Chapter Text
Alyssa had once again convinced you to spend your recovery day doing the exact opposite of recovering. This time she’d invited you along to the evening Garden market with Thalia and Eva.
The market stretched across most of Robinson Park, winding between trees wrapped in fairy lights and rows of white tents. The smell of coffee, pastries and street food seemed to drift from every direction at once while live music floated across the grass from a small stage near the fountain. It was crowded without feeling suffocating, groups of people wandered between stalls, dogs trotted happily with their owners and at one of the shops a child was losing an argument with her mom about buying a giant stuffed shark.
You held a paper bag while the four of you drifted between stalls.
Earlier, a sweet older woman had charmed all of you into buying the best pastries you ever had.
Alyssa had tried a sample and basically moaned.
“I’m serious,” she said around a mouthful of croissant while looking at a ring display. “If she asks me to marry her, I’m saying yes.”
“She was at least sixty,” Eva said.
“Was she?” you asked.
You had been thinking in the fifties.
“Absolutely.”
Alyssa pointed her pastry at Eva, “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it matters a little,” you pointed out.
“Think about the food,” Alyssa gestured with her croissant. “Plus, I think she’d love me right.”
“Girl,” Thalia deadpanned. “You can’t build a marriage on food.”
“Watch me.”
Eva groaned and pulled you with her to walk ahead before Alyssa could continue her rambles.
The band on stage finished their set and a different artist came and started playing.
Your phone buzzed and you pulled it from your pocket; it was a notification from Gotham Watch.
Babyface gang attempting robbery near East End.
Your brows furrowed, “What kind of name is Babyface gang?”
Thalia, who was also looking at the notification on her phone, laughed, “The ringleader has a weirdly unproportionally baby-like face.”
“Oh, is the gang like dangerous?”
Thalia shrugged, “Eh.”
Buzz.
Babyface gang stopped by Batman
“That was quick.”
You scrolled through the comments.
Awwww, I was kinda rooting for them this time.
Maybe should reconsider careers?
Were they put in time out too?
The last one made you laugh before pocketing your phone and catching up with the others.
A few stalls later you found yourselves enamoured by a t-shirt booth. There were so many ridiculous shirts about so many different topics, the four of you couldn’t stop giggling or gasping as you pulled out different shirts.
Eva pulled out and showcased a black shirt with a collage of Batman and Superman that made them look like they were together with lots of hearts and pink around them.
It earned multiple oohs and ahhs from the group.
“Oh, this is just cheesy,” Alyssa rolled her eyes as she showed a shirt that read:
WELCOME TO GOTHAM
(Don’t drink the tap water)
You blinked, “Why not?”
“Do you drink tap water?” Alyssa asked slowly.
“Yeah?”
All three of them paused and turned to look at you slowly.
They stared at you with the same expression you’d give someone who admitted to fishing toast out of a toaster with a metal knife.
“What?”
“How long have you been drinking the tap water?”
“Why?”
“How long?”
“I don’t know, since I got here?”
Eva gasped, “don’t do that anymore.”
“Is it bad for your stomach or something?”
“No Scarecrow puts fear gas in that,” Thalia informed you. "Fairly often actually."
Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open, you looked between the three of them.
“You’re fucking with me.”
“I wish we were,” Alyssa said, putting the shirt back. “But we’re not. Buy bottled water.”
“Yeah, you can refill it for cheap,” Eva added already looking through the rack of shirts.
You were still rooted to your spot. You had heard about Scarecrow before, but you didn’t think it was that common of an issue.
Oh well. Guess that's Gotham for you.
You shook off the shock and start looking through the shirts again. You spotted one halfway through a rack and immediately burst out laughing.
Thalia peaked around a rack, “Oh no.”
“What?” Alyssa asked.
You held it up.
A collage of Bruce Wayne’s most infamous paparazzi photos stared back at them.
Drunk Bruce.
Yacht Bruce.
Dancing on a bar Bruce.
Somebody had added pink bows to a few of them.
Across the top, in pink glitter lettering: GOTHAM’S PRINCESS
Alyssa made a sound that was somewhere between a shriek and a laugh.
“Please buy that.”
“No.”
"Please."
“Isn’t it kinda mean?”
“He’s a billionaire!”
“Still!”
“He’ll live,” Eva laughed and pushed you toward the main table, “It’s not like he or anyone he knows will ever see you wear it. Get it.”
You caved and pulled your phone while handing it to the guy that ran the stall. As he folded it into a paper bag, your phone buzzed.
You glanced down.
Emergency Services responding to an incident in Downtown.
Your smile faded slightly, “that doesn’t look good.”
Eva leaned over your shoulder, “could be anything.”
“Fair point.”
You tapped your phone on the card machine.
The shirt was (more than) slightly overpriced, but that was a problem for future you.
Present you had a scandalous Bruce Wayne shirt to enjoy.
Thalia disappeared into a book stall; you considered following her before remembering you still had to buy groceries for the rest of the month.
Instead, you claimed a nearby bench.
Alyssa dropped down beside you with a dramatic sigh, “my feet hurt.”
Eva joined a second later.
“If I buy one more thing, my card is going to start crying.”
“Too late for mine,” Alyssa admitted.
Your phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again
This time your stomach dropped.
Explosion confirmed at Castleland Mall.
“Oh.”
Alyssa leaned over, “What?”
You opened the notification and the three of you read the incredibly brief report together.
Thalia appeared a moment later, book in hand, “What’s going on?”
“Explosion at Castleland,” Alyssa said.
The discussion thread was updating almost faster than you could read.
My son works there. Has anyone heard anything?
Roads are being closed.
Holy ***
Was it another bomb?
“Another bomb?” you read aloud.
“Wasn't there one like a month ago?” Alyssa asked.
The four of you stare at the phone as the comments keep popping up.
“Yeah, but they arrested the guys who did it.” Eva glanced between the three of you.
“Could be unrelated?” Thalia offered.
A new update appeared.
Multiple injuries reported.
The knot in your stomach tightened.
You looked at Alyssa.
“Do you think…” you trailed off.
“Don’t.”
As if summoned by your question, your pager went off and then Alyssa’s.
The sound felt absurdly loud.
Alyssa stared at the screen for a second.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Thalia closed her eyes, “That’s not a good sign, is it?”
“Nope,” you were already standing. “We’ll call you later.”
Thalia took the shopping bags from both of your hands.
“If we’re still conscious,” Alyssa muttered.
Eva stepped forward and pulled both of you into a quick hug that Thalia joined in on.
“Good luck.”
“We love you guys.”
Then the two of you basically sprinted out of the market.
You drove.
Gotham’s traffic seemed blissfully unaware that somewhere across the city something had exploded.
Cars crawled through intersections.
People crossed roads carrying shopping bags.
Someone was hooted as a cyclist cut them off.
Beside you, Alyssa scrolled furiously switching between Gotham Watch and Google.
“Anything?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Not even what happened?”
“Nope.”
She refreshed the page again, “Why does no one ever just tell us what's happening.”
You tightened your grip on the steering wheel.
It was fine.
Nurses dealt with emergencies every day.
You dealt with emergencies every day.
Everything was fine.
“Maybe it won’t be that bad.”
Alyssa didn’t answer immediately, which unfortunately felt like enough of an answer.
Eventually she sighed, “It’s Saturday.”
“And?”
“Castleland has a cinema.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Oh.”
Neither of you said much after that.
The automatic doors slid open.
You barely had time to process any of it before Nurse Bell appeared, “there you two are.”
“Mass Casualty protocol's active," Nurse Bell said, shoving a clipboard into Alyssa's hands without slowing down. "Most criticals are upstairs. Burns, lacerations, fractures, everything else is coming in wave. Grab gloves and moves.”
Then she disappeared again.
You and Alyssa exchanged a look.
“Good luck.” You said with a nod.
“Likewise."
After that, there wasn’t really time to think.
The first patient assigned to you was a woman in her forties with burns across both hands and part of her lower legs.
She sat rigidly on the bed while a doctor assessed the worst areas.
You helped cut away what remained of her clothing around the injuries and gathered supplies while trying not to look at the raw angry skin.
“You’re doing great,” you told her gently.
The woman laughed once, it sounded more like a sob.
“My husband is going to kill me.”
“Why?”
“I made him stop for snacks at the shops,” she smiled weakly, “it's cheaper.”
Your chest tightened, “He is going to be more focused and happier that you are here now.”
The doctor asked another question and the conversation moved on.
Then someone else needed help.
And someone else.
Then another.
A man vomiting into an emesis bag.
An elderly man arguing with everyone who tried to treat him.
A little girl who asked for her mother so many times you didn't know how to respond anymore but tried your best to be kind.
At some point you found yourself sprinting to the supply room.
Half the shelves already looked raided.
You grabbed an armful of dressings, gloves and saline before rushing back out again.
However long later, a teenager ended up in your section. Glass glittered beneath the harsh hospital lights where several pieces remained embedded in his forearm.
A doctor worked on removing the larger fragments while you monitored him.
He kept looking to the automatic doors every time they opened.
“My phone’s gone,” he mumbled.
You looked up.
“Pardon?”
“My phone,” his voice cracked. “I can’t call my parents.”
He sucked in a breath.
“They probably think I’m dead.”
“I’m sure they don’t think that.”
“How would they know?”
For a second you didn't have an answer.
You glanced around the crowded department.
He was right, there was no way for them to actually know anything right now.
You reached over and squeezed his uninjured hand, “We’ll figure out something.”
Eventually you were able to find one of the admin staff that was able to help him contact his parents.
His shoulders dropped the second he heard his mom's voice.
You looked away and pretended to be busy with his chart.
After that, everything fell into a rhythm that you didn't have to think about: check vitals, inject, wrap, write, repeat.
At some point, one of the doctors asked you a question and you answered before you fully processed what he had said.
By the time you finally looked at a clock again, it was almost three in the morning.
The ER was still busy, but none of the faces were the same ones you'd seen at the start of the shift.
You didn’t check the time when you finally made it home.
At some point you had left the hospital.
At some point you vaguely remembered driving across town.
You remembered the blur of traffic lights.
A petrol station.
A song on the radio.
Everything after three in the morning felt smeared together.
The apartment was dark when you pushed through the front door.
Quiet too.
For a second, you simply stood there.
Your shoulders ached.
Your feet hurt.
You kicked off your shoes and hung your keys on the hook by the door.
Jason’s hook was empty, a small part of you registered that. Then stopped caring.
The hallway seemed longer than usual.
You didn’t bother turning on any lights.
Didn’t check your phone.
The news.
Didn’t check anything.
You made it to your room entirely on muscle memory.
Your clothes landed somewhere on the floor.
Your work badge followed.
You changed into an old shirt and clean underwear without really thinking about it.
You collapsed onto the mattress.
The cool sheets soothed the ache in your joints.
For one brief moment, your mind drifted back to the ER.
A part of you wanted to cry, but then even those thoughts slipped away.
You were asleep before you even knew you closed your eyes.
BZZZT BZZZZT BZZZZZT
You could’ve screamed.
When you’d checked your schedule earlier in the week, the eight-hour shift had felt merciful compared to your usual twelve.
The market would’ve been fine.
You would’ve gotten enough sleep.
In hindsight, that assumption had been slightly too optimistic.
With a groan, you slapped your phone until the alarm finally stopped and rolled onto your back.
09:00.
Your shift started at twelve.
The back of your eyeballs hurt, and a tension headache was forming. It wrapped around your skull like a thick headband.
Fantastic.
You dragged yourself out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.
Halfway through brushing your teeth, you found yourself opening Gotham Watch out of sheer morbid curiosity.
5 dead after Castleland cinema tragedy
You spat toothpaste into the sink and stood there a bit too long.
Suspected deliberate attack
Right. Of course.
You left the bathroom.
The kettle clicked on while you prepared what could generously be described as coffee. Several teaspoons of instant coffee. A scoop or two or three of hot chocolate. Enough caffeine and sugar to concern a medical professional.
Which was unfortunate, considering you were one.
Leaning against the counter, you waited for the water to boil.
Your eyes drifted toward the key hooks.
Jason’s keys hung beside yours.
Then lower.
His boots sat near the door, kicked off in a way that suggested he’d come home exhausted or in a rush.
Huh.
You looked down at your phone.
GCPD investigating possible links to previous Midtown bombing
The headband around your head tightened.
“Alright," you put your phone face down on the counter, "that’s enough screen time.”