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ੈ✩‧₊˚ CHAPTER EIGHT
the return of astraea
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Celina tucked her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie as she walked alongside Nightwing down the familiar halls of Mount Justice. It smelled the same — a mix of fresh air, gear polish, and a thousand memories she thought she'd never breathe in again.

"You sure I'm good to leave the infirmary?" she teased lightly.

Nightwing glanced sideways at her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Cleared for duty, Astraea."

He led her to a familiar door — her old room. Celina hesitated for half a second before he nudged it open. She stepped inside... and froze.

It was exactly the same.

The bed was made, the shelves still lined with little trinkets and books she used to collect. Her panther plush — the one Dick had gotten her for Christmas — sat propped up neatly against the pillows, looking a little worn but loved.

Celina crossed the room slowly, running her fingers over the dresser, the wall where she and Dick had once jokingly marked their heights. The air was thick with memories — she could almost see the younger versions of themselves sprawled across the bed, laughing about nothing, Panther snoring at their feet. She could almost feel the way they'd sleep tangled up together, so close it was like breathing the same air.

Behind her, Nightwing leaned casually against the doorframe... but he was watching her. Always watching. Tracking her every little reaction, every small smile, like he was afraid she'd disappear again if he blinked.

"Luna, Marisol, and Mateo are nearby," Nightwing said after a beat, voice soft. "We got them set up in a house not far from here. We're providing them everything they need for —"

He didn't get the chance to finish because Celina turned and hugged him tightly, burying her face against his chest.

"Thank you," she said, voice raw, honest. "For this. For everything."

Nightwing wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, pulling her close. He closed his eyes for a second, just savoring the feel of her — real, alive. For so long, he'd lived with the fear that the only way he'd ever see her again was through a hologram.

Speaking of.

He pulled back slightly, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Actually... there's something I wanna show you."

Curious, Celina followed as he led her down the hall to the memorial area. And there, shimmering faintly, was her hologram. Her fifteen-year-old self stood solemn and proud, dressed in her combat attire. She looked so serious, so grown-up, and small all at once.

Celina stared at it, something unreadable flickering through her eyes. Then, she cracked a wry smile.

"This makes me look way too serious," she said, elbowing him lightly.

Nightwing chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Artemis said you'd say that."

"Smart girl." She tilted her head at him. "She knows me too well."

"Maybe you look a little too serious," Dick said, stepping forward, reaching up to deactivate the projection — a symbolic gesture, the end of her absence — "but still always beautiful."

Celina arched a brow at him. "There's that cocky side again, Boy Wonder."

He smirked sideways at her, the old familiar spark lighting his eyes. "You missed it."