Work Text:
June 13th
The floor of the safehouse medbay smelled like antiseptic and old concrete, a combination Damian had learned to associate with failure. Not defeat, he didn’t allow that word into his vocabulary, but failure in the ways that mattered. In the ways that left people bleeding and breathless.
Nika was awake when he walked in. A white bandage wrapped tight across her abdomen, lightly stained with red at the center. Connor had stabilized her, cleaned the wound, sealed the damage, dosed her with something strong enough to dull the pain but not strong enough to put her to sleep. Of course. Nika wouldn’t let herself sleep. Not yet. Not until someone forced her to.
When she saw him, her lips twitched upward. “Took you long enough.”
He didn’t answer right away.
He just stood at the edge of the room, boots planted, cape behind him, arms at his sides. His posture was too perfect, too controlled. Which meant he was furious.
Not at her. Not exactly.
“You should’ve dodged it,” Damian said finally, voice quiet. Not an accusation, but something sharper. Worry, poorly disguised.
“I did,” she said. Then shrugged with the shoulder that didn’t hurt. “Just not fast enough.”
“You took a bullet for Rose.”
“She would’ve done the same.”
“You’re not supposed to do that.”
“That’s how teamwork works, Damian.”
He didn’t like that answer. She could tell by the way his jaw flexed, just once, before locking into place again. For a moment, he didn’t move. Just stared at her like she was something impossible to process. And maybe she was. Nika knew what she’d done was reckless. She also knew she’d do it again. She wasn’t like him, not entirely. But she was close enough to understand that what terrified him most wasn’t injury… It was loss. Her loss.
The mission in Bangkok had gone sideways in the final minutes. Rose had charged too far ahead. One of the gunmen had gotten off a clean shot. Nika had moved without thinking. She didn’t even remember making the decision, only the heat of the bullet, the way her legs folded under her.
Damian finished the mission with surgical precision. Cleaned the field and neutralized the final threat. And now here he was, standing like a statue at the edge of her room, unwilling to sit, unwilling to speak more than the bare minimum, as if talking would unravel him completely.
She shifted her legs over the side of the cot slowly. “You gonna stand there forever?”
He didn’t answer. But he did walk forward.
Not all the way, just a few steps closer, until the tension between them wasn’t metaphorical anymore. Until it was real and tight and hanging between their shoulders like a wire pulled too taut. His hands were still closed. She wondered if they were shaking. Probably not. Damian Wayne didn’t shake. But something about him looked wrong.
She tilted her head. “Are you okay?”
A ridiculous question, maybe, considering she was the one bleeding. But his expression, no, his silence, said more than most people ever could.
“I told you,” she added gently. “I’m fine. No major organs hit. No heroic deaths today.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
He didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his tactical belt and pulled out something small. It was wrapped in black cloth, typical of him. Nika almost rolled her eyes. Efficient. Except it clearly wasn’t. Not when he held it out toward her with a motion so careful it made her breath catch.
She unwrapped it slowly.
It was candy. Her favorite, imported from Japan, some ridiculous sugar-and-chili-coated fruit strips she had once gushed about during a grocery run in Lisbon. Nika hadn’t thought he was listening. She hadn’t thought he’d remembered. He shouldn’t have remembered. But here it was, now, in her lap, offered like a peace treaty.
Nika looked up, eyebrows raised. “You brought me candy?”
He didn’t look at her, just nodded once.
She wanted to laugh, or cry, or lean forward and rest her head against his chest. But instead, she settled for unwrapping a piece and popping it in her mouth, chewing slowly, eyes still fixed on him.
“You know,” Nika said around the candy, “most people say ‘I’m glad you’re alive’ in these situations.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No, you’re not.” Her voice softened. “But you are allowed to care.”
Damian looked at her again, the edges of his cheeks tinged pink, barely visible beneath the mask.
“I do,” he said after a pause. “Care.”
It wasn’t a whisper. It wasn’t broken. It was simple like a fact. Like he was forcing himself to admit it aloud because denying it hadn’t worked. And suddenly, Nika wasn’t sure what to say. She’d teased him before, pushed his buttons, drawn out his edges with banter and recklessness and charm… but this was something else. This was Damian pulling open the armor, just a crack, just long enough to show her the heat underneath.
“I know,” Nika smiled. “Even when you don’t say it.”
He nodded.
She leaned back slightly, brushing her fingers over the edge of the candy packet. “Well. You bringing this? It’s basically a love letter!”
“I don’t write love letters.”
“I know.” Her lips curled. “You hand-deliver emotional grenades disguised as snacks.”
Something flickered at the corner of his mouth. Almost a smile. Or maybe just the idea of one.
Then, without warning, he turned to leave.
“Damian...”
He paused at the door.
She wanted to ask him to stay. But she didn’t. That wasn’t how they worked. Instead, she let him go, let him get all the way to the threshold before she said quietly, “Thank you for this…”
He half turned his head.
He didn’t say you’re welcome. He just said, for the first time, with no hesitation:
“I’m glad you’re alive, Nika.”
Her name.
Not Flatline. Not ‘idiot.’ Not a nickname dressed in mockery or distance. Just her name. Like it meant something…
And then he was gone, cape sweeping behind him as he disappeared down the hallway like he hadn’t just ruined her entire emotional equilibrium with two syllables and a sugar packet.
Nika sat there for a long time, staring at the door, fingers still curled around the wrapper.
When Rose peeked in a few minutes later to check on her, she found Nika smiling. A little too wide.
“What the hell are you grinning about?” Rose asked.
Nika's eyes flicked toward the door again, and she shrugged. “Nothing. Just... bleeding and eating candy. You know. Normal Wednesday.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “You’re a freak.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Still Rose said, “Glad you’re not dead. Thank you for saving me.”
Nika smiled silly. “Me too.”
But when the door closed again, she let herself smile for real this time. The kind of smile no one was supposed to see.
Damian Wayne had brought her candy.
She would’ve preferred a kiss…
But candy from him? That was as close as she’d ever get.