Breaths that seemed so easy hours before turned into desperate wheezing, scraping against the concrete just to let some air in.

It'd been hours of fighting, but you'd done it. All by yourself, as usual.

This felt different, though. You've been close to your demise more often then you were genuinely safe, but you never cared.

This time, though, it felt like everything was catching up to you without giving you a headstart. Gotham's sky, ignoring everything surrounding it, was still as beautiful as it was when you used to fall asleep staring at it at the age of a toddler.

It was quiet, sirens a distant noise to you. The idea of movement seemed like a faraway wish now, too dazed with injuries to do much else.

Injuries and....something else. A torn, exhausted mental state? Maybe. After all, you were a solo vigilante in the dark streets of Gotham, you didn't have the luxury of teammates or backup, and certainly not a lot of resources.

Just spite, anger, skill, grit, and a power you never should've been given.

And look where it led you. You couldn't do much but accept your empty, lonely fate here on the ground. Not death, no. You knew even now, you wouldn't end here. The curse than began this lonesome fight against crime kept you from that sweet release.

You'd just lie here for a few hours, is all, and then you'd keep going just as you always did.

It felt endless.

"You could stand," A gruff, low voice came within an earshot of you. You knew who that was. Batman.

You've crossed paths a couple times, at best neutrally, at worst, hostile. He didn't take to vigilantes who weren't his own---especially a meta---being on his turf, and you weren't leaving your own city.

Eventually you two came to a standstill on the subject, but your relationship was strained at most, if there was one at all.

"From what I've gathered your about your abilities, you've regained enough strength."

A shadow, his, loomed over you.

"But it's not physical strength that's the issue, is it?"

He's seen you, obviously. You're reckless because your power allows it, you fight until you can't stand, all so your opponent can't hurt anyone else. Even off duty you help others, as large as volunteer work and as small as helping the elderly cross streets and get to their homes safely. He knows.

But what he sees now is new. Up to this point he's surmised much about you, and this only adds to his analysis of you, the curious meta.

You do what you do because it's all you can do.

Only---he isn't quite sure where to go from that observation.

Finding this out doesn't automatically unstrain the tension between you, and you weren't the type to accept help, he could tell as much.

And when you refuse to give information even now, it's difficult to do anything about this situation. But there was no doubt that you were running yourself into the ground.

Maybe that's what you wanted.