capeandcowl2020 | Open Post 001

For Helena, winter was marked by her brother's return to the City and his sudden presence in their lives again, just as the thaw meant he would disappear again. It was something she'd become accustomed to, something she'd silently counted on once the weather began to turn cold and the leaves began to fall from the trees. And, in some ways, she was now accustomed to actually considering Damian her brother, though he continued to confuse and frustrate her half of the time. She was sure she'd never understand him the way she understood Dick. Perhaps Damian could say the same of her.

Now the temperature had dropped again, signaling that Damian would return, if he was still alive. There really wasn't an if; Helena knew he was equipped to survive and handle anything that was thrown his way. Still, something about his departure still left her feeling angry and unsettled, and she worried for him in spite of everything that had ever happened between them. He was still her brother, whether he wanted that role or not. Part of her would always be worried for him, just as part of him would be angry at him for leaving all together and another part would love him unconditionally.

As it was now, she set about making silent preparations for him. She was never sure just when he would arrive, only that he would, and that when he did he'd probably want a nice, welcoming bed waiting for him. This was something she did for him out of habit now, without Dick knowing, without telling Liam.

Damian had a place. All he had to do now was come and claim it.

As a precaution, he kept his activities within the city itself limited. It had enough protectors, and unless things skirted too close to those he held dear--places like Nill's orphanage--he tended to keep his nose out of things. Because he could do more on a world stage, save more lives. And part of him was still haunted by this place. But something about it was lodged in his mind. It was as close as it came to Gotham in this world. So some nights, he couldn't resist.

He had gotten sloppy, he reflected as he jumped over the rooftops, trench-coat/cape flapping behind him. He should have gone straight to Nill's, then left a note for Dick and left the city. Maybe he should never had come at all. But he had, and now he had to deal with it. He'd gotten wrapped up in trying to take out a government storehouse, and the security detail had caught up with him. Now he leapt through the city with a knife wound in his side.

He never made the conscious decision to go to Helena and Dick's place. It was as if a strand of home just pulled him there. He hesitated, at first; he didn't want to bring trouble down on them, and wanted even less to admit his weakness to them. But he had no choice. In the cold night air he pried open a window, and lowered himself in, stripping off his cowl and coat. And he collapsed in a heap on the ground, clutching his side as the blood pooled between his fingers.

"Damn it."

Quiet as he was, Damian's arrival was loud enough for Helena to hear from her room down the hall. It wasn't as if she'd been sleeping anyway, between her obligations to the City and Liam and Dick, she usually ran on an hour and a half a night.

Setting aside her reading, she first went to check the bedrooms (and on Liam especially), though she knew full well where the sound had come from. She could hear the labored breathing, the shallow pants of a man in pain, and instinctively she made her way to the bathroom to grab medical supplies and towels. She approached him cautiously, not wanting to alarm him in his already disheveled state. Certain he had heard her foot steps from behind, she dropped to her knees beside him, offering him a look that was meant to be reassuring, though she had no expectations that he would take it as such.

"Let me see."

He blinks his eyes open at the sound of her voice, though he'd noticed her presence before then. (His eyes never had been the pure blue of hers, or their father's. He'd always noticed that. They'd darkened, almost to black, as he'd gotten older.)

He rolled, over, one hand still over the wound. He had no intentions of dying from it, but it was still a bit embarrassed to lie bleeding on your alternate-timeline sister's rug.

"I don't know if you can take it. Too much blood." He tried for mocking, and ended up just sounding tired.

"It's okay. Just relax. Breathe." She shushed him, a sound meant to be more comforting than dismissive, towel at the ready to press to his wound. It was white, fresh, new, and it would be thrown away as soon as they were done with it. Such was the life of the towels and linens around this place.

Without prying at him too much, she tried to examine him, pale blue eyes flashing with concern. He was correct, he was losing a lot of blood, but Helena was sure she could at least get him stabilized and comfortable before she'd have to get additional help. First aid was never her favorite part of this lifestyle and more often than not it was Dick having to patch her up and not the other way around.

"What was it?" She finally asked, ignoring the way the crimson of his blood stained the stark white fabric. It was staining her hands too, but she would worry about that later. For now, she wanted to know how he'd been hurt, and with this mess before her she simply couldn't tell.

"Really? Because I was going to stop... breathing... " His voice trailed off, for a moment, before he picked up the conversation again. "...unless you reminded me not to."

He coughed, but didn't pull away from her. More than he wanted to admit, he was glad he wasn't having to stop the bleeding himself, stitch himself up. He'd been doing that all too often, lately.

"Security Guard. Routine raid." He paused, replaying the scene in his mind. There'd been three of them. He was on his way out, had taken out one with a bunch and the other with a Batarang. Then, before he knew it, there was a third at his side, holding a blade red with blood--his blood. "Too fast. Couldn't have been regular detail."

Helena nodded, taking his hand and using it to hold the towel in place while she forced the first aid kit open with shaking fingers. Loathe as she might be to admit it, it was reassuring to hear him try to maintain appearances. She was used to his snipes by now, and while his efforts tonight were gentle in comparison to what she knew he was capable of, she was glad for the easy way they fell back into their established roles. "Keep still, Damian. Hold it right there."

She was already planning to suit up and head out once he was patched up. There was no way she'd let those guys get away with this. She had a conspiratorial look on her face as she opened a bottle of antiseptic.

"Sorry."

He held down on the towel, rolling over again and bringing himself up to a seated position. His back was arched as he stared at the ceiling, not wanting to look at her.

"If you honestly think that chemical is going to pain me--" He winced, ruining the effect. "--then you don't know me at all."

She felt her face contort as his did, sympathy pain shooting through her, something she'd later deny if asked about. She didn't want to cause him pain, even if he possibly deserved it for all the crap he'd put her through in the past. Emotions were hard enough for her as it was, she didn't need him to complicate things.

"I know you're going to be just fine so long as you don't get an infection."

Carefully she began to clean the wound, hissing softly once she'd wiped away enough of the blood to get a clear view of the damage. He'd probably had worse, she figured, but it didn't look good. Luckily her hands were steadier now than they had been a moment earlier. The steadier she was, the cleaner and less permanent this little event would be.

Another towel would be needed, however. The one they were currently using was already spent.

"You want me to stitch it or do you want me to get Dick?"

"Of course I'm going to be fine." Pause, heavy breath. "You really think i could be taken out by a knife</i?" As far as Damian was concerned, he was immortal. He had to be, because his father's legacy was. And though his opinions on Helena had evolved over the years, he still couldn't leave it just to her. Or even to Grayson. "No," he hissed, in response to her question. "Don't get him."

"If you were, I'd be very disappointed." That was mostly a lie, and she was certain he knew as much. Still, she was content to let him run his mouth as much or as little as he wanted as long as he managed to keep himself still. "I'm not going to bury you. Not ever. Now hold still."

And that was the only warning he'd get. She wasn't the best when it came to stitching, but she'd do her best to minimize the scar (or at least make it look pretty.) Still, Helena hated being on the receiving end of such treatment and she was sure it was just as unpleasant for her brother.

Pain wasn't any great thing to Damian. He'd had his share of it, and now it was something dull and distant that he could step away from when he chose. He closed his eyes, briefly, his breathing slowing down considerably.

"How's the kid?"

"Liam is fine." There was an audible hint of pride in her voice, despite him being Dick's son and not hers. What exactly she was to the boy was technically up in the air. Something between an aunt and a mother, she assumed. Just the way she was something between a sister and a wife to Dick. It was never wise to dwell on titles in their relationships. Liam was Dick's, sure, but Helena loved him just as fiercely. There was no denying the maternal instinct that was now so closely associated with the boy.

Snorting softly between stitches, she added, "He's come out of his shell quite a bit. He might even be glad to see you."

"That would surprise me." Damian was still a child, in many ways. And one of those ways had come to the forefront when he'd learned about Grayson's new charge. It wasn't outright jealousy--he'd never been Dick's son--but there was caution, and coldness. Even a child--especially a child--could feel it. And Damian might have ruined things with this family member, as well.

Helena's expression became slightly reproachful as she finished up her stitching. Yes, Damian was still a child, wasn't he. He'd somehow managed to permanently maintain his role of baby brother despite growing older and taller and leaving home. Was he concerned with being replaced? With being forgotten? It was a legitimate worry, as far as she was concerned. The Bats had a terrible habit of sweeping the things they wanted to forget under the rug, never to be mentioned politely again. She couldn't help but wonder if Damian worried they would do that to him as well.

"All done," she said, appraising him with an arched brow. "I'll get some water so you can take a painkiller."

Open Post 001

hi

sistahhhh

brooooooo

;v;

/holds close

<3

precious babby :'(

best siblings

/rolls around in feelings

/rolls with

/purrs

reasons i should not tag at night - html !!

/snugs

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