Flaming wings don't fly(Jason Todd x OC)

Chapter 26: The shadows talk

Aubrey woke slowly, her body heavy with exhaustion. The fight to burn the waterkindle from her system had taken more out of her than she was willing to admit, and the lingering pain from the gunshot wound pulsed beneath her skin. Normally, her healing factor would've taken care of it by now, but the poison had slowed her recovery, leaving her feeling vulnerable in a way she hated. She shifted slightly in bed, grimacing at the dull ache radiating through her side.

She hadn't expected to still feel this weak.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and before she could respond, the door creaked open. Aubrey turned her head to see Damian standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable as always.

"You're awake," Damian said, his voice a flat statement rather than a question. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning her with a quick assessment, no doubt taking in the visible signs of her weakened state.

"Unfortunately," Aubrey muttered, managing a half-smile. She pushed herself up a little in bed, wincing at the effort. "What brings you here? I thought you'd be out terrorizing criminals with your father."

Damian's eyes flickered with a hint of amusement, but his expression remained stern. "Father is busy, and I was curious to see if you survived the night."

Aubrey chuckled, though it hurt more than she expected. "Barely. I think your brother was more concerned than I was."

Damian moved to sit on the edge of a nearby chair, his sharp gaze never leaving her. There was a tension between them—one that had always been there since they'd first crossed paths. He had his walls up, just like her, and though they rarely spoke, there was an unspoken understanding between them. They both carried the scars of the League.

"How bad is it?" Damian asked, his voice softer than before. It caught her off guard, his usual sharp tone replaced with something that almost resembled concern.

Aubrey sighed, leaning her head back against the pillows. "Bad enough. I didn't expect the waterkindle to do so much damage. It... slowed me down. More than I thought it would."

Damian's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching slightly. "Waterkindle isn't just poison. It's meant to suffocate your fire, extinguish it completely. If you hadn't fought it off, you wouldn't have made it."

"Thanks for the uplifting reminder," Aubrey said dryly, though there was no malice in her voice. She appreciated his bluntness more than he knew.

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet of the manor settling around them. Damian's presence wasn't comforting exactly, but it wasn't intrusive either. He had a way of making space without filling it.

"Do you ever think about it?" Damian asked suddenly, her voice quieter now, the weight of the question hanging between them. "The League, I mean. All the things we did, the things they taught us."

Damian's face remained impassive, but Aubrey saw the flicker of something in his eyes. "Every day," she admitted. "It's always there. The training, the expectations... the blood on my hands."

Damian nodded, feeling the weight of her words as they settled in the room. She knew what he meant—knew the way the League shaped you, twisted you into something sharp and unrelenting. She had lived it too.

"It's hard to shake, isn't it?" Aubrey mused. "The way they made us believe that violence and control were the only ways to survive. That power was everything."

Damian looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. "It's not who I am anymore."

Aubrey tilted her head, watching him carefully. "Isn't it?"