Nightwing: Heartless

Part 61: Awake

Willa's eyes were heavy, hard to open, and she had to squeeze them shut from the sudden burst of light when she did open them. It was so bright. Where was all the light coming from? She could see it even with her eyelids closed. She tried to remember what happened... the knife, her wrist, the roof, falling... but that had been a trick of Psimon, right? She flexed her fingers and toes, yes it had to have been a trick, she was alive.

She caught her breath as she tried to move her wrist. It wouldn't bend, was it a splint? A cast? But then she had broken her wrist... her head hurt. Willa slowly blinked her eyes open again, only one of them opening fully. It looked like she was in... a hospital? She was lying in a hospital bed, in a hospital gown. Machines beeped around her and an IV was in her arm. Her gaze settled on the man standing across from her bed.

He met her eyes and she flinched back before realizing it wasn't Deathstroke. Deathstroke never wore suits, and it wasn't the same face. She cautiously looked back and took in the hesitation in his face, the flicker of sympathy in his eyes. What was Bruce Wayne doing in her hospital room? She tensed as he stepped closer, to the side of her bed.

"You're safe now," he said, his voice low, void of emotion.

Willa swallowed and looked away. This wasn't right. If last night was one of Psimon's hallucinations, this was too. It was another trick to get her to say a name. Her mind put Bruce Wayne in front of her, to make her feel safe, to feel like it was over, when it was really Deathstroke in front of her, waiting for her to recognize Batman.

"No." Her voice was hoarse, the sound hurting her vocal chords. "You're not real."

"I am. Willa, you need to know you're safe. It's-"

"No, no, no, it won't work," she pressed her hands to her head, trying to squeeze Psimon out, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know-"

She felt his presence get closer, "what don't you know?"

"You can't- won't work- get out of my head!"

"Willa, please look at me," a sliver of emotion entered his voice but Willa wouldn't fall for it.

"Out of my head, out of my head, out of my head, get out, get out, get out," she started hitting her head with her fist.

Hands covered her own. Fake Bruce's. "Willa, stop. You'll hurt yourself."

He closed his hand over her wrists, pulling her hands away from her head but it made it worse. They weren't hands, they were the ever present chains around her wrists, she knew they were there. They were always there. She tried to pull her wrists away, feeling the air get thinner. How much longer could she do this? Fight her way out of every illusion, trapped in her own mind, the people she loved hurting her.

Her breath came faster as the air got thinner until she was gasping, "let me go, let me go, let me go!" She struggled in earnest, gasping for breath against the infinitely stronger hands on her. They were crushing her, pulling all the air out of the room.

She heard more footsteps, felt more people around her, more hands on her, pushing her down. She flailed her limbs, crying, trying to break their hold, yelling incoherently but it didn't work. It never worked. Her arms got heavier, weighing down until she was flat on the bed, losing consciousness. No, no, no, not this, not the serum. She hadn't felt the pinch of a needle but maybe Psimon wanted it to be a surprise.

"Please, don't," she sobbed, clutching a hand, "kill me instead..." she mumbled before losing consciousness.

**
Willa couldn't move, couldn't even open her eyes. Was she even awake? There were people in the room, their voices muffled. They came into focus slowly.