Damian and Mar'i Demonfire

Fear

"Surrender Crane," I snarl.

Grayson is taking out the last of the thugs in the other room. I have managed to back Scarecrow into the corner of his lab. Crane is tightly gripping the edge of the table next to him, sweating nervously. He looks pathetic.

Then, Crane starts to laugh. Why is he laughing? He has lost.

"Oh, so sorry to disappoint you birdie! But I'm not coming with you!" At the last words, he grabs a beaker full of grey liquid from the table, and throws it at my feet.

Dark fumes start to fill the air from the grey liquid that had been splattered across the floor. The fumes make me cough, and I can't see anything through it. My head feels as if it's burning over a flame. I can barely make out the figure of Crane fleeing the room. Damn.

The pain in my head is too much. I fall to my knees, and bend over. My hands are bleeding from the glass beaker shards, but the cuts hardly concern me. My heartbeat has quickened, and my breathing becomes more frequent. I am hyperventilating. I do not feel nauseous, but dark spots start to appear in my vision. A sharp pain starts to throb in my head.

The grey liquid must have been fear toxin. It does not make one sick, but it certainly does mess with the mind.

My hyperventilating stops, as well as my coughing. In fact, my headache has gone away too. But I am not in Crane's laboratory anymore. I am in a dark room, and there is a spotlight on, about ten meters away from me.

I stand to my feet, and start walking towards the light. As I come closer, I see that there is a body, lying in the spotlight. The body is wearing a familiar Nightstar uniform.

Mar'i.

Immediately, I run towards her. Hell. She is in a pool of blood, and still bleeding. Fear starts to creep through me as I am expecting the worst. I reach Mar'i, and I fall to my knees at her body. My cape and pants soak up her blood, but I do not care. I hold her in my arms.

Three bullets are embedded into her body. One in her calf, one in her stomach, and one in her chest. Her flesh is so pale, and cold.  She seems just the way she was when we had our first kiss. The night she had been shot by the rapists.  Only this time, she is conscious, and her eyes are open.  Mar'i's breathing is shallow, and I feel a trickling pulse on her wrist.  A fierce rush of relief fills me.  She's not dead.

Even though they are open, her eyes look broken.  Mar'i's normally bright, pupiless eyes have paled, with a glassy look.  She seems to see me.

"Damian," she whispers weakly.  My relief becomes replaced with dread.  She sound so weak.  It is as if she has lost the will to live.  No.  I cannot think like that.

"Beloved," I whisper back to her.  "You are going to live," I say fervently.  But despite the anger in my voice, every part of me is filled with dread.

Mar'i starts to cough a little.  Flecks of blood leave her mouth, and land on my Robin uniform.  No.  This cannot be.  Mar'i has to live.  If she does not, then, then I do not know how I'll live.

Mar'i looks up at me with her weak eyes, blood flecks on her mouth.  "No, I won't Damian."  She coughs a little more on me.  Blood starts to trickle from her mouth.  NO!  Dammit!

"Dammit Mar'i, you have to live," I whisper to her.  But despite myself, my voice breaks a little.  She has to live.  For herself, for her mother, for Grayson, for me.