Chapter Text
Damian Wayne was like a well-oiled machine. Except for the fact that this machine survived on 2 hours of sleep, medical notes, and sheer spite. The Gotham Central Emergency Room was a place of lost and found hope, with so many entering and exiting and their lives changed for better or for worse, in what way it would change Damians' life, is undecided.
Machines beeped and hummed methodically in the background as Damian sunk his head lower into his rough, calloused hands. Being a nineteen-year-old trauma surgeon was not for the weak or faint of heart. Damian Wayne is neither so when a page appeared from the pediatric ward for emergency surgery at three in the morning. He adjusted his scrubs and swiftly departed down the sterile hall.
A door slammed open to Damian’s right just as he was putting away the last instruments from the previous surgery. His head moved with curiosity, hoping to find the reason for the fuming nurse that had just stomped down the corridor. As a Wayne, Damian had always performed to the highest degree, as an Ah Ghul, he did even better. This was probably the reason why Dr Powell, a charge doctor who was more than a bit bitter that a 19-year-old had a better understanding of medicine than him, rolled his eyes at Damian’s need to know what was going on. Finally, his eyes settle on a young girl sat inside a nearby room, with the tell-tale stuck out ribs and slightly sunken eyes. More concerningly, she also had a rather large blood stain steadily growing larger on her side. With his assessment of the situation done, Damian made the quick decision to go and treat the teen. He may have given up the cape Two years ago, but he was most certainly still a hero.
“She was definitely no older than fifteen” Damian murmured to himself, as he walked down the sparse, illuminated corridor to the girl's room. He stopped short in front of the door, preparing himself to be more “approachable” around the minor (who said he couldn’t deal with kids well). With his self-regulation complete and a quick mental prayer to the gods of not scaring children, Damian gently pushed open the door.
The bright fluorescent lights cast the girl’s face in an eerie translucent glow that didn’t help her look any less sick. “Hello, my name is Dr. Wayne, would you like to let me see your injuries?” Damian said with his usual monotone speech.
“Get lost”, the girl said, casting her eyes over Damian and fixing him with a steely glare. Her distaste for him or likely life in general clearly evident in the hunch of her shoulders and rigid legs, despite them hanging limply off the bed.
“I’m going to call three attendings in here to help discuss your treatment plan for stitches after I check your wounds, is that alright with you?”
“How-how did you know I needed stitches...Never mind it doesn’t matter what I want, you’ll do it anyway”, the girl replies, head down and picking determinedly at her cracked fingernails.
“First of all miss, I am aware you need stitches because of the puddle of blood on your side and the fact that you are still conscious, Secondly, if you do not wish for stitches or other medical staff to come, I can wrap your side on gauze and leave you to rethink your decision” Damian says with only a hint of worry for the child bleeding through his stoic tone.
“So what would you like to do?”
“I, I think I'll do the stitches” the girl says, now aggressively digging her hands into her bony wrists to keep them from quivering with blood loss, her exhaustion clear in her wavering voice.
“I think that is a wise decision” Damian replies easily, channeling his best Alfred impression in an attempt to comfort the poor child who is far too young to make these decisions.
Quickly exiting the room, Damian paged through to his department head, Dr Martin, for immediate assistance in the pediatric wardroom 13. While he waited, Damian mindlessly moved around the empty hallway. He picked up and put down his stethoscope on his neck repeatedly; he felt wrong for some reason, but for once he didn’t know why. The feeling was like a faint headache, not horrible but unsettling. Almost the same as the dull buzz of a few drinks (not that he’d know...).
“Would you be able to tell me your name?” Damian says quietly as he re-enters the room. The girl simply looked away, her shoulders tense and a look in her eyes that seemed, familiar. Familiar because it had stared back at him in the broken, bloody shards of a long-forgotten mirror 9 years ago. A look that was the only physical evidence of the pain, the anger, and the loneliness he felt all those years ago. A silent glance, the only way to convey the pain of being torn in half on the inside.
Just as Damian turns to leave again, he hears a faint noise behind.
“Nora”
“Excuse me?”
“Nora, my name is Nora Green”
“Ah I see thank you”, Damian fixes his eyes on Nora’s face with his mouth in a slightly perked up line, that could only be classed as a smile by bat-kid standards. Quickly exiting the room, Damian sends the medical information to the head of pediatrics. Although he knows he should wash his hands of this, his fingers fly over the keyboard on the medical database computer. The screen lights up with a too bright flash. Nora Green, age 14, parents: deceased.
That’s it. Those two final words hit him harder than any blow his mother dealt; it was like the life drained out of him thinking of her too young face. With a steadying breath, Damian looked further into her file. It contained all the classic orphan information, no emergency contacts, no routine checkups, and no notes on file. Damian’s head sunk back into his hands; he knew what he had to do. It was hospital protocol that any child who was unaccompanied for more than forty-eight hours, or an orphan, would have a social worker from the GFS (Gotham Family Services) called for them.
This all felt wrong, he had done this so many times before, yet those piercing green eyes couldn’t seem to leave the back of his mind. But Damian was a man of duty and order, he knew what he had to do and he would do it. With an almost imperceptibly shaking hand, Damian hit the alert button and sat back to await the arrival of Miss Kim in all her paperwork glory.
Little did Damian know that this would be the night that he would think about for years to come...