick began to clean up the medical supplies, "Call it a calculated risk. But I tend to put my trust into the right people. Hopefully you'll trust me too one day." He turned to them and flashed them a wide charming grin that made Ashe's heart skip a beat. "You must be exhausted. Would you like me to walk you back to your room?"

Ashe stood up and for the first time in a very long time, they smiled back.