Work Text:
The explosion blew all three of them backwards.
Starfire shielded herself with a wall of starbolt energy, hastily thrown up in front of her arms, dazzling green against the angry orange and yellow of the fireball. Just behind her, Nightwing grunted, snapping back from the kinetic force and sailing several yards further behind her as she smashed up against the industrial steel pipes, the metal folding underneath her.
Batman had been on her other side and flew straight into the wall with a horrible crunch.
Her ears rang for several long moments. Her back felt like fire, pain radiating through her. Her head clanged with reverberations from the shock, the sharp throbbing slowly, slowly beginning to fade as her hearing cleared.
Starfire hissed sharply as she disentangled from the piping. Balancing awkwardly on her feet, she blinked, shaking her head, folding to her knees as her head pounded.
Fire plumed from the center of the warehouse, belching thick black smoke. The bank of computers that had formerly been there, clustered together like some kind of make-shift office space, were now completely obliterated, sparks popping from the melted remains.
Booby-trapped. She could see the thin line of the light-sensors now, faint white in the smoke.
Nightwing groaned softly behind her. Starfire darted a concerned look over her shoulder, then winced as the sudden motion made her neck twinge. Pressing a hand at the base, she turned more slowly to face towards him as he struggled up to his hands and knees, looking dazed.
"Star...?" came his confused call.
She nodded, even though he was looking straight towards the floor, blinking. "I am here," she assured him, shifting over.
She was reaching to put a hand on his shoulder when harsh coughing came from their right. Both young adults turned to see Batman, flat on his back, his coughs so violent they raised his chest from the floor.
Nightwing froze, a mute, wide-eyed expression on his paling face.
The Dark Knight's body continued to spasm, and Starfire felt her concern and worry growing, slowly beginning to rise to her feet.
Nightwing did not move, frozen in abject horror. "Bruce?" came his voice, trembling and strained, completely forgetting himself and where they were.
He suddenly snapped into motion, springing up and throwing himself towards his mentor's body.
"Bruce!" he cried shrilly.
Starfire staggered upright and stumbled over to them. Batman's gaze was straight up, unfocused; it sounded like he was trying to speak but all that came out was horribly wet gargles.
Dark red was dribbling from the side of his mouth.
She bit her lip. She was still learning about human physiology but bleeding from the mouth was a universally bad sign.
Pain flared straight through her leg up her spine to her head as she took her next step, and Starfire momentarily buckled back down to her knees.
As was that, usually.
Shaking it off, Starfire forced herself back upright. Nightwing was hovering frantically over Batman, both hands desperately staunching a wound with debris still lodged in it, his expression more horrified and frightened than she'd ever seen. The blood was now beginning to seep out from under the Dark Knight's back.
"No no no no, c'mon..." she heard Nightwing whispering, pressing harder.
Starfire found her communicator and flipped it open. "Cyborg, come in," she said into it.
"I'm here," he promised. "Vitals monitors on the Batsuit are blaring red, what happened?"
"There was an explosion," Starfire summarized, tucking the communicator between her shoulder and chin, firmly pushing Nightwing to the side with her arm so she could slide her hands under the man's back. "We are returning to the cave for an immediate medical evacuation. Please inform the others and tell Alfred to have a transfusion ready in the event one is needed."
"Damn..." Cyborg breathed, the clacking of keys indicating he was still stationed at the Bat-Computer. "BB! Get Raven down here!" she heard him call.
Starfire ached and her back twinged as she lifted the Dark Knight, but the man was still feather-light to her alien strength. She grappled with limbs and the communicator several moments in frustration before managing to stow it, then barked back at Nightwing, who was standing at her shoulder still paralyzed.
"I will need you to open the door."
He startled to attention with a flinch. "What? Oh, y-yeah, I got it," he said, pushing past her quickly to shove open the warehouse door, sliding it with a squeal on its track.
Raven met them before they had taken more than a few steps outside into the cold night air.
Starfire's face crumpled a little bit. "Raven, you should conserve your strength for—" she started to complain.
"I'm fine," Raven cut her off insistently. "Crowd close."
Starfire shifted the wounded man in her grip to free an arm and grab Nightwing's wrist, pulling him, trembling, into the circle. She leaned in even closer to whisper in Raven's ear.
"You will prioritize the Batman. My injuries can wait," she ordered firmly.
Raven gave a silent nod and raised her hands to sweep black energy all around them.
-TT-
Things were... a haze.
Beast Boy's shrill freakout as the dark matter lifted from around them was white noise for him. A tinny ring continued to echo through his ears.
Nightwing somehow found a seat and sank into it numbly, eyes fixated across the room at the hospital bed they used for emergencies and first aid, the glimpses of his mentor he could see flashing around Alfred and Raven's arms and backs as they shooed everyone else away.
The bloodied batsuit was peeled off, or cut away when needed, tossed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Nightwing felt something sick rising up his throat at the sight, and squeezed his eyes closed, clenching his fists.
He breathed heavily, his chest feeling like it was constricting with every breath.
Get it together, he told himself. Get it together this isn't... isn't helping.
He bit his lip sharply, feeling a tremble in every part of his body. He peeked up towards the bed and immediately regretted it, seeing Raven's glowing hands pressed to his mentor's—his father's—bleeding chest and crumpling inwards with shaking gasp. His fisted hands pressed tightly against his temples.
He couldn't... he shouldn't react like this. Not like a scared kid. He was nineteen, married, with a beautiful eight-month-old baby girl, a stable adult he'd thought, and yet in a moment all of that had been stripped away and he felt ten years old again, terrified and uncertain, reeling from the raw loss and grief that had drawn Bruce to him.
Please, he begged, not even knowing who he was directing the words toward. Please, I can't lose him too.
Somewhere in his spiraling he noticed that the gloves against his temples felt odd. There was a sticky, wet sensation in contact with his skin.
He pulled his hands down and saw with horror that they were bloodstained.
The tinny ring inside his head seemed to sharpen into a shrill whine and his stomach roiled over, uneasy.
He flung himself from the seat and lurched in three wide steps to the tube elevator access, the only thought echoing through him Get it off, get it off, get it off.
Somehow, he wasn't even sure how, his brain seemed to skip over the journey entirely, he found the nearest small-closet bathroom and grabbed for the sink edge, heaving.
Bile burned through his throat, his stomach emptying.
Dizzy, his mouth feeling grungy and sour, he took a slow breath, the sirens in his head dimming down. He stayed there clutching the porcelain with white-knuckle fingers a moment.
Then he fumbled for the faucet, turning the water on hot full blast.
-TT-
Starfire limped through the parlor and into the hall, searching. Spotting the light from the open door to the bathroom she paused, collecting herself.
Everything still hurt. Her back and head ached. Pain was throbbing through her right leg. Her invulnerability had spared her grievous injury, but getting flung into metal pipework by a concussive blast was still a shock to any body, even an alien one.
She inhaled slowly. No pain. No fear. Smile.
She stepped into the room. Her husband was bent over the sink, frantically scrubbing his gloves in the basin, which stained with red streams on the cream porcelain as the soap frothed and the water dripped down to the drain.
She reached out softly, her hand finding his back, slowly rubbing upwards.
The motions of his hands stilled briefly and he exhaled, already untensing at her touch.
Starfire reached in and calmly took the gloves from him, holding them under the stream to rinse them off. She set them aside on the counter and twisted the faucet off.
The hand on his back shifted to wrap around his shoulder as she moved close. Nightwing was shuddering, breaths shaky, and he wouldn't look at her.
Gently but firmly she put a finger under his chin and turned his face towards her.
The gaunt fear lining his face sent a pang through her heart. She cupped both his cheeks warmly. "It will be all right," she whispered.
A small sob escaped him, and his face squeezed tight. "My f-fault..." he strained. "I should've seen the triplight, I should've—"
"Don't," she told him firmly. She guided him back, using tempered alien strength to make him sit down on the lidded toilet. "You know that will not help. We should all have been more alert."
"But—"
"Robin," she interrupted, and that immediately stopped him, that tender, frustrated, intimate use of his old codename as if they were teens again. She watched Nightwing take a deep breath and force himself to begin calming down.
"Sorry," he said. "You're right."
She beamed softly, shifting closer, leaning down to embrace him.
The muscles of her back twinged harshly and she must have flinched, for now Nightwing was gaping straight at her in worry and panic.
"You're hurt!" he cried.
She bit back a low curse, quickly rearranging her features, shaking her head. "It is nothing, I promise."
He tried to rise, grabbing onto her arms.
"Why didn't you tell me?! We have to get Rave—"
She pushed him back down, firmly taking his head in her hands, fingers curling behind his ears, pressing her forehead against his.
"You are my first concern," she emphasized, voice fervent, tremulous. Her emerald eyes burned with fire, conviction hard on her features. "I have been hurt far, far worse. Please..." she begged softly, "...let me care for you."
Nightwing's agonized look dropped away into quiet acceptance, as he lowered his eyes. Starfire let her arms wrap around him, fingers tracing through his hair and wasn't surprised when he clutched her around her middle, gloveless hands pressing tight on the skin of her back.
"Shh..." she soothed him, pulling him even closer.
He shuddered against her and she held him for several long, quiet moments.
When she perceived he was collected enough she asked softly, "Do you need anything?"
He thought a moment.
"Let's... let's go out to the parlor. Please," he asked.
She nodded, letting go and stepping back and slipping her hand into his to help him to his feet.
-TT-
They waited in the parlor for another long half-hour. She held him, murmured assurances to him, fetched him a cup of tea upon his request. He was holding it in both hands, taking slow sips, and she was standing behind the couch rubbing his back when the grandfather clock panel moved aside, and the hidden elevator clunked to an almost-inaudible stop.
Both of them looked up as the doors swished open and Raven stepped out. She looked tired and a bit frazzled, lines under her eyes, but she flashed a faint reassuring smile and Starfire felt Nightwing straighten a bit to attention.
"He's going to pull through," she told them. "All he needs now is to rest."
Nightwing sagged into the plush seat, relief bleeding out of him. Starfire patted his shoulder, a silent See? I told you so.
"Thank you," Nightwing whispered to Raven.
She nodded, and then her violet eyes probed Starfire, who shook her head firmly. Raven's mouth flattened a little but she didn't argue.
"You should get some rest too," she said. "Both of you," she added pointedly for Starfire.
"We will," Starfire promised.
As Raven moved off, Starfire came around the couch and sank down next to her husband, her sore back and legs almost melting into the cushions. The low yellow light was soft on her tired eyes, and the cushions felt so comfortable, her pain radiating away the longer she sat.
She pulled Nightwing up against her and finally allowed herself a moment of peace.