tw. sex work, implied sexual assault, arguing, and a very well deserved mental breakdown

The night was heavy with silence as Melina stood at the edge of the alley, the cold biting through her thin jacket. The city lights flickered like distant stars, but none of their warmth reached her.

She clutched the small bundle of cash tightly in her fist—money meant for a better future, for school, for Maeve. But the crushing weight of the past weeks, the bruises she hid, the fear she couldn't shake, pressed down harder than hope.

Melina took a deep breath and stepped forward, slipping into the shadows where the streetlights barely reached. The familiar, grimy corners called to her like an old wound that never truly healed.

She hated what she was doing, but the house was no safer. Michael's threats hadn't faded, and without her shield, Maeve was vulnerable. This was survival, pure and simple.

As she moved through the night, her resolve hardened. She wasn't giving up—she was fighting in the only way she knew how.

And no matter how dark it got, she promised herself she'd find a way to protect her family, even if it meant walking through fire again.

Rain had just started to fall, drumming softly on the slick pavement as Nightwing slipped down from the rooftops and landed quietly beside Melina. She stood under the flickering streetlamp, eyes wary and fists clenched.

"Melina," Nightwing said softly, stepping closer.

She spun around, face hardening instantly. "What do you want, Richard?"

He hesitated and flinched at his legal name, then reached out, but she flinched back.

"This isn't where you belong," he said gently.

Melina's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get to decide where I belong. You don't know what I'm doing, or why."

Nightwing's voice remained calm. "I know you're hurting. But, this hurting yourself—this isn't the answer."

She shook her head, voice rising. "You think you can swoop in and fix everything? You don't get to save me. No one does. I'm protecting Maeve and Jason. I'm doing what I have to do."

Her voice cracked, then hardened again. "So just leave me alone."

Nightwing opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off sharply.

"I'm done talking. Stay out of my life."

Without waiting for a reply, Melina spun on her heel and disappeared into the shadows.

Moments later, she was with a client, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes, pushing down the rage and pain bubbling just beneath the surface.

Nightwing stood in the shadows, watching Melina disappear into the night with the client, her forced smile like a knife twisting in his chest. The rain soaked through his suit, but he barely noticed. His mind raced, torn between anger, helplessness, and heartbreak.

He clenched his fists, the ache deep in his chest growing heavier with every step she took away from him. He'd thought he could reach her—that maybe she'd let him in. But her words echoed sharply, cutting through the hope he'd dared to hold onto.

"I'm done talking. Stay out of my life."

The bitterness in her voice wasn't just anger—it was pain, a fortress built to keep anyone from getting close. And Nightwing knew it wasn't just about him. It was about all the weight she carried, all the battles she fought alone.

His jaw tightened. He wanted to chase after her, to tell her she didn't have to face this by herself. But he also knew that pushing too hard might drive her further away.

Instead, he stayed silent, watching as the distance between them grew—not just in feet, but in something far more painful.

Nightwing swallowed hard, the sting of loss settling deep.

He whispered into the night, "I'm here, Melina. When you're ready."

But for now, all he could do was wait, hoping she'd find her way back.

The apartment was quiet when Maeve got home—too quiet. She dropped her bag by the door and moved through the darkened hallway until she saw Melina at the sink, scrubbing a plate with too much force, her sleeves rolled up and damp.

"Where were you last night?" Maeve asked quietly.

Melina's shoulders tensed, but she didn't turn around. "Out."

Maeve stepped further into the room, her voice trembling. "Don't lie to me. I know what you did."

The plate slipped from Melina's hands and shattered in the sink.

She finally turned, eyes red and tired. "You don't know anything."

"You went back out there," Maeve said, hurt blooming in her chest. "After everything... after Jason, after Grayson—you just gave up?"

Melina's voice was low at first. "I didn't give up. I made a choice."

"No," Maeve said, stepping forward. "You always taught me to fight. To stand up for ourselves. And now you're—what? Letting men touch you again just to protect me?"

"I have to protect you!" Melina shouted, slamming her palm on the counter. Maeve flinched. "Don't you get it? That's all I have left! If something happens to you, I break. So don't stand there and judge me for doing what I have to do."

Maeve stared, stunned. Melina had never yelled at her like that before.

"I didn't ask you to do this," Maeve whispered. "I need you, not some sacrifice. I need my sister, not a ghost coming home at 3 a.m. with bruises she won't explain."

Tears welled in Melina's eyes, but she turned away. Not replying, Maeve held her tears back and walked to her room.

Melina sat on the edge of her bed, her back to the door, staring at nothing. Her hands trembled in her lap, knuckles red from scrubbing too hard. The echo of Maeve's voice still rang in her ears.

"I need you, not some sacrifice."

Melina ran a hand down her face, feeling the weight of every choice, every night spent pretending she was okay. She'd always kept herself together—for Maeve. Held everything in like a dam threatening to break. But tonight, the dam had cracked. She'd yelled. At Maeve.

The girl who trusted her. Who looked up to her. Who called her home. Who called her mom as a toddler.

A sob hit Melina's chest before she could stop it, and she curled forward, arms wrapped tightly around her own waist. She'd never meant to hurt her. She didn't even know when she'd started unraveling. Maybe it was the moment Jason left for the manor. Maybe it was the first time Michael hit her and no one came. Or maybe it was just... exhaustion. Years of it.

"I'm not supposed to break," she whispered into the stillness. "I'm not supposed to fall apart."

But she was. And it terrified her.

Because if she wasn't the strong one, who would be?

A soft knock came at her door, but Melina didn't answer. Not yet. She didn't know how to face Maeve. Not until she could look her sister in the eye and say something other than I'm sorry I'm failing you.

So she stayed there, curled in on herself, the quiet finally too loud to ignore.

And for the first time in a long while, Melina let herself cry.

author's note 

i realize i never really made it so they found out about the whole vigilante thing,

i'm a bit lazy and don't feel like rewriting but i just imagine jason being overly excited

and accidentally talking about being robin to maeve who then tells melina, it's more of

an unspoken acknowledgment, partially due to melina trying to not ruin jason's chance

at a new life by arguing with bruce over having a preteen run around fighting villians.