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.
"Thank you. That's been driving me up the wall." I try to joke. His face softens.
"You're welcome." He answers. I yawn against my will. "We should get you back to bed." He says with a smirk. I roll my eyes.
"That's all I've done today. I shouldn't even be tired." I complain as he stands. He offers his hand and I take it. As soon as I stand I get dizzy and a wave of pain sweeps through me.
I let out a small noise and my legs falter. I slump against Dami, who catches me gently. I grip onto his shirt tightly, the pain making it hard to think and breathe.
I blink rapidly as my breathing flutters. I can't breathe normally, only in short bursts. I can feel each cut as if they were just made. I am lucid enough to hear Damian speaking and feel my body being lifted. I can see everything but it's as if I'm not comprehending the images.
I whimper and I hear more quiet talking. I vaguely register that we're leaving the movie room. I see the room swaying and I think I'm being carried. I blink, trying to get my senses to come back through the pain. It starts to ease just enough for me to become fully lucid.
"I'm okay. It's just a spike. I'm okay." I say quietly, more to myself than to Dami but he hears me all the same.
"You're still getting medicine and you are not leaving your bed." He says firmly. I can hear the fear clear in his voice. I can't even disagree.
"Okay," I say. I'm doing my best to breathe as deeply as I can, which is still pretty shallow.
We make our way up the stairs. Damian steps carefully and I barely even feel the rise each time. He takes us down the hallway just as softly. I appreciate it tremendously.
I can't see where we're going but I can guess that we've made it to our rooms. He steps through a door and I see my yellow walls as he walks us inside.
I hear my bedsheets ruffle and I'm immediately reminded of earlier. I can feel him pause but he simply grabs something and walks to my desk. I don't see what it is until he turns back around. I see the canvas I was working on, flipped over so the actual image isn't displayed.
I get set gently on the bed and now I can see Damian's face. His eyebrows are knit together and his eyes are full of concern.
"I'll be back with your medicine." He states and I nod, the pain already starting to ebb away. I watch as he strolls out of the room.
I'm actually exhausted now. My body feels heavy and I'm out of breath. I feel like I just got the air knocked out of me. I struggle to keep my eyes open.
Luckily, Damian returns with my medication before I give in. He holds a glass of water in his other hand.
He silently helps me sit up so I can take the meds easier. I end up drinking the rest of the water as well. He helps me lay back down. Oh, how the tables have turned.
"Better?" He asks quietly. I offer him a genuine smile.
"Much better," I state. He looks relieved, his eyebrows parting.
"Then get some sleep, Beloved." He says, placing a kiss on my forehead. I smile.
"No objections," I mumble as the darkness creeps into my vision.
When the darkness takes me this time, it doesn't hold me in its cold embrace. Instead, I find myself in a dark room.
It's silent, and I can't see anything until the lights turn on. There's only one, actually. It hums loudly, filling the silence until it's almost deafening.
I try to cover my ears but I can't move my arms. I look down to see I'm bound in chains. Where am I? Where is Damian?
I don't know how I know this but he's supposed to be with me right now. I look around frantically. No one.
"Damian?" I ask softly. My voice is louder than the hum of the light. Despite that, I don't think he can hear me.
"Damian!" I yell. Still nothing.
"Damian! Please!" I shout, louder this time. I get an answer.
"He's not coming, Girl."
I whip my head around, trying to find who said that. His face is suddenly in front of mine.
The Joker grins maliciously. I shake my head. No. He can't be here. Damian wouldn't let him.
"Damian!" I scream. The Joker cackles.
"He's not coming~" He sings. I feel fear overwhelm me.
"Damian! Please! Help me!" I yell, feeling my throat burn.
I pull against the chains. I need to get away. The Joker comes closer, his eyes full of hatred and glee.
He slaps me, hard enough for my head to swing to the side. I feel blood gush through my mouth. I try to open my mouth but he grabs my face. His palm covers my lips, forcing them together.
I taste the bitter, metallic liquid fill my mouth. I start to choke on it. I strain against my chains, trying to get away, to breathe.
I'm close to passing out when he releases my face. I cough and hack, breathing deeply. He grins at me, I have tears in my eyes.
"I'm not done with you yet girlie." He taunts. I release a sob.
"Damian! Please! I'm here!" I shout, my cries are in vain.
"If he were here could I do this?" Joker asks, pulling out a blood-drenched card.
"No! No! Please!" I beg, tears streaming down my face.
He cackles as he carves into me. I scream, not violently, but in pure pain.
"HELP ME! I CAN'T DO THIS! PLEASE! DAMIAN!" I cry out. Above my screams, I can hear the cackling.
It's not the Joker cackling. It sounds like, Damian. His voice sounds raw and I feel my heart tear.
"Help you? You're alone. Your own parents didn't want you, why would I? You're not worth my time, let alone my help." He leers. I can't see him. I hear his cackles again.
"See Girl? He's not coming." The Joker says lowly.
My knees buckle and I'm kneeling. I cough out blood onto the pavement. I feel more cuts appear on my back. I scream out, no words, just mindless screaming.
"DAMIAN! I'M SORRY!"
My eyes shoot open. I'm panting, I'm drenched in sweat, I have tears pouring from my eyes as I heave out sobs.
My door is slammed open and my head snaps to see Damian standing in my doorway with a dagger. I scramble to the other side of my bed, almost falling off.
"I'm, I'm sorry! I'm fine! I pro- promise! Please! I'm sorry!" I sob out quickly. I watch him drop the knife and hold his hands up in surrender.
"Cora, it's just me. It's okay. You're okay." He speaks slowly. I take in several breaths. I look around my room frantically.
It's still dark. I'm in my bed. There's no single light bulb. I check that there are no chains around my wrists. I'm in my room, the yellow walls looking gray in the moonlight.
"I'm f-fine. Go back to b-bed." I stutter out, my lips are trembling. He shakes his head.
"No. I'm not leaving until you're calm." He says firmly. I nod quickly, taking in deep breaths.
"I'm calm. See? Totally calm." I state, my mind still reeling.
"I'm still not leaving you." He says, unconvinced, I feel tears spring into my eyes.
"Why? Why aren't you leaving?" I ask, feeling tears spring back to my eyes. He frowns deeply.
"Because I care about you. I love you." He states. I feel another sob rip through my body.
"But you didn't- You said- You told me-" I try, my head spinning. He steps closer and I flinch.
"Cora, it was just a dream. It wasn't real. Whatever I said, wasn't real." He explains gently.
"A dream? No, but I was there and he was, he, you." I mutter as my head starts to clear. "It felt so real." I rasp. It was just a dream. It wasn't real.
He steps closer and my hand flies to my mouth as I sob again. I sob quietly into my hand as he slowly makes his way over to me.
Damian settles himself on the bed and I move myself closer. My back aches as I do. Dami wraps his arms around me gently and I sink into him.
He holds me silently as I cry. He rocks us slowly side to side. I cling to him my arms around his torso, my hands fisting his shirt.
It feels like hours until I finally calm down. I sniffle instead of sob, my tears have stopped flowing.
"Cora?" I hear him ask. I keep my gaze trained on his shoulder.
"Yes?" I croak, I almost wince at the sound of my voice.
"Why didn't you believe me?" He questions, his voice sounds quiet.
"Believe you about what?" I feel him start rubbing his thumb on my shoulder blade absentmindedly.
"Why would you think I don't love you?" He asks hesitantly.
"You told me that I wasn't worth your help. In my dream." I amend quietly.
"This is reality, so please, believe me when I tell you that you are worth the world to me. I will help you and love you for the rest of my days." He says, his voice sounds tight.
"I think I could believe that," I reply.
"Could?" He questions.
"I can't truly believe it, not right now," I explain sadly. He stays silent for several long moments.
"Alright. I can prove it later." He accepts. I crack a small smile.
"How do you plan to do that?" I ask, pulling away so I can look at his face.
"Time, and patience. Mark my words, Cora Sanchez. You will know how important you are to me." He states seriously. I let myself smile just a bit more.
"I have no doubts. Am I making the same oath, or do you already know how much you mean to me?" I question. He smirks.
"I know I mean a lot, but I wouldn't mind a reminder." He says, I hear the playful tone in his voice.
"Then I will tell you, every day. Sound fair?" I offer. He pretends to think it over.
"Fair enough."