Between Worlds

Maggie floated in a strange, weightless void, the edges of her surroundings blurred and surreal. She blinked, disoriented, as the scene sharpened into focus. She was standing—or hovering—in a sterile, brightly lit operating room. Below her, a team of doctors and nurses moved with urgency, their faces obscured by masks and shields as they worked frantically over a motionless body. Her body.

"What's… what's going on?" Maggie asked, her voice trembling as she stared down at herself.

She reached out instinctively, but her hand passed through the air as if she weren't really there.

"You're watching them fight for your life," a calm voice said behind her.

Maggie turned to see Lillyanna standing nearby, her presence as serene as before.

"I don't understand," Maggie said, panic creeping into her voice. "You said I live! Why am I… here?"

Lillyanna stepped closer, her gaze shifting to the surgical team below.

"You did choose to live, Maggie. Your soul made that choice. But now, it's up to your body to survive—and to these doctors to help it."

Maggie's hands clenched at her sides, frustration and fear bubbling to the surface.

"That doesn't make sense! If I chose to live, why can't I just go back? Why do I have to wait for..."

"Because life is not so simple," Lillyanna said gently.

"Your choice was only the first step. The rest is beyond your control."

Maggie watched as the lead surgeon barked instructions, their hands moving swiftly. Her heart sank as the machines beeped erratically, the tension in the room palpable.

"What if they can't save me?" she whispered.

Lillyanna turned to her, her expression both kind and firm.

"Then you will rest, knowing you fought until the very end. But I believe in you, Maggie—and in them."

Maggie gaze fixed on the scene below. The pain of leaving her family, of leaving Jason and everything she loved, felt unbearable. She balled her fists, her voice trembling with determination.

"They have to save me. I'm not ready to go."

Lillyanna's smile returned, faint but reassuring.

"Then hold on, Maggie. Let them do their work."

Bruce and Alfred strode through the hospital's sterile hallways, their normally composed faces etched with worry. Bruce's mind raced with unanswered questions, each one weighing heavier than the last. As they turned a corner, Commissioner Gordon was waiting, his posture tense, his face pale with exhaustion.

"Jim," Bruce said, his voice calm but clipped, the worry barely masked.

"Where are they? What's happening?"

Gordon stepped forward, running a hand through his graying hair.

"Maggie's still in surgery," he said, his tone grim. "They haven't given me any updates yet. They're doing everything they can."

Bruce's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

"And Barbara?"

Gordon's expression darkened further. He hesitated, his voice breaking slightly.

"She's alive. She's stable in the ICU. But…" He paused, swallowing hard. "The doctors say the injuries to her spine are severe. She's paralyzed. From the waist down."

Alfred's breath hitched softly beside Bruce, but Bruce didn't move, his expression hardening into a mask of stone. Inside, however, a storm raged. Barbara, one of his most trusted allies, was now facing a life forever changed, and his daughter—his Maggie—was still fighting for hers.

"Where is she?" Bruce asked, his voice low and controlled.

"ICU, room 204," Gordon replied. "But they're limiting visitors until they stabilize her further."

Bruce stood silent for a long moment, the weight of the situation settling over him. Alfred stepped forward; his voice gentle but firm. "

Master Wayne, perhaps we should wait in the surgical waiting room. They may have news soon."

Bruce nodded slightly; his movements stiff. As they followed Gordon toward the waiting area.

Bruce sat in the surgical waiting room, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped tightly. Alfred stood nearby, his usual calm demeanor strained as they waited for any word on Maggie's condition. The sterile smell of antiseptics filled the air, every second dragging on endlessly. The door opened, and a surgeon stepped inside, still wearing her scrubs and surgical cap. Her face was tired but composed. Bruce and Alfred immediately stood, the intensity in Bruce's gaze demanding answers before he even spoke.

"Mr. Wayne," the surgeon began, her voice steady.

"We've just finished operating on your daughter. Her injuries were severe. She lost a significant amount of blood due to the multiple stabbed wounds to her abdomen and the bullet lodged in her leg. It was touch and go for a while."

 "Is she… stable?"

The surgeon nodded.

"For now, yes. We managed to stop the bleeding, repair the damage, and stabilize her. However…" She hesitated, her expression growing more serious.

"She's in a coma. Her body has been through a lot, and right now, it's unclear when—or if—she'll wake up."

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, his voice quiet but steady.

"She's strong, sir. If anyone can fight through this, it's Miss Maggie."

Bruce exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving the surgeon.

"Where is she now?"

"We're moving her to the ICU," the surgeon replied.

"You'll be able to see her once she's settled. For now, we're monitoring her closely."

Bruce gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you, doctor."

The surgeon nodded in return before stepping out. Alfred broke the silence, his voice filled with quiet determination.

"She'll pull through, Master Wayne."

Bruce didn't respond immediately, his gaze distant as he thought of Maggie lying in the ICU.

"She has to," he finally said, his voice low but firm.

Maggie floated in the murky haze of her coma, aware only of the rhythmic beeping of the machines around her. Each sound felt distant yet constant, anchoring her to the physical world. She couldn't move or speak, but her mind stirred faintly, struggling to process her surroundings.

"Still holding on," a familiar voice said softly.

Maggie recognized it immediately. Lillyanna appeared beside her, calm and composed as always, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

"These doctors," Lillyanna added, glancing around the room, "are pretty damn good. You're lucky to have them."

Maggie wanted to respond, to ask questions, but the effort was too great. Instead, she focused on the faint hum of voices entering the room. The tone was low and measured at first, but as the words became clearer, she recognized them: Alfred and her father.

"Maggie…" Bruce's voice was unsteady, and it startled her. He rarely let emotion slip, but now it wavered, the weight of his worry evident in every word.

"I'm here."

She felt a surge of warmth and sorrow at the same time. She couldn't reach out to him, couldn't tell him she could hear him, but his voice became a lifeline in the void.

"Be strong," Bruce continued, his voice growing quieter.

"I need you to come back."

Alfred's calm tone followed, offering a steady contrast.

"She'll find her way back to us."

Lillyanna crossed her arms, watching the scene unfold.

"They care about you more than you realize, you know. That kind of love isn't easy to come by."

Maggie's mind struggled against the fog, her emotions overwhelming her even in her current state. The sounds of the machines, her father's voice, and the quiet hum of Alfred's reassurances all blended together, creating a strange mix of comfort and urgency. As Bruce's voice faded into the background.