It had been weeks since the world went to shit. When superheroes went insane.

Or at least that's what people believed, reputations ruined, heroes missing, faith lost. An absurd image painted by Amanda Waller, manipulating the public and making them turn on their protectors.

At first, heroes tried to discredit the fake videos circulating through the internet and on the news. Easier said than done. There was no one.

Then the second wave hit; everyone's powers were gone. The only comfort you had was that Damian didn't have powers, he'd be saved from the suffering and the pain that was stripped from many others that day.

This when you really started to panic, your friends, your family, you.

It was somewhere between getting slammed into the concrete by something did things get really fuzzy.

Turning to fend for yourself as your teammates seemed to fall one by one. You had no way to tell if anyone you loved was safe. The events of everything rocked everyone to their core.

Damian especially. You were the person he was closest to before all this happened, he couldn't even find you since that day. He didn't know whether or not you were alive or safe.

He had spent hours trying to find you to no avail. It was frustrating and he struggled with his anger in the days following your disappearance. He had practically spent 24/7 at the Batcomputer searching for any sign of you to Bruce's dismay.

That was until you had practically stumbled into the Batcave, collapsing as soon as you had entered. Your face and body battered and bruised from the weeks of brutality from civilians.

When you came to, you were greeted with the sight of Damian's room, realizing you were out of you were out of your suit and in his bed. Everything still too hazy to decipher.

"Don't move. You'll rip your stitches." Damian talks far more softly than you'd ever heard before, pulling you out of your confusion. A deep frown on his face — what a worrywart.