Damian Wayne

Damian was confident the training would go smoothly. You were well-trained for your age, and it wasn't his fault you hadn't blocked that punch. But when he saw the blood running down your face, his confidence vanished. You were pale, your breathing shallow and ragged.

"It's okay, you're fine. It's nothing," Damian murmured, trying to calm himself and you. He quickly scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the infirmary, glancing around the cage to make sure no one realized how serious the situation was. They hadn't, but Damian's stomach churned. His father would never believe him.

She laid you on a table and tried to keep her voice steady as she cleaned up the blood. But her hands faltered when she saw the swelling around your eye and the bruising spreading rapidly. The bleeding wouldn't stop, and something about your face... didn't seem right. Her fingers gently grazed your skull, pressing delicately to check for any injuries. The sudden sensitivity beneath her touch sent a chill down her spine.

"Damn it," he muttered. It wasn't just a cut. Your skull was grazed. Maybe fractured. Panic gripped him, but he forced himself to concentrate.

Damian's hands moved faster, grabbing a bandage in a desperate attempt to control the situation. He tried to distract you by offering you the brightly colored bandage, something to soothe your tears. But his mind was racing. The wound was much worse than he'd thought, and there was no quick fix.

His breath caught in his throat as he realized how much worse it could be. The blood wasn't the only problem. You were more hurt than he'd anticipated. Damian had only tried to stop the bleeding, but the damage was far deeper than a simple scrape. He couldn't cover it with a Band-Aid, and the gravity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks.