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The zeta tube's light faded, and Cassie stumbled forward onto the platform, leaving a trail of blood droplets on the polished floor of Mount Justice.
"Wonder Girl, B-0-7."
The computerized voice announced her arrival with its usual detachment, completely at odds with the state she was in. Her armor was cracked in three places, the golden breastplate sporting a jagged split that ran from shoulder to sternum. Blood seeped through the tears in her red shirt beneath, and when she took a breath, something in her ribs screamed in protest.
She'd had worse. Probably.
Cassie gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand straighter, ignoring the way her vision swam at the edges. The mission had been a success. Klarion's latest scheme thwarted, the hostages safe, the artifact secured. That was what mattered. Not the fact that she'd taken a hit from a chaos-enhanced golem that had felt like getting struck by a freight train made of concrete and bad decisions.
"Cassie."
She looked up to find Kaldur standing at the base of the platform, his arms crossed and his expression carved from stone. Behind him, the rest of the team filtered into the room, Wally vibrating with barely contained energy, Megan floating a few inches off the ground with concern written across her features, Robin perched on a console with his arms folded, and Conner leaning against the wall with his usual stoic silence.
"Med bay," Kaldur said. It wasn't a suggestion.
"I'm fine." Cassie stepped down from the platform, and her knee nearly buckled. She caught herself on the railing, playing it off as casual. "Just need a shower and some sleep."
"You're bleeding." Kaldur moved to intercept her path. "You can barely stand. You need—"
"I said I'm fine." The words came out sharper than she intended, but Cassie didn't take them back. She straightened, meeting Kaldur's eyes with all the steel she could muster. "It looks worse than it is."
"Cassie—"
"Drop it, Kaldur." She moved to step around him, and this time her knee did give out. She caught herself on the wall, breathing hard through the pain that lanced up her side. Definitely cracked ribs. Maybe broken. "I don't need a babysitter."
"You need a doctor," Robin said from his perch, his voice carrying that particular tone of logic that made it clear he'd already calculated all possible outcomes. "Those injuries could compromise your effectiveness on the next mission. Not to mention the risk of infection, internal bleeding—"
"I heal fast," Cassie interrupted. "Daughter of Zeus, remember? I'll be fine by morning."
"Dude, you're literally leaving a blood trail," Wally said, appearing beside her in a gust of wind. He gestured at the floor behind her with exaggerated concern. "It's very 'Hansel and Gretel,' except instead of breadcrumbs it's, you know, your actual blood. Which should probably stay inside your body. Just a thought."
Despite herself, Cassie felt her mouth twitch toward a smile. But she squashed it down, shaking her head. "I appreciate the concern, really. But I'm going to my room."
She pushed off the wall and made it three steps before Megan floated into her path, green eyes wide with worry.
"Cassie, please," Megan said softly. "Let me at least do a telepathic scan. I can check for internal injuries without—"
"No." The word came out harder than Cassie meant it to, and she saw Megan flinch. Guilt twisted in her gut, but she didn't back down. "No scans. No medical bay. No hovering. I'm fine, and I'm going to bed."
"You are not fine." Kaldur's voice had taken on that edge of command, the one that reminded everyone he was their leader. "As team leader, I am ordering you to report to the medical bay for treatment."
Something hot and sharp flared in Cassie's chest. "You can't order me to—"
"I can, and I am." Kaldur stepped closer, his expression softening slightly but his tone remaining firm. "Cassie, I understand your desire for independence. But you are part of a team. Your wellbeing affects all of us. If you are injured and refuse treatment, you put yourself and the rest of us at risk."
"I'm not putting anyone at risk," Cassie shot back. "I know my limits."
"Do you?" Robin slid off the console, landing silently beside Kaldur. "Because from where I'm standing, you just took a hit that would have hospitalized a normal person for weeks, and you're acting like it's a paper cut."
"Maybe that's because I'm not a normal person." Cassie's hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she immediately regretted it as pain shot through her bruised knuckles. "I'm the daughter of Zeus. I've trained with Wonder Woman. I can handle a few bruises."
"Those aren't bruises, those are lacerations," Robin said flatly. "And possible internal bleeding. And—"
"Enough!" Cassie's voice echoed off the walls of the cave, louder than she'd intended. The team fell silent, and she could feel all their eyes on her. Her face burned. "I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't handle. I don't need you to fix me. I don't need—" She cut herself off, breathing hard. "I don't need any of this."
She turned and limped toward the corridor that led to the sleeping quarters, each step sending fresh waves of pain through her body. Behind her, she heard Wally start to say something, but Kaldur's quiet "Let her go" stopped him.
Good. Let them think she was being stubborn. Let them think she was being difficult. It was better than the alternative.
Better than admitting the truth.
Two hours later, Cassie sat in the corridor outside her room, her back against the cool metal wall. She'd made it to her door before the adrenaline had finally worn off completely, leaving her shaking and dizzy. She'd slid down to sit, telling herself she just needed a minute to catch her breath.
That had been twenty minutes ago.
Her ribs throbbed with every breath. The gashes on her torso had stopped bleeding, but they burned like fire. Her head pounded, and she was pretty sure she had a concussion to go with everything else. She should get up. Should go inside and at least clean the wounds, wrap them, do something.
But moving seemed impossible right now.
"You look terrible."
Cassie's head snapped up. Too fast, the world tilted, and she found Conner standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. She hadn't even heard him approach.
"Thanks," she muttered. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."
Conner didn't smile. He just studied her with those intense blue eyes, the ones that always seemed to see more than they should. Then he moved closer and slid down the wall to sit beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
They sat in silence for a long moment. Cassie waited for the lecture, for the insistence that she go to medical, for the judgment. But Conner just sat there, solid and quiet beside her.
Finally, he spoke. "When I first got out of Cadmus, I wouldn't let anyone help me with anything."
Cassie glanced at him sideways. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Conner stared straight ahead at the opposite wall. "I was supposed to be Superman. Supposed to be strong, invincible. Asking for help felt like admitting I was defective. Like I wasn't good enough."
Cassie's throat tightened. She looked away.
"I'm not saying that's what you're doing," Conner continued quietly. "I'm just saying... I get it. The need to prove you can handle everything on your own."
"I can handle it," Cassie said, but her voice came out smaller than she intended.
"I know you can." Conner turned to look at her. "But what are you really afraid of?"
The question hit her like a physical blow. Cassie opened her mouth to deflect, to deny, to tell him he didn't know what he was talking about. But something about the way he asked. No judgment, no pressure, just genuine curiosity that made the walls she'd built start to crack.
"I'm afraid..." She stopped, swallowed hard. "I'm afraid that if I let them help me, I'll start needing it. That I'll become dependent on it. That I'll lose the part of me that's strong and capable and—" Her voice broke slightly. "That I'll just be another sidekick who can't handle things on her own."
"You think accepting help makes you weak."
It wasn't a question, but Cassie nodded anyway. "Wonder Woman doesn't need people to patch her up after every fight. She just... handles it. And I'm supposed to be like her. I'm supposed to be strong enough to—"
"Wonder Woman has the entire Justice League," Conner interrupted gently. "She has people she trusts to have her back. That's not weakness. That's smart."
"But—"
"And you're not a sidekick." Conner's voice was firm now. "You're Wonder Girl. You're part of this team. And being part of a team means letting people help you sometimes."
Cassie felt something hot sting behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. "What if I can't do it on my own? What if I'm not strong enough?"
"Then you're not strong enough," Conner said simply. "None of us are. That's why we're a team."
Before Cassie could respond, soft footsteps echoed down the corridor. Megan appeared around the corner, her expression brightening when she saw them.
"Oh, there you are," she said, floating closer. "I was worried—" She stopped, taking in Cassie's position on the floor, the way she was holding her ribs. "Cassie..."
"I'm fine," Cassie said automatically, but the words had lost their edge.
Megan settled down to float cross-legged in front of them, her expression gentle. "You know, on Mars, we have a saying: 'A warrior who refuses aid dies alone, but a warrior who accepts it lives to fight beside her sisters.'"
"That's very poetic," Cassie said weakly.
"I made it up just now," Megan admitted with a small smile. "But the sentiment is real." She leaned forward slightly. "Cassie, I know you're strong. We all know you're strong. You don't have to prove that to us."
"Then why does it feel like I do?" The words slipped out before Cassie could stop them.
Megan's expression softened even further. "Because you're proving it to yourself. But here's the thing. Accepting help isn't the same as being helpless. Letting us take care of you when you're hurt doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."
"I'm not human," Cassie said. "I'm—"
"Part of this team," Megan finished. "And that means we take care of each other. When Conner was hurt fighting Amazo, did you think he was weak for letting us help him?"
"No, of course not."
"When Wally broke his leg and couldn't run for three weeks, did you think less of him?"
"No."
"Then why do you think we'd judge you for needing help now?" Megan reached out, not quite touching Cassie but close enough that the offer was clear. "We're your team. Your friends. Let us be here for you."
Cassie looked between Megan and Conner, seeing nothing but genuine concern in their faces. No judgment. No disappointment. Just... care.
The walls cracked a little more.
"I don't know how," she admitted quietly. "I don't know how to not be the strong one."
"You don't have to stop being strong," Conner said. "You just have to trust us enough to share the weight sometimes."
Megan smiled. "And right now, that means letting us help you to the medical bay so we can make sure you're not bleeding internally. Because if you are, you'll be much less strong when you're dead."
Despite everything, Cassie let out a weak laugh. "That's dark, Megan."
"I've been spending too much time with Robin." Megan stood—well, floated up—and extended her hand. "Come on. Let's get you patched up."
Cassie stared at the offered hand for a long moment. Every instinct screamed at her to refuse, to push herself up on her own, to prove she didn't need help.
But maybe that was the problem.
Maybe proving she didn't need help was just another way of isolating herself. Of putting up walls between her and the people who actually cared about her.
Maybe accepting help wasn't weakness at all.
Slowly, Cassie reached up and took Megan's hand. Conner stood and moved to her other side, offering his arm for support. Together, they helped her to her feet, and Cassie had to bite back a gasp as pain shot through her ribs.
"Easy," Conner murmured. "We've got you."
And somehow, that didn't feel like failure. It felt like relief.
They made their way down the corridor slowly, Megan and Conner supporting Cassie's weight between them. As they rounded the corner toward the medical bay, they found the rest of the team waiting—Kaldur standing with his arms crossed but his expression concerned, Robin perched on a nearby console, and Wally leaning against the wall.
"About time," Wally said, but his usual humor was tempered with genuine relief. "I was about to start a betting pool on how long your stubborn streak would last."
"Wally," Kaldur said warningly.
"What? I'm just saying, I had money on three hours. Robin said four. You're really costing me here, Cassie."
Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, despite everything, Cassie felt herself smile. "Sorry to disappoint."
"You could never disappoint us," Kaldur said, stepping forward. His expression was serious but kind. "We are simply glad you are allowing us to help."
"Yeah, well." Cassie shifted her weight, wincing. "Turns out I'm not as invincible as I thought."
"None of us are," Robin said, sliding off the console. "That's why we have each other."
They moved into the medical bay together, and as Megan and Conner helped Cassie onto one of the beds, she felt something in her chest loosen. Not the pain. That was still very much present, but the tight knot of fear and pride that had been choking her for so long.
"This doesn't mean I'm going soft," she said as Megan began running a medical scanner over her torso. "I'm still going to kick ass on the next mission."
"We know," Kaldur said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But perhaps next time, you will allow us to assist in the ass-kicking before you require medical attention."
"Baby steps," Cassie muttered.
Conner caught her eye from where he stood against the wall, and something passed between them, understanding, solidarity, the shared knowledge of what it meant to learn to accept help. He nodded slightly, and Cassie nodded back.
"Okay, the good news is you're not bleeding internally," Megan announced, studying the scanner readout. "The bad news is you have three cracked ribs, multiple lacerations, severe bruising, and a mild concussion."
"See?" Cassie said weakly. "Nothing serious."
"Cassie," Megan said, exasperated but fond. "That is literally the definition of serious."
"She's just trying to make us feel better about worrying," Robin said. "Classic deflection."
"I learned from the best," Cassie shot back, and Robin actually smiled.
As Megan began treating her wounds, carefully cleaning and bandaging the lacerations, wrapping her ribs, administering something for the pain, Cassie found herself relaxing despite the discomfort. The team stayed with her, Wally cracking jokes, Robin offering commentary on the mission's tactical elements, Kaldur quietly ensuring she had everything she needed, and Conner maintaining his steady, silent presence.
And Cassie realized something: this didn't make her weak. Being surrounded by people who cared about her, who wanted to help her, who refused to let her suffer alone, that didn't diminish her strength.
It amplified it.
"Thank you," she said quietly, and the team fell silent. "For not giving up on me. Even when I was being an idiot."
"You weren't being an idiot," Megan said gently. "You were being scared. There's a difference."
"Still," Cassie insisted. "Thank you. For being here. For..." She gestured vaguely at all of them. "For being my team."
"Always," Kaldur said simply, and the others nodded in agreement.
Wally grinned. "Besides, someone has to keep you from bleeding out in hallways. It's very bad for the cave's resale value."
"There it is," Robin muttered.
"What? I'm just saying—"
As her teammates dissolved into familiar banter, Cassie let herself sink back against the medical bed, feeling the pain medication start to take effect. Her ribs still ached, her head still pounded, and she was pretty sure she'd be sore for days.
But she wasn't alone.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the strongest thing of all.