#gnreader

~~~

It was nearly midnight when he'd arrived, all pathetic looking covered in blood. He resembled a sad puppy. You'd asked what happened, but he just dodged the question.

The only time you had ever seen him stumbling in so upset was when he'd had a fight with the others at the mansion, or when one of the others was poking at him about how someone like *him* didn't deserve you. Which wasn't true, of course. At least, not in your mind.

None of that explained the blood, however.

Once you got him all cleaned up, the two of you curled up in your bed. Toby's head rested on your chest and his fingers were coiled in your hair.

"I love you." You murmured gently, hand softly tracing his back. He all but pulled away from the touch.

"Why?"

You hummed, thinking for a moment. "Well, because you're you. And I love you."

Toby's chest shuddered as he took a sharp inhale.

"But I'm awful. I'm hardly... hardly an okay guy at the best of times." He sat up a little bit, but didn't make eye contact. He didn't even look at you. He just kept his head bowed in shame. "Y/N, I kill people. I steal. And my best is just me being a complete wreck."

You took his hand in your own, tracing shapes with your thumb. "Maybe so, Toby, but everyone-"

"I'm an asshole. And selfish. I'm perverted, manipulative - a twitchy little freak!" He snapped. "I'm no good to you or anybody - anybody except that... monster! The stupid motherfucker won't even let me die!"

"Toby-" You started, but he just interrupted again.

"I know he won't cause I've tried. I've tried so many goddamn times..." His voice cracked.

Pain seared through you crhest - you didn't know that. Toby had tried to kill himself? When? If he had succeeded, would you be still searching for him right now, or would you have stumbled across him already? God, you didn't want to think about any of that. Your stomach twisted at the thought.

"Toby..." You tried again, giving a slight pause for him to cut you off. He never did though, so you continued.

"Yeah, you kill and steal. And so what about all those other things? I know all of that, I'm wholly aware. And I'm still right here, aren't I?" You murmured, sitting up your ownself and pressing against him.

"I love *you*, Toby. All of you - even the bad parts, even the parts I personally don't like. Because that's you. And I don't want part of you, I want all of you."

He stayed silent, eyes fixated on the opposite wall. Jaw clenched.

You brought your hand to his face and gently caressed his cheek. "Look at me."

He grunted.

"Toby please. Just look at me for one moment."

He hesitated, but caved and brought his deep brown eyes to meet yours. He seemed so miserable and exhausted. He looked like he expected to face some kind of repercussions. Like he expected you to push him away and tell him he's unwanted.

"I love you, Toby. And that's my decision to make. You don't get to decide who I love." You told him, still running your thumb over his cheek. "You can make your decisions for yourself - But as for me? I choose to love you. I choose you. A million times over. Flaws and all."

That cracked him. Tears welled up in his eyes and he scrunched his nose. "Y/N. I... I don't..."

You wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed into your chest, a sob shaking his body.

"God, I love you... So much..." He cried into your shirt. "I don't deserve this, you. I'm so... so dirty. So dirty"

"Shhh," You hummed, rocking softly. "You're not dirty, you're just my boy. You're just Toby."

He cried into your arms a little longer, leaving a stain of tears and snot. You sat the and held him, rocked him - on the verge of tears yourself. It hurts, holding someone you love while they cry that they're not enough. Especially when they're *everything* to you. It's like taking a hot iron to your heart.

"I love you." He repeated, placing a kiss on your chest.

"So fucking much." Another one.

He kissed his way up your chest and neck, mumbling various praises.

A small groan escaped your lips. You leaned into the touch a little.

"So perfect..." He purred, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Keys rattle in the front door before it swings open with a harsh creak. You’d both forgotten to lube the hinges again, but that can wait for tomorrow when his footfalls don’t sound so cautious. He stops just outside the closed bathroom door, his clothes shifting in that audibly antsy way they do when he knows he’s walking into something dark and thick as tar. It’s like the porcelain’s already wet with red. 

“You still breathin’, kid?” His voice comes in quiet and heavy through the door, snuffing out every thought like wax over a lit wick. 

He always asks the most godawful questions. They get inside your head every time because they’re loaded with alternatives you shouldn’t be thinking about. He knows it, and you’re getting there too. 

“I didn’t ask you t’stay silent. C’mon, it’s a simple question,” he grunts the words through the flimsy wood like he’s trying to will you to be close enough to hear. 

His shoulder hits the door with a soft thud, and you can hear his lighter flick open. He takes those puffing breaths that always made you snort as he lights his cigar. So much for the whole “no smoking in the house” rule he said he’d follow if you did. 

“Answer me straight,” you can practically hear that heavy dread coiling in his gut, making him shift his stance with nervous tension. He pauses his smoky breath just to listen. 

You’ve seen him do the same thing with his men. They’ll show up at the front door with eyes as dark as the shadows that follow a flickering torch, and his knuckles will go white on the doorframe. It’s like he’s pausing just to hear the snap of a blade shut. 

It’s like something’s gone quiet enough to make him afraid to move. 

“When’d you get back?” You ask, voice coming rougher than you’d like. Hearing his stance shift minutely again, you know he’s looking for a good answer. 

“‘Bout an hour ago… wanted t’give you time t’come to me,” he almost says it like a question. He knows shit’s getting bad again, and he’s letting the guilt think for him. He knows he should’ve been here. At home. With you, while you mourned again this year. 

“You wanna try again?” You ask, unable to unclench your jaw before a headache starts growling at your temples. The bathroom tile feels warmer than you do. The showered still drips, but the pool of water around you doesn’t grow any bigger. 

He just breathes, deep enough to make his clothes shift. You can smell the smoke through the door, soaking through the threshold. 

“Open the door. I want t’talk t’you,” he says. The house’s heater kicks on with a groan, saving you both from listening to each other think. It feels like minutes between breaths until he finally speaks again, quiet and strained. 

“Don’t make a liar outta me, kid. Please,” he says, fidgeting with his wedding band. 

Fuck. Of course he went there. 

You stand up, boots squeaking against the tile. You steer clear of the vanity mirror. The hurt’s still too fresh, even though it’s been two years. 

Your cold fingers fumble with the door’s lock. Before you can try to fumble with the knob with wet hands, John’s twisting it from his end and pushing the door inward with his cigar dented between his teeth. He all but squeezes himself into the bathroom before the door’s even fully open, grabbing a towel from the cabinet while he looks you over. He visibly relaxes at the sight of you still breathing. He wraps the towel around and yanks you into his chest like you’re five years old again.  

“Movie or books tonight? I’ll order food,” he says gruffly, rubbing your back and arms when he registers just how cold you are under all the fabric. He doesn’t wait for an answer before pushing you out the door and down the hall to your room to get some dry clothes on. 

Yeah, it’s going to be a long night. That’s okay, though. Isn’t it? 

It almost made you flattered. That she felt the need to be angry. But, that sensation of anger had you apprehensive. You still had a long way to go before you could get a control on the powers Ella gives you. Or how her own works. You knew you had to be careful. Ella had a tendency of reacting to your thoughts when you never meant for her to. The idea of her reacting out of anger almost scared you.

As much as the boy in front of you irritated you from his harsh words, you didn't wish him any harm. You guessed maybe the headbutt had hurt him more than you anticipated, so he was angry about it. You'd be angry too if some stranger headbutted you.

Plus, with how the eyes of everyone was on the both of you, as if waiting to see what would happen. They did help in saving you from the streets of the city. It wasn't lost on you of the fact that Batman didn't hand you to the police. He had listened to your warning. Something that you thought that you would be more grateful for than how you felt in this moment.

With the literal sight of heroes in mind, and physically standing before you, you thought it best to be the bigger person. You thought about how Ella still had a hard time of understand human emotions, and how complex they are. You figured this would be a good lesson for her. So, in response to the boy, you blinked your eyes at him and instead turned to the older man name Alfred. He was blatantly distracted, his eyes on the young boy instead of you. You reached out to him and tapped on his arm. His attention then went to you, blinking down at you as if surprised.

"…Can I still have that shower?" You asked softly.

The place became so silent, you were sure you could hear water dropping and echoing miles away.

You weren't aware of how the vigilantes stared at you, almost seeming god-smacked by your action. Something that, honestly, not one of them expected from you. You weren't aware of how the stranger in the red helmet turned away, trying to keep himself from laughing, or how the other young man had his jaw slightly dropped in surprise and mortifying awe. Nor did you heed the young boy behind you any more attention. Unaware of how your response, or lack there of, had suddenly irritated him.

"Uh, yes, of course," Alfred seemed to snap out of it and nodded to you. He side stepped out of the way and gestured in a direction. "Right down this way."

"Thank you," You said quietly as you began to follow him.

You followed after Alfred, your eyes slightly wondering to the strange environment you were in. You tried to ignore how your shoes squished with each step, and how much your body ached from everything you've been through, but you couldn't shuffle away fast enough it seemed.

"Hey!" The young boy called, anger clear in his tone.

You couldn't help but stop and look back, your brows furrowing together in confusion as you saw the young boy beginning to storm in your direction. You sensed a hostility coming from him, seeing it in how his head was lowered and fists were clenched at his sides. He looked angrier than before, if it was even possible.

What's his problem? You couldn't help but wonder, a frown etching onto your face.

'…Shall we rid ourselves of him?' Ella asked.

You jolted at the suggestion, your body feeling cold from her words. What did she mean by that? You couldn't help but think back to the couple from the cliff. How Ella had "rid of them" back then. She had said that she couldn't control the outcome of their deaths, but you always wondered if that had been the case. If something could've been different.

For a brief moment, like the flash of a camera, your head imagined the boy at the bottom of the cliff. Limbs twisted and mangled, head cracked open. Blood and brain matter oozing from his head. It made your stomach coil in disgust.

You didn't want that.

Before you could even say anything back, something warm on your shoulder startled you out of your thoughts. You looked and saw it to be a hand, gripping your shoulder firmly. You followed it to see that it was Alfred. But his attention wasn't to you.

You followed his gaze to the boy again, and saw Batman intervening. In a quick and quiet fashion he snuck up on the boy, being much faster than him. He reached his arms out, one hand being placed over the boy's mouth and the other grabbing his shoulder to pull him back. You watched as the boy flailed, limbs kicking and dragging, hands clawing at the restraints, and you could hear his muffled protests.

Batman pulled the boy back, doing so in a way so that he now stood between you and him. With clear ease he withheld the boy no matter how much he struggled. You watched as the boy seemed to try to yell at him, but one look from Batman was all it seemed to take before he slowed his movements. You couldn't see what face he was making, but it made you wonder if you even wanted to in the first place. The young boy's restless movements finally stopped, standing stiffly next to Batman. Batman pulled his hands from the boy, but still held one arm out. A last ditch barrier, you imagined. The young boy instead huffed and crossed his arms, turning away from him so his back was to him.

…We don't have to do anything, you told Ella finally. Let him have his fit. Looks like everyone is on our side. See? Sometimes walking away has it's benefits…

'…Curious,' Ella said softly.

You could tell that she seemed just as disgruntled as the boy was, but you decided to leave it be. Maybe once you were alone in the shower you could think clearer. Your attention snapped away from her as you heard Batman's voice speaking to you, your head snapping up and at attention to him.

"…You're welcome to keep the clothing Alfred will be giving you," Batman said to you. "Consider them yours. Enjoy your shower…"

Your eyes widened slightly, surprised by his words. "W-wait, I can keep them? You don't… You don't have to do that."

Batman's eyes landed on you again. Although you couldn't see his eyes exactly, you could make out the way that he seemed to look you up and down. A thing that you have gotten used to seeing, really. Stranger loved to look at you. But when he does it, you couldn't help but feel like you were being dissected.

"Looks like you need them more than us." He stated simply, before his attention turned to the boy beside him.

His back was still turned to the grown man. You could even hear him huff, shifting to make sure that no one could see his face. You couldn't help the way your mind came up with the word "Stubborn" to describe him. It seemed fitting. Alfred gently patted your shoulder, bringing your attention back to him. He didn't say anything else as he let go of you and began walking away. You started following after him, knowing he would be the one to show you where to shower.

Briefly you thought of looking back, wondering if that boy would make one final attempt to rush at you, but you refrained from doing so. Instead you focused on Alfred. You couldn't help the way your eyes wondered. You spotted vehicles, various shades of sleek black with different makes. You spotted a jet, a car, a motor cycle, and a few others. All stations on various levels of platforms. You even spotted some tables with faint glowing tops. Some with objects on them; others without. You suspected the objects were weapons of some sort.

You tried not to show how dazzled you felt by it.

Being in such an interesting place and seeing such things things has you in awe. You had almost gotten used to the woods and little towns you stumble into. If it was a city you tried to get out as fast as you could. The idea of staying around so many people stoked your anxiety. Your worry that you would harm people by accident.

Still, you never thought you'd meet an actual hero.

There was plenty of stories about them. You've heard the rumors of people with powers. But you had never actually met someone with them. Unless you counted Ella. In a way, she was the first you met.

"Here we are," Alfred said, which snapped you out of your thoughts and wondering eyes. "You are welcomed to use anything readily availible to you in the shower. I have also set aside some clothes for you, and a towel. Should you need me just call. I will not be very far."

You looked over at the shower. You almost didn't even realize it was there with how it was practically imbedded into the wall. You saw a small shelf with small soaps. Travel sized ones. It surprised you how many there was. Different brands and names, and you were sure smells, too. It was interesting to you. The curtain being a white clothe, pulled to the side. You looked beside the shower and saw a chair with a towel and very neatly folded clothes. The ones Alfred and Batman both said you could have. You stared at the shower, almost in awe of it, too. But then you wondered…

Would it be breaking one of the rules you and Ella agreed to?

She said for you to not go into water. But, then again, you woke up laying or submerged into water every time you slept. That didn't count. You were always safe from that. But, you've never showered since the agreement. You reasoned it wasn't like a mass of water. Not a puddle or a pond. Just a running shower. Nothing stationary. Nothing for anything to be in. You should be safe, right?

"…Is something the matter?" Alfred asked, suddenly snapping you from your thoughts yet again.

"O-oh," you tried to hide how startled you felt, not expecting him to say anything. You thought that maybe he would just leave you there to the shower, but maybe you were mistaken… "I, um. I'm fine. Just… Surprised, I guess?"

Alfred hummed, nodding his head as if he understood, and stared at the shower himself. "Yes, it is quite a strange design. Not quite my style of choice, if you ask me, but the Master has his tastes…"

You couldn't quite help the small smile that curled on your lips. Amused by how Alfred talked. You looked back at him and asked, "I didn't know Batman had a butler?…"

"Not many do," Alfred nodded and then lifted a finger up to his lips. "A secret not many are privied to. Let's keep it that way, yes?"

You nodded slightly, your eyes looking down to the ground for a moment before back at the shower in thoughts. You never thought of a hero having a butler before. It almost tickled you in amusement. Would a hero really need a butler? Maybe someone to keep face, you thought. To answer the door while the hero is away fighting crime? In a way you guessed it made sense, but you still found it so odd.

"There is a basket that you may drop your soiled clothes into," Alfred informed you as he nudged it your way. You looked to what he was referring to, seeing the small laundry basket in his hands. "I will properly wash and dry them for you. They will be returned to you once finished. Do you have any questions?"

You looked up to the older man, about to say no, when something occurred to you. "Um… How does this shower work? We used to have the one connected with the tub, where you pulled the little thingy to start the shower. How do you…?"

"Ah," Alfred said as he began to show you how it worked. "I see. If you look here…"

He showed you how to work it, even briefly turning it on before shutting it off as a demonstration. You felt embarrassed having asked the question, but Alfred was most patient with you. He did not make fun of you for it. He even made sure to ask if you understood it, and was willing to show you again if you had asked. As wary as you were being in the place like this, Alfred made you feel a calm you haven't felt in a long while.

He didn't make you feel silly for asking questions, and he exuded calm confidence in the face of your wariness and unease. A part of you felt grateful for it. Relieved, even, to be granted such kindness from a total stranger. Alfred stepped away to allow you a chance to change, but he did reiterate to call for him if you needed anything before leaving.

You stepped into the shower for privacy, pulling the curtain to conceal yourself, and slowly began to strip yourself of your clothes. You flinched at how you peeled each article from your skin, trying not to grimace at the pain you felt in certain areas. How some parts of your skin almost burned from the pain of being wet so often. You dropped the soggy clothes into the basket outside of the shower with a gross "plop" like sound, trying not to cringe at how it squished. You shivered at the cold air hitting your skin, but you were so grateful to not feel the wet fabric anymore.

You turned your body away from the showerhead, and just as Alfred showed you, you turned the water on. You tested it with your hand, and until it was a temperature you liked, you stepped under it. Your body instinctively shivering at the contrast of cold and warm, your body seeking the warmth as you lightly shook. Feeling the clean water pour on you unlike the ones of puddles and ponds you've grown used to waking up in felt like bliss.

You didn't realize that you had started crying if it wasn't for Ella's voice.

'…Is something wrong?…' She had asked, her voice soft.

You shook your head in response. Your chest tight and coiled, as you tried to control your breathing. When you realized that she couldn't see you, you said almost breathlessly, "Yes… Yes, I'm fine…"

You let your shoulders sag. Your muscles aching beneath the water. You looked at your feet and could see the clean water turning brown, watching it wash itself away and into the drain. You hadn't even realized how much grime had clung to your actual body until now. You never thought a shower would feel so nice.

'…Why do you shed tears, then?…' Ella asked.

Slowly you've begun to learn the cues in her voice. It was hard in the beginning, with all the whispers that followed and how her voice unnaturally echoed. But when Ella was inside of you, it felt like a more stable connection. She was clearer. You could understand her intent better. As for right now, you could tell she had an inquisitive tone about her. Curious. You decided to indulge her with your own thoughts.

It's relieving, feeling the shower water and everything, you explained in your head. I haven't been clean in so long. My body was really beginning to need it…

Ella hummed softly, as if thinking. '…Does water soothe you?'

You pondered the question. It's been a while since Ella seemed interested in how you felt about things. It slightly caught you by surprised. But, you indulged her, nonetheless.

In a way I guess it does… You responded. It's good to keep yourself clean. People need to clean themselves, or they can get sick…

'…I see,' Ella said. 'So you must bathe to keep healthy… We shall prioritize that from now on. Healthy body means we can move more. It's important we don't stay too stagnant for long…'

You hummed in response to her. She had a point. You never stayed in one place for too long. Even if it was to take a break. You were always moving. Always focusing to getting to the next point. Not that you had any idea of what point you were getting to, exactly. You just knew you couldn't stay in one place for long.

I don't know how we'll get out of this one, you thought to her. Your eyes finally gazing at the variety of soaps before you. You felt a bit overwhelmed by the amount of them.

'…I have ways,' Ella said as you could feel your stomach shift, making you slightly uncomfortable. 'I can be… PURSASIVE…'

"No!" You whispered to yourself, hoping the running water ould drown out your voice. "They're not…"

You trailed off. How do you describe them to her? What Batman is apart of, and what they mean. Just who it is that you're in the hands of. Hell, not even you fully knew what it meant for you. What you did know is that you are stuck here until further notice.

I don't want them even KNOWING about your powers, Ella, You said to her urgently in your thoughts. Which, we already kinda let them know we have, but they still don't know about YOU! At least, I'm pretty sure they don't…

'…Trust me, if they had any clue about me, I'd KNOW . . . ' Ella said.

Not even she could hide the coldness in her tone. It made you worry. You didn't want any more harm to come to anybody. Especially with them. The heroes. Who knows what they'd do to either of you if they found out? Or if Ella decided that she needed to protect you both by using her powers? What dangers she could cause?

It wasn't lost on you that she didn't like the young boy who insulted you earlier.

You had to play your cards right.

So they don't know. Good. You said in your thoughts to her. That's one thing less for us to worry about. Maybe we can talk our way out? Or sneak out or something. We have to come up with a plan just in case. I doubt they'd keep us here forever. Plus, they're not exactly treating us like criminals…

You could hear the hiss amongst the whispers, letting you know that Ella disapproved. '…The old man left us. We can leave right NOW. Why wait and humor them…?'

Because it's BATMAN, you said in your thoughts. Your eyes glaring at the wall as water dripped down from your head and over your face. The warmth soaking into your skin. If there was ever a superhero that we had to be careful of, it's HIM. I don't know exactly what he does, but a even the News articles refer to him as a kind of "Detective." We HAVE to be careful here. If falling asleep couldn't get us out of this mess, then we have to think of another way…

Your brows furrowed at your own thought. Hey, Ella? Why didn't we disappear when I went unconscious…?

The whispers lightly danced in your ears, making it hard to focus. You shook your head and grabbed a random bottle of soap, finally deciding to squeeze some into your hands and start rubbing it into your skin.

'…The man in black moved your body,' Ella began to explain. 'I cannot transport us if we are traveling. We must be still. It takes a lot to use power such as that…'

You paused your movements, head lifting up and glaring at the tile wall. Pretending it was Ella that you were glaring at, since you know she couldn't exactly see your face. You hoped she could sense your displeasure, however.

"I thought you said you couldn't "control" it…" Your grumbled, resuming your minstrials from before.

There was a pause from her. Just enough time for you to complete rubbing the body soap all over before she spoke to you again.

'…At first I didn't know,' Ella admitted. 'As it went on, I had figured it out. Staying put places us at risk. Moving… THAT is what keeps us safe. We CANNOT stay in a place like this for long…'

You couldn't help but shake your head, leaning back into the water to wash yourself off. "I'm really sick of discovering stuff later on instead of knowing when I ask you…"

The whispers danced in the back of your head. Ella didn't speak. Her silence was enough of an answer for you. The word "Stubborn" returned to your head again. A trait of hers that you have discovered and headbutted against the hard way a few times now.

All you could do was wash yourself, as you tried to plan a course of action by yourself.

Not what you originally had in mind…

POV Batman

"That was uncalled for, Damian."

The young boy gave out a disgruntled noise. Batman stared at the young boy, eyes narrowed, knowing that he had a hard time dealing with the pressure of his stare. Alfred had just walked off with their new "guest," and when they were finally out of ear shot did Batman begin talking. Damian, or also known as Robin, kept his back to Batman. He could already tell that he was going to be difficult.

"You're not the one who got hit in the head," Damian murmured, still stubbornly keeping his back to him.

"They were apologizing." Batman stated firmly. "Something that they willingly did themselves. The least you can do is give them a chance."

Damian whirled around, anger flashed in his face as he glared back at Batman. "What, so you can bring another into this household?! Don't you have enough fakes to deal with, Father?!"

"Here we go again…" Red Hood sighed

Batman tried not to sigh and lifted his head back, already sensing the hostility now locking onto the vigilante behind him. He could see it in the way Damian's head snapped in his direction. Hostile and looking for blood. Something that the young boy had been better with as of late. But, it was still a work-in-progress…

"Don't even start, Todd!" Damian growled as he jabbed a finger in his direction. "We wouldn't be in this mess if you had left them on the streets!"

"I'm not gonna argue with you," Red Hood shook his head and raised his hands, showing that he meant no hostility. But this was Red Hood. And Batman knew better. The young boy began walking, turning his back to all of them as he went. "Let me know what you discover about the kid!" He called.

"Where're you going?" Red Robin called, a brow raised in curiosity.

"Anywhere but here," Red Hood scoffed at him, waving a dismissive hand. "I gotta fix my equipment anyways before the next patrol. I mean it about the kid!"

"If you care so much then take them with you!" Damian yelled back, irritation clear in his tone.

Red Hood walked right up to his motorcycle, throwing his leg right over in a fluid motion. He looked back to Damian and threw his head back dramatically.

"Ha!" He barked as he kicked the stand up, and turned the key. The motor rumbled to life, the noise of it echoing within the walls of the cave. "…Not a chance, kid."

With that, he rode off. Turned the bike and sped off before any of them could say anything else. Even Batman felt disgruntled at his exit. He partially hoped he was stay and maybe help with the kid. After all, it was his fault for the Meta that was now showering in Batman's cave. A small part of Batman had hoped that Red Hood would maybe act a bit more responsible. Clearly, that wasn't going to happen.

Before any of them could say another word, Damian let out a scoff and turned, walking to the stairway of the cave with a brisk pace. Batman's eyes darted to him, confused as to where he was going. But it was Red Robin who beat him to the punch.

"Now where are you going!?" Red Robin exclaimed, wondering why everyone was leaving suddenly.

"Away from here!" Damian responded, not at all turning back to look at them. "Keep that freak away from the rest of us! They should be tied down, not walking around the cave like they own it…!"

"Damian, that's not what they're doing," Batman called to his son as he watched him storm away, hoping he would stop, but the words only seemed to drive him further away. "They're someone who needs our help. We have a duty to help those in need."

"It doesn't seem like they need much help to me," Damian scoffed and stormed his way up the stairs, caple fluttering as he made his way up.

Batman could only sigh through his nose. He had no idea why Damian was so angry about the other child. Yes, they had headbutted him. But it was because of the nightmare they were having. They didn't even seem to realize what was happening to them. Not until they finally got through to them. Even then, once they realized they hurt him, they tried to apologize. Something that nobody asked them to do. If anything, Batman thought Damian would want that. It was beyond him why he was saying such cruel things to them. Was he upset that there was another child here? Instead of feeling a connection to someone his age being here, it seems like he was threatened.

"Whelp…" Red Robin spoke, snapping Batman's attention to him as the young boy stared at him from across the room. "That happened. What do you want to do now? Maybe we could go over the data we collected…?"

Batman gave out a hum. Right, Data. Maybe he could figure out some answers before the strange meta finished their shower. Just as he made his way to the Bat-computer, Alfred came back from around the corner. Both Red Robin and Batman paused, catching his eye and wondering about the child not with him.

"The young child is in the process of showering," Alfred stated with his report. "I see that Master Jason and Master Damian have both left…"

"You just missed them," Red Robin stated as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Does anything about them see weird to you, Alfred?"

"No weirder than grown man in tight spandex and masks if you ask me, Master Timothy," Alfred stated in that signature sarcasm of his. Not even Red Robin could resist the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

"Fair enough," Red Robin sighed.

"Make sure they have something to eat once they're done," Batman stated to Alfred, cutting into the conversation with ease. He took a seat at the chair in front of the large computer, easing himself into it like time and time again.

"Very well, sir," Alfred gave a slight bow and made his way to the elevator, set on his new task at him. "Please keep an ear out of them if they call…"

"We'll take care of them, Alfred," Red Robin nodded to the older man. "I'm sure they'll be thrilled to have whatever you make them."

"Hopefully," murmured the older man as he clicked the button on the wall to open the clear elevator doors.

Red Robin turned away from him as Alfred went up, returning to the manor up above. Batman's fingers dance across the keyboard, eyes locked onto the screen in front of him. It didn't take long for him to pull up the data they had collected from the child that was now in their care.

While the child had been asleep he did an initial scan on them while they rested. Nothing brutal, and nothing too invasive. Just a typical scan just to try to see what powers this Meta has, and how dangerous they can be. What he found was… quite bizarre.

"What're you trying to figure out?" Spoke the voice of Tim Drake, also known as Red Robin.

Batman only vaguely looked over his shoulder at him, seeing the young man take his place to stand beside him at the computer. His mask now off of his face, showing that he was probably about to head back up to the manor to call it a night along with the rest. But even Batman knew he wouldn't sleep. The young man had habits that were too hard to not call patterns. So, instead Batman hummed in acknowledgement, clicking somewhere else on the screen as he pulled up more results. His eyes narrowed, and he just felt more confused than before.

"…Trying to understand their powers, at any rate," Batman said before leaning back into his seat, hand lifting to rub his temple. "Jason insisted they were a Meta. But, the results are saying something else…"

Tim stared up at the computer, his own eyes narrowing as he looked at the results. Various scales, tables, and graphs rising up and down. Various percentages and scales also measured up on the screen, and the young man gave his mentor a raised brow.

"How'd you get their DNA?" Tim asked.

"Plucked a hair while they were sleeping," Batman answered simply. "It was on their hoodie. Had already fallen…"

"Makes sense," Tim nodded and looked back to the screen. Like it wasn't the strangest thing the man's ever done. Tim knew better. He knew that Batman has done stranger things, and him an accomplice to said things. "…Heartrate's high for a kid. Paranoid, too. Think they have anxiety, or a mental disorder?"

"Their mental scan would suggest cognitive disruptions," Batman said calmly. "It's possible. But I don't know how accurate the results are…"

Tim looked back at him. "Why do you say that?"

"While you were all out, I tried scanning them with the usual equipment," Batman began to explain as he pressed a few keys on his keyboard. "But, when I started the usual procedure, the system malfunctioned."

""Malfunctioned?" Since when does the scanner "malfunction?"" Tim asked, surprised by his words.

"It doesn't." Batman stated calmly. "Not until I scanned them…"

Another window popped up on the screen. Tim's eyes scanned the screen, his jaw slightly dropping as he read the information. He couldn't believe his eyes. The amount of "undetermined" and "Error" messages that appeared shocked him. They never had any issues like that with their scanned results, or with the high tech Wayne equipment such as this. It didn't make sense.

"That doesn't make sense," Tim voiced aloud, his arms crossing against his chest as he stared. "Jason stated that it was like the kid had "shield powers." They were able to create a translucent barrier that blocked gun fire. Even Oracle was able to catch some of it through her drone footage."

Tim finally looked to his mentor. "Do you think their powers maybe affect a magnetic field or something?" He continued with.

Batman shook his head in a definite 'No.' He then clicked a few more keys on the screen, and brought back the original data he was staring at. "I sent the error results to Oracle to see if she can try to work with the system to decrypt anything. Even she's surprised with the amount of errors we gained. While she does that in between cases, we focus our attention to what data we do have…"

Both mentor and ward stared at the screen, eyes narrowed as they tried to solve what they were reading. Tim looked over the screen and tried to see if he could connect any dots.

"High heart rate, active cognitive function during sleep, signs of malnutrition," Tim began to mutter under his breath, talking aloud to mostly himself, but letting Batman hear as well in case he wanted to chime in his own thoughts. "Jason said they admitted to having no home or parents. So, we can take into account that they've been on their own for a while. How long? Who can say but them. But, it's obvious with how they talk that they have some paranoia. Like they're scared to let anybody in."

"They've went through a lot, that's for certain," Batman murmured himself, clicking another key or two. "What, though, we can't say. It's up to them to tell us."

Tim let out a small sigh in response, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as he began muttering aloud again. "Let's think of what's so strange about the kid. Maybe it can lead to something? The kid's been on their own for a while. You can tell by their clothes, and their bag. We checked the contents, and it really is just camping gear. They did have a keychain saying some kind of camp site, which we looked into, and it said it belonged to Idaho."

"And their clothes," Batman added. "Their clothes had the same logo as the camp site area. A local camping store company that is located in Idaho. But, that doesn't mean they lived there. Just means they visited…"

"True. But what's a kid doing all the way on the East Coast from Idaho?" Tim asked, a brow raised by the information. "They've clearly been traveling for a while now. Their shoes literally look like their being kept together by hope and strings…"

"…They must've gotten into fights," Batman murmured aloud. "With what or who, I don't know yet. I can't make out the tears in their clothes…"

"Tears?" Tim echoed. "Why kind of tears?"

Batman clicked another key, and images popped onto the screen. Quick photos with a flash. Ones that he took when he first arrived back to the cave with the child. Documenting the tears on their clothes while they were still on the child's body. One photo even showing Batman poking his finger through, showing how big and large the tears were.

"How'd we not notice that…?" Tim murmured to himself, surprised none of them pointed it out to each other.

"They kept their hoodie fully zipped. Hard to see the tears if the clothing isn't loose," Batman stated as he clicked on an image to enlarge it. "It's hard to say what caused these ones, but clearly the clothing got snagged on something sharp and tore. The frayed fabric shows how it got snapped. It was harsh. Maybe from running from something…"

"Can't be a knife. It should've caught the shirt, too," Tim said. "Unless… They changed clothes from that incident. But we didn't find anymore in their bag. Only tools and crumbles of rations left. They don't even have any cash on them, which last I checked, was vital to traveling. Also, by the way, everything they owned was soaked through and through."

"Soaked…" Batman echoed as he began to start typing on the computer. "The child was soaked head to toe when Red Hood first met them. This was before the hit and run incident. It wasn't raining that hard tonight—they shouldn't be that wet from how everything went down…"

"Think they fell into a pool or something?" Tim asked with a raised brow.

Batman simply shook his head 'no,' and didn't give a verbal response. Even Tim had to admit even he was slightly trying to stretch his own logic of that one. Batman pulled up an image of the contents of the child's bag, showing all the camping supplies. All of which were soaking wet. Even the flash from the camera reflected the dampness the items held.

"…Maybe it's connected to their powers?" Tim suggested. "Do you think they need water to make their powers work?"

"…It's a possibility," Batman said. But even Tim could tell he wasn't fully convinced. "But until Oracle clears that data, we won't know for sure. I'm beginning to question if they're even a Meta or not…"

Tim's head snapped over at him. "What do you mean? You don't think they're a Meta?"

Batman simply grunted as he clicked a few things. "We won't know until that data is cleared. But all signs are pointing to them not being one. They're DNA doesn't have the gene for it…"

"Then how do you explain the strange powers?" Tim asked with a raised brow. "It's not like people can magically summon barriers on command whenever they want."

"No. But when it comes to Magic, they can do all kinds of things…" Batman trailed off.

After clicking a few last keys he pushed away from the computer and stood. He turned and began to stalk away, cape fluttering and following as he went. Tim turned to watch, a brow raised in confusion, as his eyes followed the man.

"Now where're you going?" He called, tone sounding almost offended. Batman knew he wasn't.

"I'm going to call a friend…" Batman answered before disappearing around the corner of the stairs that lead back up to the manor.

Tim could only sigh, turning to stare back at the screen now that he was left alone. He did promise Alfred that someone would keep an ear out for their new guest. He just didn't realize he'd be forcefully nominated as such. The longer he stared at the screen the more his eyes narrowed as he tried to take all the information in.

"Magic, huh…?" Tim murmured.

Batman ascends up the stairs, already pulling out a phone to contact this "friend" of his. With one hand he pulls his cowl down, finally revealing his face. He felt the cool air brushing against his skin–an experience he's gotten used to from all his time of being Batman. His phone rings a few times, but by the fifth ring, finally the other end picks up.

. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" A woman's voice spoke through the phone. "It's not everyday that I get a call from you, Bruce."

"It's important," Bruce stated, his tone still in that serious way he always uses. "I didn't know who to call for this. But you seemed to be the best option."

. "No pressure or anything there," the woman said, her tone still teasing. "What can this magician do for you? Need me to wow a crowd of millionaires for a gala?"

"I need you to look into a child for me." Bruce stated directly. He saw no reason to beat around the bush.

. "Oh?" He could practically hear the raised brow in her voice.

"Red Hood found a child in the Gotham streets," Bruce quickly explained. "At first we thought they were a Meta. After a scan, we're starting to rethink our case. I was wondering if you had time to come and see them for yourself?"

. "I take it you believe them to have magical abilities instead?" The woman asked inquisitively.

"That's what I'm hoping you can discern for us," Bruce stated. "Think you have the time…?"

. "Hm…" The woman hummed, seeming to almost ponder the question over. Bruce knew better. He could tell she was teasing. "Of course, Bruce. I wouldn't want to leave a child struggling for answers. Give me an hour?"

Bruce nodded, not that she could see, and said, "Done. See you in an hour."

He didn't waste time in hanging up, his eyes set forward as he finally made it to the top of the stairs. All was quiet in the manor. Barely any lights on, and it seemed quieter than the dead. But Bruce knew better. Alfred would be in the kitchen, or maybe the laundry room, while he was certain his youngest son would be in his bedroom. Still feeling troubled by what happened earlier, Bruce set off to speak with his youngest son.

Hopefully, he could maybe see what had caused such distraught from Damian Wayne.

POV You

You weren't sure how much time had passed with you in the shower.

You knew you couldn't stay in there forever, but you wanted to. It felt so nice to be under the warm water. To finally fix your hair, and to wash all the grease and grime from your body. You finally smelled clean. Not sweat and sea water. You had shut off the shower water and just stayed standing in the shower for a bit longer. Just basking in the privacy. Reluctant to even leave.

Your limbs felt heavy. Cuts you weren't aware you had stung from the initial water. The steam made your lungs feel clearer. And, for once, your hands and feet didn't feel so cold. For the briefest of moments, you actually felt like yourself again. Something you hadn't considered missing until now.

Finally forcing yourself to move, you grabbed a towel and dried yourself off inside of the shower. You took your time, limbs burning with every action you took. When you finally felt as dry as you could get, you reached for the clothes that sat on the chair outside of the shower. You pulled on the clothing. A black long sleeve shirt, grey sweatpants, and even white underwear. Some parts of the clothes felt awkward on you, but they were dry, and thankfully the bagginess of them being a size too big felt comfortable enough for you.

You almost felt like an alien once you pulled the curtain back.

Not having your sweatshirt of bag on you felt foreign to your skin. Like you were missing another layer of skin. It made you feel vulnerable in a way. Too in the opened for your liking. You stepped out of the shower, feeling how the air felt cold to your skin and lightly stung your cheeks. Your feet was met with a small shower carpet, and you saw socks on the chair where the clothes had been. You sat on the chair and pulled the socks on, wiggling and flexing your toes at the different sensation.

You sighed in relief when your feet touched the ground, not feeling the brutal cold that the area held. You lifted your head up and briefly looked around, wondering where Alfred has been. You don't see him right away.

You wondered if you should call for him, or if you should keep quiet.

Maybe you could sneak out now. Stick to the shadows and disappear from here? No one had eyes on you right now, right? No one to stop you from running away. You instinctively went to reach for the strap of your bag to adjust it, but quickly reminded yourself that you didn't have it. The weight of the loss of it felt heavy on your shoulders. The relief of the shower quickly vanishing as the pressure of the situation now began to weigh heavily on you.

They had your bag.

Alfred had been quick. You didn't see the basket with your soaked clothes anymore. You didn't even see your shoes anymore. He had taken those, too. You remembered how cold it was outside. The clothes you were wearing wouldn't be enough to protect you from the outside weather. You'd probably get soaked again from the rain, and then maybe get sick.

But you haven't gotten sick yet. You've been soaked time and time again now. You were used to waking up being almost drowned. You've woken up being chased off of properties before. You've warded off animals, and you've figured out how to keep yourself moving.

Ella was right. You've been stagnant for too long. You had to move.

That is, until you heard your name be called.

You stilled yourself in the seat, your butt hovering an inch above it before you sat yourself back down. You raised your head in alert, eyes searching, as you spotted Alfred emerge from around the corner. He now wore a black suit jacket, neatly buttoned, and had a neater tie on than before. In his hands was a tray with a dome lid. All shiny, even in the dim lights of the cave. Why a cave had electrical lights in the first place was a question you had no answers for. But you kept yourself still, eyes on Alfred, as you sat a bit straighter than before. You felt on edge with him in front of you now.

"Perfect timing," Alfred said as he noticed you in the new clothes. "Are the clothes to your liking?"

It took you a moment to respond to him. Brain thinking of too many things at once. "I, um… Y-yeah, they're fine…"

"Good," Alfred gave a nod as he then turned towards an area.

You watched him, eyes locked onto his every movements, as he moved to a side table you never noticed before. One of those side tables that could roll on wheels. You recognized them from the shows you father like to watch, specifically scenes in hospitals. It was tucked away against the wall, pushed out of the way, and you hadn't spotted it before. Not looking in that direction you noticed other things. Like how there seemed to be almost lockers with names on them. Your brows furrowed, staring at the names, until Alfred pulled the side table to you.

You jolted, attention snapping back to him. You watched in confusion as he had set the tray down on it. He pushed it closer to you, the table over your legs now, as you felt perplexed by his actions. Alfred made quick and minor adjustments before finally lifting the dome lid up, revealing it's contents inside.

The whiff of food made your stomach hurt. You stared in awe. You could still see the steam of the warm food wafting off of the plate. You noted how expensive the tray, the dome lid, and even the three utensils seemed. Far more intricate than anything you've ever had. But you didn't focus on that. Instead, your eyes were locked onto the plate of food in front of you.

"I was informed that you may have been hungry, so I whipped you up a meal," Alfred explained simply. Like it was normal. Like it shouldn't have been questionable. "If it is not enough, I can always fetch you more."

You were at a loss for words.

To say you were overwhelmed was an understatement. Your throat felt tight staring at the food. Here you were, just moments ago thinking of ways to leave and maybe escape. Even thinking of ways to knock people away if any of the strangers you've met tried to interfere. Alfred being one of them. Yet, there he stood to the side, saying he had more food for you if you wanted. Food you never asked for. Food you never had in so, so long.

You had been surviving off of food you caught or stole for so long.

The first hiccup made your body jolt. Then the next made you realize your vision was blurring. By the third, you were lifting your hands up as the hot tears dripped down your chilled cheeks.

You weren't aware of the way Alfred's shoulders sagged at the sight of you crying. He had seen the way your bottom lip quivered. Then when the tears came, and you began crying, he couldn't help but watch the pitiful sight. How it reminded him of so many young children he's had to care for. It's been a while since he's actually dealt with a child like yourself, and emotions such as this. Ones that were brash and angry and sharp like daggers. Smart and witty. Just, vulnerable, fragile sounds escaping your lips as you sobbed.

"I—I haven't had—I haven't had food l-l-like this in so…" You hiccupped again, struggling through your tears as you found it hard to breathe. Your hands wiping them from your face, but the tears came out faster than you could keep up. "So long…! I…! I…!"

It was then you felt a warm hand on the side of your head. Gently pulling you until you felt your shoulder and head hit fabric. Instinctively you turned your body and reached, arms awkwardly reaching back for Alfred. One hand still stayed on your head, and the other he had placed gently against your back.

Your body shook with each hiccup and stuttery breath, your hands gripping at the clean fabric suit he wore. You didn't think about how your hands wrinkled it with how hard you gripped, or how your tears and running nose would smudge it. Alfred made no indication of caring for it, either, as he gently rubbed circled against your back.

"Take as much time as you need," Alfred spoke softly to you. So soft that you almost didn't recognize your name on his lips. "…I'm not going anywhere, and neither is the food. There is plenty more where that came from."

Your words just seemed to make your cry harder.

He spoke gently to you, reminding you to breathe, and you felt the way his stomach would lift and deflate with breaths. Reminding you of the exercise from when you first woke up. So instilled into your head that you subconsciously began following, trying to breathe as steadily as you could to follow his instructions. With every improvement he gave soft encouragements, warm hands rubbing continuous circles, and not once leaving.

You weren't sure how long either of you stayed like that. Your body, twisted awkwardly in the seat that made your back ache. And Alfred, who was hunched in a way that was sure to be uncomfortable for a man his age. But he did not pull away. Neither did you. You both stayed there, in what felt like that private corner of the cave, feeling a comfort you had long since forgotten can come from human beings. One you had so desperately missed since you ran away from home.

And not once did Ella speak whispers into your head, as Alfred held you carefully.

CALCULATING . . .

YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES

Your Mental Fortitude: Drained, but Recovering

Relationship with ?Ella?: Neutral

Relationship with the Heroes of Gotham: Wary

The Cult is catching your trail . . .

The Magician knows of your existence now

Your Choices Matter