Galatea stares at the monitor of the BatComputer in horror. How did this happen? The blaring sound of the medical monitor's beeping resounds in her ears. They just got there. Robin's heart rate is dropping, along with his blood pressure, at an alarming rate. The monitor beeps wildly in warning of the danger he's in. Dick. What's happening? Alfred vocalizes what she cannot.
"Master Bruce, what's going on?"
"It's Robin. Robin's been injured. I-"
"Master Bruce…"
"He's losing a lot of blood. I have to stem his bleeding. I-"
The sound of these unfathomable words causes a ringing in Galatea ears that drowns out the deafening beep of the monitor. The tone in Bruce's voice lets her know the situation is serious, as even he is in some amount of shock. I have to do something. I can't just sit here in shock, too. She swallows, in an attempt to clear the lump in her throat, and takes in a deep breath. Get it together Galatea. Put your feelings aside for now and think…how can you help him from here? After only a moment of thought, an idea occurs to her and she steps forward to the comm.
Please have it on you, Dick.
"Bruce, I have an idea."
"Is that Galatea? What's she doing there?" Bruce's tone shifts a little into anger at the sound of her, but it does not overtake the overtone of concern for Dick.
"Sir," Alfred starts, before Galatea interjects on her own account.
"We can argue about what I'm doing here later, but right now you're just going to have to trust me. I'm here to help, Bruce, and I think I know how I can. Somewhere inside of Dick's utility belt there should be a small round stone; if you can find it, I can be of some use."
"Very well." After a few moments of quiet rustling, Bruce speaks up again. "A smooth, white stone with a hempen rope?"
He still has it! Thank the gods.
"That's the one. It contains some of my healing energy; it should buy him some time. This is going to sound strange but I want you to take it off the rope and put the stone into his wound. After you put the stone in, treat his wound like you normally would. When you get back here I can take care of the rest."
"If there's a chance it will help, I have to take it. I'm going to trust you."
"Thank you Bruce. I promise you won't regret this."
"Hang on Dick," Bruce whispers on the comm.
The wavering undercurrent of grief in his plea makes a lump grow back in Galatea's throat. Hang on. She echoes his plea in her mind. Just hold on until you get back here, that's all I ask. If you can do that, Dick, I promise I'll save you. Just as she finishes that thought, a sudden sharp thrum of energy interrupts her, causing her to double over. A phantom image of a blood-soaked Robin flashes before her eyes, pulsing with the beat of her own heart. What is this?
"Miss Galatea?"
Alfred's voice sounds so far away, but she recognizes he is calling out to her. Then that electrical sensation overtakes her thoughts again. This time something more difficult to explain flashes behind her eyes, something more of a feeling than an actual image. All at once she is overwhelmed with a kind of awareness at Dick's state of being. As if she is the very blood coursing through his body, she can sense the entire network of veins from his heart to his extremities.
This must be an effect of the soul stone. It's as if I'm a part of him.
With this newfound awareness she detects a dark and ominous gap in her senses. Cautiously she follows the trail down to it, an anxiety building in her as she does.
This is….this is your wound, isn't it?
Thankfully she cannot feel the pain of it once she recognizes it, but it does fill her with an indescribable dread. Feeling it there, recognizing its severity, makes her heart ache. Dick. She reaches out towards his wound with her mind, regarding it with tender affection.
This time…I'll protect you.
The darkness starts to warm with gentle tendrils of light and her sense of dread begins to subside, allowing Alfred's voice to break through. Suddenly it is as clear as day and her awareness of Dick's body ebbs to a quiet thrum in the back of her mind.
"Miss Galatea," Alfred asks again, "are you alright?"
She looks up at him with eyes like quiet starlight, glowing with a gentle silver luminescence, giving him a bit of a start. Her eyes struggle to focus on his face, bringing her consciousness back to the here and now as she begins to recognize him. Even after her eyes come to focus, everything seems to have a strange, over-exposed kind of haze to it. She offers him a gentle smile in an attempt to soothe his worry.
"Yes, I'm sorry."
"Your eyes," he observes with trepidation.
"Ah, sorry to alarm you. I'm experiencing a kind of side effect from the stone, I think. It's a good thing; at least now I know Bruce heeded my advice."
"Will you be alright?"
He asks her this as he helps her up from her place on the floor.
"Yes, I think so. More importantly, I think Dick is going to make it. We should get ready for their return. Do you keep his blood type on-hand? I think he's going to need it."
"Yes, of course. There are supplies for an IV and wound care in the medical wing. I will show you where everything is."
When they arrive in the medical wing, Alfred points her in the direction of a number of supplies to gather. They hurriedly assemble the necessary materials on top of a gurney in anticipation of their patient's arrival. Observing his command of the materials around them, she is able to gather that Alfred is usually the one in charge of their medical care. He moves with experience, which is a welcome comfort for her. After what only feels like a few moments since they had begun preparing, they hear the mechanical hum of the cave's vehicle entrance. The two of them exchange a quick glance between each other and rush the gurney and supplies over to it. The sound of a speeding vehicle echoes throughout the cave as they rush to meet them, steeling their nerves in preparation for what they are about to see.
The Batmobile's tires screech to a halt and before it comes to a complete stop, Batman is already exiting the vehicle with Robin in his arms. He deftly leaps out, carrying Robin's bloodied form, and lands in front of them. The sight of Galatea and her strangely glowing eyes gives Batman pause. His eyes narrow on her, suspicious of her presence there and the unfamiliar magicks she is employing. Despite his gaze, she stands firm and resolute in the wake of his suspicion.
" Let me see him."
Silently Bruce complies, gently laying him down onto the gurney. Even with the care he pays to handling him, Robin winces in pain when he makes contact with it. After Bruce pulls away, he turns his gaze back to Galatea, searching for signs of intent hidden in her micro expressions and body language. Oblivious to his scrutiny, Galatea is absorbed with the sight before her. Instinctively she reaches down towards Robin, in somewhat of a state of disbelief, and removes his mask, confirming her fear.
Dick.
She's not sure what she expected to see once she removed that mask, she's always known it was him behind it, but something about that final connection makes it real. Seeing that recognizable face, normally fixed into a happy smile, twisted in pain, makes her want to retreat inside of herself. Her mind instantly reels back, reliving memories of familiarly battered faces of the children from her past. She fights against the urge to follow that dark path into the unfathomable depths of despair that lie in her heart.
How many times have I had to do this before? I'd nearly forgotten what it was like.
This time is distinctly different though. This face belongs to someone strong and capable, someone that it shouldn't have happened to.This time instead of pity and fear for a similar fate, she feels empathy and fear of loss. She's experienced a lot of horrible things in her life, but this, this is somehow new. But why? Why does her heart ache at the sight of him? How is it possible for her to be affected like this when she has seen this kind of thing so many times before? Then she realizes it.
I care about him more than I thought. I think I'm afraid; I'm afraid to lose him. No, that's only part of it; I don't want to lose him.
"Dick," she says softly to him as she gently cups his face. Don't go.
Weakly he replies to her, "Gal?"
"I'm here." She offers him reassurance before he winces again in pain, unintentionally leaning further into her delicate grasp. "You're going to be okay."
As Alfred readies the IV, she moves aside so as not to interfere. Meanwhile, Bruce dissects the information he observed from her behaviors with his unparalleled detective skills. What he's seen so far makes him feel a little less worried he might have made the wrong call in trusting her. Nothing she has done causes an obvious need for concern. In fact, not only does her concern seem genuine to him, but she is treating Dick with a level of compassion that is notable, admirable even. He also takes note of her calm demeanor in this intensely emotionally distressing situation, showing him she is in possession of a marked amount of experience as well. And, despite her best efforts to hide it, her well-contained distress tells him she cares about Dick enough to focus her efforts on doing what she can to help him instead of allowing it to take control. All good signs.
Once the IV is connected and Alfred administers medication to ease Dick's pain, Galatea expeditiously moves down to his waist to work on removing the wound packing. As she peels back the bandages, the iron-laden stench of blood is released into the air, filling her nostrils. The smell is an unwelcome familiarity for her, but there is something else lingering amidst that heavy smell that sets it apart from her memory. Something slightly sweet and soft lies deep in the sickening smell, keeping her strangely grounded. In an attempt to keep her in the reality of the moment, she steals a glance at Dick's face again. His expression softened a bit while she was working and the lines of visible agony are now smooth, but the color of his skin still concerns her.
Good, the medicine is working. Now for the hard part.
She moves with careful urgency to finish the unwrapping of his wound, the fabric of the bandages heavy with the weight of blood. This does not go unnoticed by her, in fact it threatens to overcome her brief moment of optimism. Wary from the state of them, she braces herself for what lies beneath those last scraps of fabric. To her surprise, however, it is not as bad as she expects it to be. Once the pressure of the bandages is removed there is much less expression of blood than anticipated, and his organs are in surprisingly good shape. Her optimism returns to her.
The stone did its job, also good.
In the center of his wound it sits there, its dim glowing revealed once the bandages are fully removed. It throbs in time with his heart beat, sending tendrils of warm light into his recovering tissue. With it now exposed, it is apparent that the soft smell from before is coming from the stone: a sort of powdery, gently floral scent.
The tissue is healing up well enough but he's definitely going to need blood. And it'll be better if we can stop the rest of this bleeding first.
Galatea turns to Bruce with a look of determination.
"Bruce, I need you to hold him down while I cauterize his wound. Most of his internal bleeding has subsided but he's still losing a lot of blood. After I stem the bleeding, he's going to need a transfusion. Alfred, that's where you come in. Once his wound is closed you have to get that blood into his system. Then, I will work on repairing the rest of his damage from the inside. Everyone clear on their roles?"
Bruce and Alfred nod in agreement, both of which are impressed by the brevity she possesses in the wake of the situation. She seems to work with experience; Alfred can't help but observe the familiar expertise of a combat medic in her movement. Bruce, on the other hand, can't help but wonder how exactly it is that she has so much knowledge and experience in this kind of situation. Did it come from her past with the Sons of the Stag, or from her life thereafter, he wonders. Regardless of where it came from, he feels an admiration for her dedication and confidence. Galatea catches the expression on Bruce's face and mistakes his thoughtfulness for worry. Seeking to console him she places a reassuring hand on one of his gloved ones; an action Bruce finds remarkable in this moment of crisis.
"He's going to make it, I'll make sure of it. We're not going to lose him today."
She pulls her hand back and a quick flash of light sanitizes the surface of both her hands. She then places them on either side of the wound on his abdomen and looks over at Bruce again.
"Are you ready?"
"Do what you must."
He gives a curt nod with his reply, steadying Dick's arms against the gurney. Wasting not a single moment of precious time, Galatea cauterizes the open wound the moment Bruce is at the ready. The sickening smell of burnt flesh quickly replaces the scent of iron, filling the surrounding air like a cloud of exhaust. Reflexively, Alfred reaches up to cover his nose and mouth with a handkerchief in an attempt to suppress the triggering gag reflex in his throat. Bruce and Galatea, however, seem almost alarmingly unbothered by it. It's a good thing, too, because Dick is thrashing against that searing sensation and it requires all of their willpower to make sure his wound is successfully closed despite it. If that wasn't bad enough, they must also cope with the sound of him screaming out in agony. His pained howling is almost too much for the two of them to bear, a sound that makes Galatea feel more sick than the smell in the air ever could. It only lasts for a few moments before he totally loses consciousness, but it's long enough to shake her to her core. With the wound successfully closed, she removes her hands from him and wipes the sweat from her brow into the shoulder of her sleeve. She turns and calls out to Alfred.
"Alfred, we're ready for that blood transfusion."
"Right away Mistress."
Next she turns to Bruce and addresses him with a gentler, less commanding tone.
"Thank you Bruce, I know that wasn't easy. Are you able to give Alfred a hand with the transfusion?"
Bruce looks back at her with an injured expression, but nods in affirmation. It is clear to her that Dick's scream shook him more than it did her. It seems to her, knowing he was in some way responsible for causing Dick pain, is breaking a part of him that was holding him together.
You probably blame yourself for this, don't you, Bruce? I'm sorry. This is the most I can do for you right now.
Despite her confident exterior, Galatea battles her own mounting anxiety within. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as she fights against the worry edging near the surface of her consciousness. Seeing Bruce, a pillar of emotional regulation, rattled makes her lose her footing a bit. She reminds herself of the need to keep her head clear. There is no time to worry, only time for action. Dick's fate is in my hands; I have to be strong. She swallows hard and quiets her mind, before moving both of her hands over his abdomen and getting to work on healing his damaged cells. You can do this.
"I've got you, Dick. Just hang in there for me okay?"
With the deft fingerwork of a harpist, Galatea gets to work on healing the damage within. Silvery threads of light extend out through her fingertips as they artfully dance across the surface of his skin, knitting together the muscle tissue beneath its surface. She has healed many wounds before, but none as extreme as this one and it feels different. The map of him that flashed before her eyes, is so clear to her now. The darkness around his wound looks different to her, more tangible and less horrifying. She can feel the progress she's making, but something isn't quite right. Even though his wounds are healing and his body is recovering, somehow it still feels like she's losing him. That's when she hears the faint sound of tiny wingbeats and smells the scent of incense in the distance. Concerned, she looks between Bruce and Alfred to see how they are reacting to these oddities. Their focus remains on her work and Dick's condition, meaning she is the only one who seems to notice them. Not good. If I'm the only one who can hear that, it's most likely…She bites her lip as she recognizes what those sounds are a portent of. Hermes. The threat of his presence drives her to pour more of her energy into healing the damage within Dick's abdomen, focusing all her strength into saving him.
"Don't give up Dick," she urges him, "you have to fight. I don't…I don't want to lose you."
With only the ability to watch, Alfred and Bruce can't take their eyes off of the scene before then. Threads of silvery light extend from her fingertips in waves like the undulations of an aurora. It would be a beautiful spectacle if there wasn't a life hanging in the balance. Sweat drips down Galatea's face as she focuses all her energy on healing the damage from Dick's wound. Her eyebrows are knotted together with the strain of her efforts. Then suddenly she stops, the light fading from her eyes and her hands, and looks down at him.
"There," she says with an exasperated breath, "all of the damage has been repaired. The rest is up to him."
Despite his wound being healed, and the blood transfusion completed, his face still seems oddly pallor.
"Something's not right," Bruce says, "there's no color in his skin."
Overcome with emotion, he grabs a hold of Galatea's collar, pulling her up off the ground and over Dick's unconscious body. Suddenly, he regrets trusting with her with Dick's care, feeling as though he must have misread her and she might have just killed one of the only people he cares about.
"You lied to me," he spits at her, "you said he would be okay."
She looks at him with compassionate eyes and places her hand gently on his.
"I don't want to lose him either," she says quietly. "I don't understand why he's still unconscious; physically, he is okay."
He loosens his grip on her, releasing her collar.
"Sorry I-Isn't there something we can do?"
Something must be pulling him to the other side. Was I too late?
The smell of incense grows stronger and a figure appears behind Dick's head. Hermes, the messenger god has appeared to guide a spirit to the afterlife. She frantically looks between him and Dick, and then back at Bruce, desperately searching for a solution that could save him in time.
Think, dammit! All that reading and all that knowledge at your fingertips…there has to be something you can use.
As her brain shuffles through the archive of her memories, she recalls a ritual she had read about before. It's a dangerous ritual that allows for the exchange of spirit energy, and it would also tie her to Dick forever. Still, it's a viable option, and she has little regard for her own fate.
"I have an idea, but it's incredibly risky. If his problem isn't physical, it's likely spiritual. He has come too close to death. I think I can save him if I share some of my own energy, but you should know, as I said, it is not without risk."
"What kind of risk?"
"Well, I'm only recommending it because I don't think we have any other options. The ritual is dangerous and is usually performed when both parties are conscious and willing participants. Honestly, once the pathway is open between us I'm not sure what will happen. He could take me with him and we could both be lost, I could give him too much and be lost myself; anything is possible. But," she trails off for a moment, looking wistfully at Dick's face, "I owe you both my life. It is not a difficult choice for me, but Dick won't have a say in this. And if I do this, he and I will be connected forever. I don't want to make this kind of decision for him, but I don't see any other option. What do you think, Bruce?"
Galatea looks back at Bruce, searching for an answer. He is conflicted. His face shows a look of utter desperation, the expression of someone afraid to lose someone they care about. Then he shows resolution; there is only one thing that matters now.
"Please, save him."
"Understood. I'll bring him back Bruce, I promise." Her brow furrows after a moment passes and she begins talking again. "And Bruce? If I don't make it back, tell him I said thank you for everything; thank him for being my friend."
"You can tell him yourself, when this is over."
She smiles a reluctant smile at him
"Oh, and one more thing. Whatever happens, don't move either of us until Dick wakes up, just to be safe."
She turns back towards Dick and dons a look of staunch determination. Then it begins. Her eyes glow again with that soft light as she speaks words in a language Bruce cannot recognize. A knot forms in Bruce's stomach, but his face remains as stoic as ever. Magic always makes him uneasy, and this time Dick's fate hangs in the balance. But what choice does he really have? The alternative choice, losing Dick, is no choice at all.
"I bind myself to thee," she says in English, "as two celestial bodies become one, ever-fixed, ever bound. As the moon and the Earth remain intertwined, so shall we be."
Bruce and Alfred can do naught but watch as the strange ritual commences. The strangeness of her words makes Bruce wonder what exactly he just agreed to. It's too late to change his decision now, and he's not even sure he would were he given the option. They watch as Galatea leans forward and places her lips on Dick's, surprising them both. A tangible bead of light travels up her throat until it becomes a blinding flash of light as it passes her lips. Bruce and Alfred's vision go white as they reflexively shield their eyes from it. Slowly their vision recovers as the light fades away, revealing Galatea collapsed on top of Dick's unconscious body. It is eerily quiet in the Batcave in the moments following; the only notable sound is that of the medical monitors echoing out.
Bruce's intense gaze stays fixed on the two of them, looking, hoping, for any changes. After a few painfully long moments, he observes the color returning to Dick's face. Then the heart monitor's beeping begins to ring out stronger and clearer; Dick's heart is functioning normally again. Life has finally returned to his unconscious body. Bruce and Alfred exchange a look of relief, and a noticeable amount of tension seems to leave their bodies. The sound of Dick's voice pulls their attention back to him, hearing him mutter the word "no". Silent tears stream out of the corners of his eyes down the sides of his face, and suddenly their tension is back.
Abruptly, his eyes pull open and he sits up, sucking in a large breath of air as if it is his first. Galatea's body falls into his lap with his sudden movement. He looks as though he woke from a nightmare: mildly disoriented and breathing rapidly to catch his breath. In a rare show of affection, Bruce hugs the disoriented boy, overcome with a sense of relief.