I thought I would get further into the plot than I did, but oh well. Have some Bailey being uncomfortable and confused while the heroes try to help them.
CW for minor medical stuff (starting an IV), medication, and Bailey's crappy headspace. Let me know if I missed anything, or if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.
Masterlist
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Bailey slowly managed to get their breathing under control. No matter how many healings they went through, they never got less intense.
They survived, though. They always survived. And they remembered to show their proper gratitude for the healing, too.
The healer double-checked their concussion, using a penlight to check pupillary reactions.
“Concussion is healed,” she said as Bailey blinked away the light’s afterimage. “Good news! You can have painkillers now.”
“Thank you,” Bailey said softly. Painkillers weren’t something to take for granted.
She came over with a tray loaded with equipment. Bailey swallowed hard. Tourniquet, alcohol swabs, medications, syringes, needles—what were they going to do to them?
The healer must have noticed Bailey staring, because she made eye contact with a soft smile. “I’m going to start an IV so we can get some fluids started, as well as giving you those pain medications. Okay?”
Bailey nodded quickly, cheeks prickling with embarrassment. There was no reason for them to be such a stupid little baby, are you going to start crying now? about this. The heroes were doing them a kindness. They needed to suck it up and deal with it.
They tried closing their eyes as the healer worked, but that made everything worse. The smell of disinfectant, the hum of the machinery, it was all too much like being back there. They opened their eyes. This wasn’t… wasn’t there. They got out; they were at Hero Headquarters now.
They got out.
The healer stayed focused on their arm as she asked, “Are you allergic to anything? Medications, foods?” She pulled the tourniquet tight and started feeling for a vein.
They blinked. “Uh… not that I know of?”
She nodded. “Good. Because you’ll need some antibiotics as well, just to make sure your back heals up properly.” She picked up a needle.
“Okay,” Bailey managed to croak out. They had to look away, but they could still feel the sharp sting as the needle pierced their arm and the strangeness as the tubing entered their vein.
“And… done!” the healer said. When Bailey looked over, she was taping the tubing to their arm and removing the tourniquet. “Bring me a bag of saline and an IV stand, please, and the—yup, that one!”
That was directed to the hero, who was walking over with the requested items. They looked… surprisingly concerned. Yes, it was the job of heroes to care about and save people, but surely that didn’t extend to villains, right? There was no reason for them to look so soft when looking at Bailey of all people.
“Thanks, Foxfire!” the healer said.
Foxfire looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. “We’re using codenames?”
“Until our fearless leader says otherwise!” she cheerfully replied, undaunted by her colleague’s glower.
Bailey rather wished they could disappear right then. Whether it be through invisibility, mimicry, or teleportation like Foxfire could do, they weren’t picky. Of course the heroes knew each other’s civilian identities. They would obviously use their real names in their own base. And here was Bailey, a villain, in their midst. They were forcing the heroes to abandon their usual easy dynamic and instead guard their identities in what should be their safe place.
“Sorry,” they said, barely more than a whisper.
All that earned them was a strange, undecipherable look from both heroes.
The healer set the IV stand next to the bed Bailey was on and hung the bag of saline off it. She fiddled with a length of tubing, and then Bailey’s arm was chilled by the saline drip. She grabbed syringes and loaded them, presumably to inject into the IV. Bailey didn’t watch.
“So!” the healer said. “Next steps. We’re going to photograph your injuries, and I’m going to splint your leg. Then Foxfire is going to start on your back while I start the paperwork for all this. Any questions?”
Too many to count. And apparently the pain meds were kicking in and breaking down their brain-to-mouth barrier already, because they blurted out, “What paperwork? Why do you need to take pictures?”
The two heroes shared a look, which did nothing to calm Bailey down. They looked from Foxfire to the healer and back again, anxiety rising as they went long moments without answering.
“It’s for when we eventually arrest whoever did this to you,” Foxfire finally said.
Bailey almost laughed at that, but they still had enough self-preservation instincts to manage to keep that in.
“We need as much evidence as we can get,” the healer continued. “I’ll be writing down what all I healed; that’s what the paperwork is.”
Bailey just nodded. It wasn’t going to happen, but it was a nice idea. And the heroes had their protocols they had to follow. It would be stupid to tell them no.
Bailey squeezed their eyes shut against the flash of the cameras as the two heroes started photographing their injuries. They were quiet as they worked, only the occasional instruction—chin up, turn this here, lift that there—breaking the silence. The heroes were doing this to help, but it still felt like they were documenting a specimen they were about to dissect. Bailey felt small under their assessing gazes, like nothing more than an insect waiting to be pinned, numbered, and cataloged.
Finally, the healer nodded. “That’s enough for now. We’ll need to ask you about these injuries, and get pictures of your back once it’s cleaned, but that can all wait. I’m going to get the supplies for your leg.”
Foxfire perched awkwardly on a nearby stool as the healer walked off. They said, “You know we’re not mad at you, right?”
“What?” Bailey asked dumbly.
Foxfire gave a smile like a wince, their lips pressed together tightly. “We should have said that earlier. I’m sorry. That’s on us; it wasn’t our intention to scare you. We’re angry that this happened, not at you.”
Bailey blinked at them. The words were a puzzle that they couldn’t fit the pieces together. “But… why?”
Foxfire’s face went through a series of expressions that Bailey couldn’t follow. “Why do we care, since you’re a villain?”
Bailey nodded. Their head felt fuzzy, like it was packed with cotton balls. Nothing was making sense.
Foxfire smiled again. This time the expression was sad. “No one deserves to be hurt. Not even villains.”
They must have noticed Bailey’s blank incomprehension, because they added, “You don’t have to believe me. It’s okay. But I just wanted to make sure to say it. This isn’t your fault, and we aren’t angry at you.”
