Delving into the drafts folder: Last edited, 6/30/2013; Working title, Dysphoria Sequel
Mihyar starts crying, and Tim groaned. “He’s never going to sleep through the night, is he?” Tim asked, rolling over to tuck her face into Ra’s neck.
"Rest, Timothy. I’ll get him," Ra’s said, pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead and sliding out of bed. Tim curled up in the warm spot Ra’s had left, and closed her eyes. Mihyar had been difficult today, and Tim just wanted to sleep until the lead was gone from her bones.
She was awakened, rudely, by Samarah shaking her. “We’re under attack. We need to move!” Samarah hissed. Tim sat up, adrenaline shooting through her veins.
"My son?" Tim asked urgently.
"Safe, with Ra’s. Now come on, move!”
Tim rose to her feet, the long hem of her nightgown caught in one hand to keep it from tripping her. She nodded. “Let’s go.”
Hand in hand with her guard, Timothy fled. Out of her and Ra’s bedroom, past Mihyar’s nursery, past the entrance to the Salle. The walls shook, plaster dust dislodging and showering into their hair. Samarah tugged her into a niche in the wall, fumbling at her belt for a ring of keys. She pulled off two, and pressed them into Tim’s hands.
"If we get separated, this one will let you into the garage in sub-basement two, and this one will start any of the black vehicles. Go for the armored car, you understand?" Samarah asked, staring at Tim intently. Tim nodded again.
"Sub-basement two, black armored car," she repeated back, closing her fist around the keys. Samarah smiled grimly, and passed Tim a sheathed dagger, nearly the length of Tim’s forearm.
"And if anyone tries to grab you, remember – gut wounds aren’t always fatal, but they’re always distracting, mistress." Samarah’s eyes gleamed with hard light, and for the first time in months, Tim remembered that her friend and guard was also a trained killer.
They walls shook with the sound of explosions. They exchanged glances, and started running again.
“‘Marah! The balcony!” Tim hissed. Samarah reversed direction immediately, Tim following. Down through a side corridor, out into the private sitting room. Glass shattered as men – and women – swung in through the windows. Samarah shoved Tim behind herself immediately.
"Run!" She ordered. Tim ran, ducking grasping hands and attempts to wound. Hands caught in her hair, and Tim is done playing. She nerve-struck the offending wrist, twisting free.
"Back. Off!" She snarled, hair falling in disarray around her face.
Samarah laughed like a madwoman. “Time to go, mistress!” They ran once more, out of the sitting room, through the hallway, and down to the stairwell. Samarah yanked the door shut behind her, and pulled a handgun from the exposed underside of the stairs.
"I’ll stall them. Get out of here," Samarah told her, bringing the gun up to point at the door. Tim nodded, and started hurrying down the stairs. Second floor, first floor, ground floor, sub-basement one, sub-basement two… She shoved the first key into the lock, her hands shaking. It took her three tries to unlock the door, and she shoved it open, dashing out into the garage with the sound of pound feet behind her.
"Tim!" Someone shouted. Tim spun, eyes fixing on her pursuers. There was…her mind stalled. There was a man…in a batsuit. Her heart seized.
"Dad?" Tim whispered uncertainly, hesitating. A deer frozen in the path of an oncoming car. Samarah said…but it was Bruce…what about Mihyar? The last thought spurred her on. Her son. She had to get back to her son. She turned and fled, dagger clutched tight in one hand, keys in the other.