Re: Chinatown Apt: Robert/Selina
She nodded, exhaustion, and she tried to move her limbs, tried to help, but it was beyond her. Blood stained the front of his shirt from the restraints at her stomach, and there were blood smears against the nape of his neck from her wrists. She nodded. She wanted a darkness without nightmare, sleep without Ra's, without the aching loss that came from losing something that been there forever, without the feeling that she was messing this up too. She nodded, and her arms tightened against his shoulders, and pride was nowhere to be found in the apartment.
Once she woke, she would be gone before he even realized she'd opened her eyelids. This was all too much for her. Her own weakness, her own inability to break a cycle, to staunch a wound, to keep her life from spilling all over the floor like an uncauterized hole in the fabric of her skin.
She hated this.
She loved talking to him. She loved the things he said. She loved how he understood. But she wasn't ready to be the spine of the book he was reading, splayed open and cracked, pages turned and her soul indelible letters on the page. She'd lost herself. Even with consciousness ebbing, she could feel it. Things were different, changed everywhere. Even the tiniest thing, the smallest aspect of her life was shifted.
She was from Gotham. Gotham was stagnancy. She wasn't good with change. Like any cat in a new environment, she wanted to hide somewhere dark, somewhere hands couldn't reach. She could be coaxed out, but it was a hard job, and she didn't expect it. She didn't expect that.
There was something in her throat, some words. Thank you, maybe or I'm sorry, maybe. But that darkness overtook her before she managed. An even heavier weight in his arms, she slept.