Safe (BatBoys)

Coddling

Cora pov:

Not long after Jasey left, Dami strolls through the doors. I'm really tired but I'm still happy to see him. I'm always happy to see him.

"Hello, Beloved. Where's Todd?" He asks, noticing the absence. 

"He took Timmy up to bed. What took you so long?" I question loosely as he sits back down beside me.

"I brought your stuff back up to your room. I noticed your books and pillow were not there." He explains.

"Is there ever going to be a time when you're not observing me?" I ask rhetorically. Something I don't recognize flashes across his features.

"Are my observations a bad thing?" He questions loosely. his voice sounds steady and relaxed enough, but his face shows the slightest bit of concern.

"Of course not. I actually think it's sweet. I just wonder if you do that because of habit or nerves." I speak transparently. He seems to ponder that for himself.

"Mostly habit, though I suppose I've been a little 'on edge' as Grayson says." He replies, I hear the exhaustion in his tone. My brows furrow.

"Alright then, is there something specific that has you tense?" I ask. He runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes.

"My girlfriend was kidnapped twice and then tortured. She seems fine most of the time but it doesn't take the world's greatest detective to understand that she's not. I don't want to push her or coddle her, but I think I'll always be worried." He says, speaking about me in the 3rd person.

I consider his words for a moment, a long moment. I know I'm not okay, but other than slipping a few times, I can't help but feel alright. It's like, I can understand that it happened, but it doesn't seem completely real. Hearing that he's worried about me makes me want to prove that I'm completely fine, but I don't think that would help him.

"Well, I think she doesn't want you to worry. She's been self-sufficient and relatively isolated for the past few years. Having people worry like that probably isn't something she's used to on an instinctual level. Maybe she needs that push." I say, feeling weird about referring to myself in the 3rd person. 

Damian looks at me, his hand still in his hair and the conflicted look on his face cemented there. I look back at him with a tired smile. I still don't understand why I'm so exhausted. All I did was sit and lay down all day. 

"You think that's it?" He asks quietly.

"I'm not a therapist but that's my best guest. It's, um, been on my mind a lot lately." I say sheepishly.

"It makes enough sense. But do you actually feel okay or do you just say that?" He asks carefully.

"I feel okay, but also like it didn't happen. I know that it did, and that it was bad, but I'm not vividly remembering it whenever I talk about it. Maybe I'm not feeling it so I don't have to lie to people and myself?" I explain the best that I can.

Dami goes silent. He lifts his head and searches my face and my posture. His green eyes are calculating and scrutinizing. I look right back at him, wondering what is going through his head.

"The brain protects itself by blocking out painful memories. I believe the medical term is Repression. It can be accompanied by Derealization, the feeling of being separate from yourself. Am I close?" He questions.

I blink at him in shock. Am I repressing my memories? Is that a bad thing? Do I feel separate from myself? I don't think so. I am me and this is who I am. 

"I'm not sure about Derealization but you might be right about the Repression. Where did you even learn that?" I ask, my mind still reeling.

"I did some research. I couldn't sleep." He admits. I smile sadly at him.