#langbarrier

── .✦ if you want to be added to a taglist, please let me know in a dm, ask, or comment and i'll make sure to add you! the reader is in fact an alien, so the only descriptions will be non-human features (even that will be occasional), otherwise just keep in mind i wrote this as a fem reader, but everything else is up to the imagination. ! (p.s. the tags are langbarrier and language barrier)

✐ᝰ. original content. edawgz 2025.

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 1. First Impressions

Gotham is loud, cruel, and foreign, but nothing unsettles you more than the Red Hood stepping into your path one night. You don’t have the words for thanks, and he doesn’t press for them, but the moment lingers.

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 2. The Stray

You see him again, too soon and yet not soon enough. This time, Jason notices your silence, your careful way of listening instead of speaking, and it bothers him more than he admits. He doesn’t trust easily, but something about you keeps him circling back.

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 3. Understanding

There was no way he could live with himself if he left you anywhere that was unsafe, so he brought you to the only place that he knew would keep you away from whoever was hunting you down.

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 4. Other Worldly

Jason Todd knew that helping you was making things difficult for himself. Yet, when your moment of peace was interrupted and the source of your fear was revealed, he couldn't let it slip trough his fingers

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 5. Breaking Point

no spoilers losers

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 6. Almost There

no spoilers losers

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 7. Love Language

no spoilers losers

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ 8. BONUS CHAPTER

The room buzzed with the usual tension of the siblings and Bruce Wayne gathered around a console, monitors flickering with tactical data and news feeds. Bruce was talking — again — calm, measured, and pacing through some debrief about patrols and Gotham’s shifting crime waves. Dick was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smirking at whatever Tim had just said. Stephanie was scrolling through a tablet, muttering something about patterns in the streets.

Throughout all of the chatter and activity.. Jason wasn’t listening.

He stood by the edge of the room, helmet dangling from a few fingers, and his boot tapping the floor as his weight shifted from one side to another. His mind was somewhere else entirely. You. You were out there, somewhere in Gotham, wandering, oblivious, and probably doing something stupid because you of course didn't just sit still. He could practically see you poking puddles or sticking fingers down a grate, utterly unaware of the danger pressing in around you.

“Jason,” Bruce said, his voice low but sharp enough to snap a whip through the haze in Jason’s head. “Focus. We need your input on-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason muttered, waving a hand, not even looking at him. He rubbed at his temple, still picturing you in the middle of some alley with a strange man who you naively thought was kind. “I know what I’m doing.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “You do know what you’re doing, right? Or are you just pacing around muttering to yourself again?”

Jason gritted his teeth. “I’m not muttering. I’m keeping track, dickhead.”

Tim snorted. “Tracking what? You don’t even have your helmet on. You’re staring at the wall.”

Jason snapped his head toward him, voice low, deadly serious. “I’m tracking her. You don’t get it — you wouldn’t understand. Gotham’s a maze, and she’s out there somewhere, probably chasing shadows or—” He cut himself off, realizing he’d said too much, but not before Bruce’s sharp glance pinned him in place.

“Who?” Bruce asked. Cool, calculated. But Jason didn’t answer.

“Some... weird girl I found earlier. She’s out there,” he said instead, pointing vaguely toward the monitors as though they could somehow reach into the streets themselves. “She doesn’t know the city. She doesn’t know what she’s walking into. We've all seen the guys on those fucking streets. And Gotham itself will eat her alive."

“Jason,” Stephanie interrupted, eyes narrowed, voice sharp. “Are you serious right now?”

He shook his head, frustrated. “I’m dead serious. I can't just turn a blind eye.”

Dick leaned forward, smirking despite himself. “Let me get this straight... you’re ignoring Bruce — correction, Batman — ignoring the mission, and pacing like a caged animal because some girl is out wandering in Gotham like thousands of other people?”

Jason glared at him. “Not some girl. You don’t get it, you didn't see the way she just assumed that a pervert was trying to be nice, and the way she smiled when she saw an Open sign. She’s… she’s—” He stopped again in frustration, the right words failing him. “She’s… not careful, and she’s not scared, and she doesn’t even understand how dangerous it is out there."

“Jason,” Bruce said again, tone flat, precise, and cutting through everything. “The team is trying to coordinate. We need you focused. Now.”

Jason’s jaw clenched and his voice tightened in his throat. “I'm focused. Maybe I have a different goal in mind right now.”

Tim muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless.”

Jason didn’t care. He stared at the monitors like they were a map of her movements, trying to figure out where you might have gone next. Every word from everyone around him just bounced off him. He wasn't sure himself why he was so invested in you...

He had met you for an hour at most, yet in that time your naivety and the way you saw nothing, but good things stunned him. It was concerning and abnormal. He couldn't handle the concept that someone was out there and he had to leave.. leave them to the danger of Gotham.

Jason leaned against the edge of the console, fingers flicking at the trackpad in hopes of something revealing itself, maybe some sort of . Dick crossed the room, arms folded, smirk playing at his lips, but his tone held more concern than teasing this time.

“You’ve been pacing the whole meeting,” Dick said, leaning against a railing beside him with an eyebrow quirked. “I get it.. Gotham’s dangerous, yeah. But it’s not like she’s your official responsibility.”

Jason bristled and looked at him with furrowed brows. “Not officially? I watched her walk into the middle of a fucking street like it’s a playground. You can’t just… not worry.”

Dick sighed, stepping closer, voice quieter now. “I get it, Jay. I do. But maybe you’re looking at it wrong. You’re so wound up about her wandering, about the streets and the chaos, but maybe she’s… different.”

Jason shot him a look, sharp. “Are you seriously trying to tell me not to be concerned about someone? She doesn’t know the city. She doesn’t know the people. She doesn’t know how it moves. One wrong turn and she’s gone.”

Dick’s eyes softened. “I’m not saying she’s not vulnerable. I’m saying maybe that’s why you’re so worried about her. You’ve seen too much, too much of Gotham tearing people apart, and you’ve seen what happens when someone gets lost, especially when someone can’t fight back.”

Jason clenched his jaw. “Exactly. I’ve seen it. And that’s why I’m not gonna let her be one of those stories.” His voice dropped a little, tighter now, rawer. “You think I’m overreacting,” Jason grumbled with an annoyed sigh, causing him to turn his shoulder a bit.

“I didn’t say that,” Dick replied, softer this time. He tilted his head, studying Jason the way he always did, like he was trying to read a book Jason hadn’t agreed to hand over. “I just want to know why. You’ve seen plenty of strays in Gotham. You don’t exactly play babysitter.”

Jason’s jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he didn’t want to give up. But when he closed his eyes, all he saw was you—your wide-eyed way of staring at everything like the world was an endless puzzle, your complete lack of understanding when men cornered you, the way you obeyed him instantly when his voice snapped sharp with warning. Lost. Utterly lost. And Gotham wasn’t a city that forgave lost people.

“She didn’t get it,” Jason said at last, voice low. “Not the danger, not the… anything. Those guys—she thought they were trying to help her. And she just went with them. Like it was normal. Like—” He broke off, scowling, rubbing a hand across his mouth. “She doesn’t know how things work here, and I don't know where the hell she's from get her back because clearly she has no clue what anyone is saying.”

Dick didn’t interrupt. He just nodded slowly, letting Jason keep talking.

Jason pushed on, tone sharper, words spilling now that the wall had cracked. “And it’s Gotham, Dick. You can’t walk two blocks without someone trying to use you, scam you, kill you, whatever."

That got him a longer silence. Dick’s expression softened, the barest edge of a smile tugging at his mouth, not mocking, but something closer to understanding. “So it’s about Gotham,” he said finally. “You don’t trust the city not to crush her.”

Jason snorted. “Would you?”

“…No,” Dick admitted, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t.” He leaned forward, looking Jason in the eye again. “But Jason, you can’t carry that weight on your own. If she’s out there, we’ll find her. You don’t have to play the lone protector.”

Jason let out a dry laugh, humorless. “Yeah, tell that to the pit in my stomach. Feels like if I take my eyes off her for one second, she’ll disappear for good — which she alreadyfucking did.”

For a moment, the two brothers just sat there, the hum of the base filling the air around them. Dick didn’t press further, didn’t push him into saying more than he was ready to. Instead, he just let Jason breathe in that truth, heavy and unshakable, that he cared far more than he wanted to admit.

And Jason hated it. He hated how much he cared... because caring in Gotham was a death sentence.

Jason left the base not long after that talk with Dick, frustration still buzzing under his skin like a live wire. He didn’t care that Bruce had shot him a look or that Tim had muttered something about “always running off.” He needed to move, to do something other than sit around and wait for someone else to get to you first.

Gotham’s streets blurred under his tires as the Red Hood rode through the night, cutting out toward the edges of the city. If you’d been spooked by something or if you’d wandered off without understanding the danger, you might not have gone deeper into the chaos. Maybe instinct had told you to get away, or to push against the tide instead of sinking into it.

He hoped so.

You had walked for what felt like hours, following the faintest tug away from the noise gnawing at your senses. The sound wasn’t something most humans could detect, you picked up on that by the way no one else seemed to wince, to flinch, to clutch their ears the way you had. But to you it was unbearable, a piercing whine piercing beneath the city’s already chaotic pulse that was burrowing into your skull. It made it feel like every step deeper into Gotham was like walking into fire.

So you had turned your back on it.

The streets here were different. It was quieter, the neon had faded into the distance and been replaced by neon thinning into scattered bulbs and dim lamps, shadows stretching longer without the crowd’s constant movement to break them. A rusted fence sagged at your left, weeds bursting through the cracks in concrete. Taking a few short and delicate strides, your eyes lit up at the sight of the subtle green poking through. Of course, you bent to touch them, brushing your fingertips over the brittle stalks, fascinated that something so small could break through something so strong.

A squirrel began to skitter by, pausing at a pile of trash while gathering a crust of a pizza before taking off again. You watched it go, eyes wide, lips parting in something close to wonder.

You found other things too. A broken sign buzzing faintly against a brick wall, letters burned out until only half a word remained. A glass bottle discarded in the gutter, catching light in a way that sent fractured colors rippling across the ground. You picked it up, turning it in your hands, studying the way the light bent and twisted.

You rose from your crouch slowly, bottle still in hand, turning it over in the dim light like it held answers. You pressed your thumb against the glass, let out a wince more of shock than pain when your skin caught on the chipped edge. With a small frown you glanced at the wound in the light of the moon, and then back to the bottle. Your eyes lingered on your thumb watching as the light color that had seeped from the cut had shrunk back in, the wound completely gone now.

With a small smile beginning to form on your lips again, you lifted the bottle to your lips — not to drink the last sip, but to blow across the opening. A faint, hollow note carried out, thin and wavering. You tried again, head tilting, and a smile — brighter than any you'd had before, and lighting up your posture — flickered across your face when the sound deepened.

Jason didn’t ride straight up to you at first once he had spotted who he assumed was you. The second his headlights briefly caught your figure crouched at the street’s edge, he killed the beam and cut the engine, easing the bike into shadow. Something in him wanted to watch, to see what the hell you did when no one was steering you, when you were left alone with the world.

Jason exhaled sharply through his nose when he saw the bottle come to your lips. Playing music with trash. Christ.

You left the bottle on a low wall and moved on, drifting down the sidewalk with a strange, almost childlike wonder. You stopped at a lamppost, eyes narrowing at the faint flicker in its bulb. Then, without hesitation, you reached up, fingertips brushing the metal pole. The light steadied for a moment under your touch before flickering out entirely. You stepped back, blinking at the sudden dark, but your expression didn’t shift to fear. Just curiosity, like this too was something new to catalog.

Jason followed from across the street, keeping his footsteps low, hidden by the hush of Gotham’s outskirts.

A stray dog barked in the distance. You froze at the sound, head snapping toward it, body tensing in a way that made his chest tighten. But instead of running, you crouched low again, pressing your palm flat to the pavement like you were feeling something beneath it. You stayed like that, utterly still, until the barking stopped. Then you rose, satisfied, and kept walking.

Jason cursed under his breath. You weren’t just wandering, you were reacting to things nobody else would have noticed. Listening too closely. Feeling too much. It confirmed every suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind, the ones he kept shoving down.

You paused again a block later, this time at a half-collapsed payphone. The receiver dangled by its cord, scraping the ground with every whisper of wind. The repetitive rasp must have been what drew you, and Jason could see the faint crease between your brows from here. Slowly, you bent and lifted the receiver, holding it up to your ear. Nothing but dead air. Still, you kept listening, lips parted, as if trying to catch something beyond the silence.

That was when Jason finally pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on. He couldn’t take it anymore — the sight of you, so damn lost, poking around the outskirts of Gotham like it wasn’t the most dangerous place on Earth.

Jason dragged a hand down his faceplate, muttering under his breath. “Yeah. Of course you’re playing in the gutter.”

But the knot in his chest loosened all the same.

Jason’s boots hit the pavement hard enough that you finally noticed him. Your head lifted slowly, the receiver still pressed to your ear, eyes wide with the same unflinching curiosity you’d shown the flickering lights, the squirrels, and the weeds splitting through concrete.

He looked massive against the backdrop of Gotham’s skeletal outskirts — helmeted, broad-shouldered, leather darkened with shadow. Anyone else would have bolted at the sight of him, but you only tilted your head, gaze flicking from the glowing red of his visor to the shape of his figure, as if trying to solve another puzzle.

Jason stopped a few feet away, the words biting at his tongue before he even thought about softening them.

“Do you have a death wish?” His voice came out harsh, edged, carrying across the empty street.

You didn’t flinch, you didn’t run, you only slowly blinked once, and let the receiver slip from your hand to swing against the booth with a dull clatter.

Jason sighed and adjusted his gloves, he could already feel his temper wanting to spike, but raising his voice at you wasn’t going to solve anything. You didn’t even understand him at least not the words or the threats.

“Alright,” he said, softer this time, crouching a little so his height wasn’t looming over you so much. “C’mere. Stay close. I’ll walk you back.”

You stared at him, uncomprehending. Then, as if on instinct, you mirrored his crouch with your hands folding neatly against your knees, eyes fixed on him like you were waiting for something else.

Jason let out a short laugh, sharp and laced with humor. “Yeah, great. That’s helpful.”

For a second, he thought maybe he’d lost you completely and that this was useless, that you were just going to keep drifting until Gotham spit you out. But then, slowly, you rose again and took one careful step toward him.

It was enough.

“Good,” Jason said quietly, almost to himself. “Yeah, alright, that’s good.”

The two of you walked back to where he had stored his bike, or at least, Jason tried to make it walking. You kept stopping, drifting toward anything that caught your eye. A plastic bag tumbling down the street in the wind had you pausing, crouching again to press your hand against the concrete as if to feel the ripple of air currents through it. A row of streetlights bending low above a chain-link fence made you reach up, fingertips brushing the metal until Jason barked your name.. well his name for you, at least, since he didn’t have the real one.

“Hey, stray.. no wandering. Eyes front.” His tone was clipped, the same way he’d talk to a rookie, but underneath it was an edge of concern he couldn’t shake.

You obeyed, sort of. You returned to his side when he called, but your eyes kept darting off, hungry for everything.

Jason kept pace, always a step closer than he needed to be, ready to grab you if anything shifted in the dark or leaned too close to the curb. His mind was running through every possibility — a man, muggers, gangs, traffickers, cops with itchy trigger fingers, or worse. You wouldn’t stand a chance against any of it. You probably didn’t even know what a gun was.

Still, for a moment, he caught you staring up at a diner sign buzzing faintly against the night. Your face softened in the glow, the corners of your mouth turning up, almost smiling. And against his better judgment, Jason felt something in his chest unclench.

But then, he caught it before you did. The shift in the air.

A sound threaded under Gotham’s usual hum, so faint that most ears would have dismissed it. But Jason had learned to pay attention to the city’s rhythms, and this sound didn’t belong. It was too sharp, too even, cutting through the chaos instead of blending into it.

Your reaction was immediate.

You froze, body stiffening, head snapping toward the source of the sound. Jason swore under his breath because he didn’t even need to ask. It was the same thing that had spooked you before, the same irritant that had sent you running. He couldn’t hear it fully, not the way you could, but the way your hands went up to your ears told him it was worse this time.

“Hey—hey, focus,” Jason said, stepping in front of you, blocking your line of sight. “Eyes on me. You’re fine. Don't go running off, we'll get you somewhere.”

But you shook your head hard as his words jumbled in your head, clutching at your ears, eyes wide and shining in panic. The sound drove deeper, splitting your focus, and before Jason could stop you, you bolted.

“Dammit!” Jason shouted, sprinting after you.

You were fast — faster than he’d expected — but uncoordinated, weaving down the street, drawn by the instinct to flee the piercing noise that seemed to follow you. Jason chased, shoes pounding, and every curse in his vocabulary spilling under his breath.

Because he could see it now — clear as day. You weren’t just lost. You weren’t just foreign. Something was looking for you.

And Gotham wasn’t the only danger to you.

ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025. part 3 here!

♯┆ 𝟎.𝟏 mlist. 𝟎.𝟐 bat boys collection. 𝟎.𝟑 dc collection.

Jason’s chest still burned from the sprint when he finally slowed, scanning the stretch of road where you’d vanished. His visor swept the shadows, painting the cracked walls and leaning street signs in red, but there was no trace of you. Just the distant hum of the city, muffled here on the edge of Gotham where concrete bled into scrub and abandoned lots.

“Think..” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his helmet. You weren’t trained to hide, not here, but you were fast and driven by something he couldn’t hear. Running blind, and running scared.

He cursed and forced himself to calm down, he accomplished things that were more difficult and posed more of a threat than a girl who was the equivalent to a lost dog. It didn’t take long before he spotted you again, crouched low by a sagging chain-link fence at the lot’s edge. You were breathing hard, shoulders tight, palms still pressed to your ears like the sound was burrowing straight into your skull. The faint neon glow from the city behind him caught your face, and Jason felt something twist sharp in his chest at how lost you looked.

He slowed his pace deliberately, raising both hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “Hey. It’s me.”

Your head jerked up at the sound of his voice, eyes wide, but you didn’t bolt this time. Still, your hands stayed clamped to your ears, body rocking slightly, like you were trying to shake the sound out.

Jason stepped closer, keeping his tone level. “I know it’s loud. I can’t hear it, but I can see what it’s doing to you. So listen.. if you stick with me, I’ll get you somewhere safe. Quieter. You understand me?”

You didn’t answer — of course you didn’t — but your gaze lingered on him, trembling less as he spoke. Jason crouched, meeting your eyes through the red glow of his visor.

“I can’t leave you out here,” he said, softer now. “Gotham’ll chew you up and spit you out. So, you’re coming with me. Alright?”

Something in your expression shifted into a more uncertain, but searching gaze. Slowly, you lowered your hands from your ears, as if trusting him to block the sound by sheer will alone. Jason took the chance, rising and extending one gloved hand toward you.

“C’mon, follow me.”

For a long moment, you stared at his hand. Then, carefully, you stood and stepped forward, close enough that the distance between you was only a breath. You didn’t take his hand, but you didn’t run either. Jason counted it as a win.

“Good,” he muttered, relief curling in his chest as he turned back toward the glow of the city. “We’ll head back in, nice and easy. Stick close, alright?”

You followed, your bare steps light against the concrete, every so often drifting a pace away to look at something strange or feeling too much rocking around your head all at once, but every time Jason glanced back sharply, you returned to his side.

It took longer than it should have, winding through the quiet streets toward where he’d stashed the bike, but Jason kept his patience on a leash. He could see you twitch every so often, head tilting like the sound was still there, faint but gnawing. The thought of dragging you back into Gotham made him hesitate and consider just leaving you on the outskirts, away from the city’s worst.

But no. Whatever was hunting you wasn’t going to stop, and the only place Jason could guarantee protection — real protection — was below Wayne Manor, in the Bat Cave. It was a risk, admittedly, but at this point it was a risk he was willing to take. 

When the motorcycle finally came into view, you paused, tilting your head at the gleaming chrome and black frame like it was a living thing. Jason swung one leg over the seat, resting his hands on the bars, visor tilted toward you.

“Yeah, I know. Looks weird, right? But it’s faster than walking, and you’re riding with me.”

You blinked, uncomprehending.

Jason sighed, patting the seat behind him. “Here. Sit. It won’t bite.”

You hesitated only a second longer before stepping forward and climbing on, your movements awkward but deliberate. You sat stiff as a board, hands hovering above his back like you weren’t sure what to do. Jason reached back, took your wrists gently, and pulled them around his waist.

“You gotta hold on tight, don’t let go, got it?” He wasn’t sure how this would go, but there was no other chance of getting you back safely. From what he had seen so far, if he walked you back to the manor… you’d end up running or following something you shouldn’t have.

The engine roared to life beneath you, and you jumped, clutching tighter which caused Jason to smirk under the helmet despite himself.

“Relax. You’ll get used to it.”

And with that, he turned the bike toward the road, tires eating the distance as Gotham’s dark skyline loomed once more ahead, and one of his hands clasped over yours out of fear that you would let go when you became startled. 

He kept one thought steady in his mind as the Batcave’s hidden entrance drew nearer.. he wasn’t going to let the city — or whatever the hell was after you — get to you first.

The bike roared beneath you, steady and low, the kind of sound that rattled in your bones but not in the same way the earlier noise had. This was controlled, rhythmic, almost like the heartbeat of some great mechanical animal. 

The city lights blurred past, neon and sodium lamps smearing like streaks of paint across the wet asphalt. You turned your head often, distracted by the way reflections bent across glass or how steam curled from vents, and more than once Jason had to tilt the bike just so you wouldn’t lean too far in your fascination. Each small tug at your hands or tightening of his torso was a wordless reminder to hold steady.

At one point, when the streets grew quieter, you raised your face to the night sky. Gotham’s smog dimmed most of the stars, but still you searched, gaze flicking between gaps in the clouds as though expecting something more. Jason caught it in the mirror — the way you scanned above, not around and his jaw flexed in mild amusement.

“Figures,” he muttered under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear over the engine. “Of course you’re stargazing.”

The ride stretched longer, the city giving way to darker outskirts where roads narrowed and lights grew sparse. You shifted slightly, not in fear but curiosity, craning your neck at the sudden stillness of it, at the whisper of trees brushing the edge of concrete rather than the screech of tires against it which was all you could hear earlier. When he finally slowed, pulling into a concealed turnoff that wound into the rocky base of Gotham’s cliffs, you tilted your head at the way the earth seemed to open for him. The entrance was utterly dark and unnatural, it settled a feeling of unease in your stomach, and yet he guided the bike in with practiced ease.

Your hand loosened its grip, one palm brushing against the cave’s stone as the walls swallowed you both. The vibration shifted here and you shivered, pulling your fingers back to hold onto Jason’s jacket with a faint frown. He caught it, despite not commenting, but the glance he shot you over his shoulder said enough. It was a flicker of understanding and a note of warning to himself.

The bike rolled to a halt on the polished stone floor, and the cavern opened wide before you — lights flickering on in a sweep, illuminating vast machines, vehicles lined like beasts waiting to be unleashed, and computer screens stacked high in towers of blue light.

Jason pulled off his helmet, raking a hand through his hair as he swung a leg off. He turned toward you, his voice softer now, measured.

“Alright, this is where it gets tricky.” He spoke like you could understand, even though he knew better. Maybe he just needed to hear his own voice. “They’re not like the guys on the street. They won’t hurt you. But-… well, you’re just gonna have to trust me here, yeah?” He spoke, and it didn’t fall on deaf ears, but you weren’t exactly sure what he was trying to tell you..

You stepped down off the bike and blinked, your wide-eyed gaze pulled upward again as the Batcave hummed to life. It was strange, vast, and brimming with more noise than sound.. Underneath it all, an energy that prickled against your skin, different from the city but just as overwhelmingly new. You shifted, your fingers brushing lightly against the seat, then against your own arm as though trying to soothe yourself.

Jason sighed, watching the way you shrank slightly under the cavern’s looming ceilings. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, bristling against his stubble as he glanced around before looking back to you with eyes narrowed in thought.

“Great,” he muttered. “You look like you’re about to bolt.. again.”

When you caught his eyes, your head tilted just slightly — the same uncomprehending gesture you always gave, but with an honesty that stripped it bare. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you were listening. For some reason, that was enough for him to step closer, hand held out steady between you, waiting for you to decide whether to take it.

Your eyes tracked Jason’s hand, palm open, fingers steady despite the leather creasing around them. You studied it like you might study a foreign object — curious, cautious — before finally lifting your own hand, setting it carefully against his. The contact made him still, as if he hadn’t fully expected you to trust him that easily.

That was when footsteps echoed through the cave. It was sharp, and alarming to you, but to Jason it was more familiar than his own voice. Yet he didn’t let go of your hand, because he knew if he did? You would disappear from sight and he might not be able to find you again.

“Jason.” The voice was calm, clipped, carrying the weight of command even before the owner stepped into view. Bruce emerged from the shadows, cape trailing, eyes immediately cutting to you like twin searchlights.

You stiffened, pulling slightly back at the sudden shift in the air. The cave’s hum deepened, heavier, as if resonating with the man’s presence. Jason instinctively shifted forward, the smallest barrier, not subtle but not aggressive either.

“She’s with me,” he said flatly, though his jaw clenched.

Tim appeared next, sliding down from one of the platforms, his gaze flicking between you and Jason with sharp calculation. “With you? You dragged some stranger into the Cave?” His voice had that younger, biting edge that was incredulous, but layered with concern.

“Not some stranger.” Jason’s voice hardened, and his grip on your hand firmed when he felt you twitch at the unfamiliar voices. “She’s—” He stopped. Words failed him, because what was he supposed to say? You didn’t have a name he knew. You didn’t have a story he could explain. All he had was the truth that you were lost, and that was enough. “She needed help.”

From the far side, Dick’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. His expression was softer, but his eyes widened faintly when they landed on you. Unlike the others, he didn’t speak right away. He let his gaze linger, studying the way you held yourself close, the way your head tilted at every sound as though cataloging them.

Bruce moved closer, and the subtle shift in his weight alone was enough to make you step backward, hand tightening in Jason’s as if that were the only tether you had to safety. Jason felt it — the fear emitting off you, silent but tangible and they all knew it.

“Back off,” Jason snapped before he could think better of it. The sound of his own voice echoed harsher than he intended. “You’re freaking her out.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked to him, unreadable, but he paused, adjusting his stance so it was less direct. If anyone understood the decision Jason was actively making, it was Bruce… but that didn’t mean he thought it was the best idea.

“Jason.” This time it was Dick who spoke, his tone a careful balance between brotherly caution and quiet understanding. He gestured toward you, not harsh, not pressing, just… curious. “She doesn’t understand us, does she?”

Jason’s silence said enough, causing Damian to scoff and begin complaining to Tim about how ridiculous it was to trust someone — let alone someone who clearly had no clue who they were dealing with —  into the cave.

You turned toward a nearby console, drawn to the glowing blue light. The hum of the machines pulled at you and you stepped away, hand slipping from Jason’s without hesitation. He immediately followed, watching as you leaned close, eyes reflecting the scrolling data like fractured stars.

Tim frowned. “She’s just wandering into the tech? Jason, what-...”

“Shut up,” Jason cut him off, his voice low but sharp. He wasn’t looking at Tim, though. His focus stayed on you — the way your fingers hovered over the screen without touching, the way you tilted your head at the rhythm of code like it was music.

For the first time since bringing you here, Jason realized he wasn’t just worried. He was invested. Too invested. Dick had caught that, of course. He always did. 

He stepped closer to Jason, voice pitched low so only they could hear each other. “You don’t usually care this much, Jay. Not about strangers.”

Jason’s jaw worked, the leather of his gloves creaking as his fists flexed. He didn’t look at Dick. He couldn’t. “I know.” he muttered, too quiet for anyone but Dick to hear.

And the way you stood there, bathed in blue light like it belonged to you, brought the question to both of their minds… what was it about you?

You moved slowly, almost floating across the cavern floor, every step careful and lighter than air. The Batcave was enormous, but now that you were in it.. you didn’t flinch at the looming shadows and intimidation of it all. You crouched to press a hand against the polished stone, fingertips tracing the cool surface. The vibrations beneath your palm sent a faint shiver up your arm, and you lifted your head, listening intently to the subtle echoes of footsteps, fans, and distant whirring motors.

Jason stayed close like a silent shadow beside you, watching every movement. He could see the way your eyes widened at the rows of vehicles, the way your fingers hovered over a Batcomputer before pulling back, unsure if touching it would break the strange patterns dancing across the screen.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jason murmured under his breath, not expecting you to understand, but needing to say it anyway. His hand hovered just above yours, ready to stop you if necessary.

You tilted your head, almost mimicking him, a slow gesture of acknowledgment. It wasn’t language, but he understood. You were listening, watching, learning.. but it was all on your own terms.

From across the cave, Bruce cleared his throat. You flinched slightly at the sound, and Jason stepped instinctively between you and the older man. “She’s not ready for dealing with.. you ,” he said, tone sharp but not loud, a shield. “Leave her be for a second.”

Dick stepped closer to Jason, eyebrows furrowed as he leaned forwards and watched you with mild amusement. “She’s not human, dude.. Am I the only one who’s picked up on that?” He asked in a tone that was mildly amused but also curious.

Jason’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what she is. And I don’t care what label you put on it. She’s still someone I can’t leave out there.”

You crouched again, reaching out toward a small mechanical device on a nearby table. The device clicked faintly when your fingers hovered near it, and you tilted your head, eyes wide, fascinated by the interaction. Jason’s hand shot out, just grazing your wrist to stop you from pressing further. You looked at him, eyes questioning, not understanding why he blocked your curiosity.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “I know, I know… it’s amazing. But it’s not yours.”

Your gaze drifted toward the glowing monitors again. Something about the light called to you, and you moved closer, brushing your fingertips across the keyboard. The screen shifted at your touch — lines of code, numbers, blinking markers — and you froze, feeling the subtle hum ripple through the floor again.

Jason’s hands hovered near your shoulders, ready to guide you back, but he didn’t touch you. Instead, he watched you absorb it, letting your eyes dart over every change, every flicker, as though you were learning without language.

Tim, still leaning on a railing, finally spoke up. “She’s… reacting to it. I don’t think she’s just curious. She’s… sensing it.”

Jason’s head snapped toward him, hand flexing. “Yeah. I know, she’s been doing that every time she sees something. Even the shitty Open sign on the corner stores.”

You looked up at him then, eyes wide, unblinking, as if trying to communicate something he couldn’t understand. Jason met your gaze, silent, heart thudding hard. He couldn’t read your words, but he could feel wonder and apprehension mixed into one look.

Jason shook his head slightly, muttering under his breath. “She’s not a problem. She’s… different, but she’s not a threat. I don’t think she’s ever hurt anything in her life.”

Bruce finally stepped forward. “She doesn’t speak English. How do you propose we communicate with her?”

Jason’s eyes flicked to you with a sigh, “I don’t know, I’ll figure it out,” he said firmly. “One step at a time. She’s responsive. She watches. She reacts. That’s how we start.” His shoulders tensed sharply when he felt something tug at the helmet that was still dangling from his fingers. With a look of mild exasperation, he glanced down to see you crouched and staring at his helmet with eyes full of wonder. 

“Alright,” Jason finally muttered, voice low. “Enough exploring for now. Let’s get you somewhere quieter.”

You tilted your head at him, then nodded letting him take the lead. Not because you understood the words, but because you trusted him. Jason’s eyes flicked toward the others — Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian — all watching silently. He gave them a quick shake of his head. This wasn’t their decision. Not yet.

With that, he led you further into the Batcave, deeper into shadows and away from the overwhelming hum of machinery, toward a quieter corner he knew would let you breathe, watch, and begin to understand your new world without the four of them circling like vultures.

He glanced back at the others, who had followed at a cautious distance. Bruce’s expression was unreadable, eyes sharp as ever. Dick leaned against a railing, arms crossed, curiosity clear in the tilt of his head. Tim fiddled with a gadget but kept glancing toward you, silent questions written in his posture.

Settling the heavy door of the training room, the only thing surrounding you now was him and the mats that padded the floors.. Which of course you had immediately wandered from him and leaned down to feel beneath your gentle touch. He took a few steps from you and grabbed a training ball from the ground, then turned back to you and crouched low, lowering himself to your level. He pulled a small object from  a bright red ball, lightweight and easy to throw. He set it on the ground between you, flat on the smooth floor.

You tilted your head, slowly approaching it. Fingers hovered above it before lightly touching it, rolling it a tiny distance. Jason’s eyes softened.

“See?” he murmured under his breath. “You get it. That’s communication, right there. Simple, but it works.”

You pressed the ball closer to him, then nudged it sideways. Your gaze flicked to him, then back at the ball, and he nodded. Not a word, just a gesture and it was the first small bridge between your worlds.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed from the doorway, his large shadowed figure accompanied by Dick’s light posture. “She’s intelligent, that much is clear, but we still don’t know how she perceives danger, or trust, or… anything. She could be carrying-..”

Jason cut him off. “I know, I know. But I’m not gonna scare her by interrogating her like some criminal. She’s not human, yeah, but she’s not a threat, otherwise she wouldn’t have been peaceful with me or followed me..”

Dick smirked slightly. “You’re awfully invested in this one, aren’t you?”

Jason’s jaw worked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed the ball lightly toward you. You caught it clumsily, eyes wide, and then rolled it back with a careful push. A small, silent exchange that brought a smile to your face. 

You nudged the ball again, then pressed a hand flat to the floor, listening to the faint vibrations it made as it rolled. Jason followed your movement with his eyes, silent, aware of the way you absorbed every sensation around you. Not speaking English didn’t matter. Not yet. You were teaching him patience, and he was learning fast.

Bruce watched quietly, then finally stepped back. “Fine. But I want updates. If anything changes, she goes in a secure room. Understand?”

Jason’s grip on the situation tightened just a fraction, not looking at Bruce he gave a sharp nod. “Understood.”

You pressed your face close to the ball now, head tilting in thought, then looked up at Jason. Eyes wide, almost unblinking, Jason exhaled, tension easing slightly and being replaced by a mild sense of amusement. 

The room they had put you in for the night was quiet, far quieter than the hum of the cave and city that were outside, yet it felt like it pressed in from all sides. The lights were dim, the shadows long, but it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t sit still. The air felt… heavy, like it carried a rhythm you couldn’t quite match, and every surface seemed to thrum faintly beneath your fingertips.

You crouched low, fingertips brushing the edges of the bed and the walls, listening. Even through the thick materials of the room, you could feel the faint pulse of machinery, the sounds of power running through the Batcave below as it vibrated through the stone, through your palms, and through the tips of your toes.

Carefully, you pressed your hands against the door. It was locked.. another puzzle, another boundary to understand. You didn’t need words or a key, you could feel the mechanisms inside the door, the way the lock clicked and slid. A subtle shift of your fingers, a faint ripple of your energy, and the lock loosened and swung the door open in one silent motion.  

The cool stone floor greeted your feet, and you practically waltzed through the hallways, going from one side to another with a curious look and faint smile dancing on your lips. Ahead, a faint glow caught your attention — monitors lit, computers humming softly, and a figure bent over one of them. Tim hadn’t noticed you yet, utterly absorbed in his work. You crouched lower, observing him, studying the rhythm of his movements, the way his fingers pressed keys, and once you came into view of the corner of his eye, he flinched before staring at you with a baffled expression.

You didn’t mean to startle him, in fact, his flinch backwards made you flinch backwards as if he had startled you too. You extended your hands slightly, fingertips brushing the stone walls as you let your energy ripple outward. The soft pulse caused a screen to flicker, lights reflecting in the darkness.

Tim froze, fingers hovering over the keys. His head lifted slowly, eyes widening as he realized something was… different. “What-..” he began, voice careful, but you didn’t understand the words. You only tilted your head, small and unthreatening, eyes wide and curious, as though asking him silently if it was safe.

He hesitated, then slowly held out a hand, palm up. Not too close, not threatening, just an offering of peace. You studied it carefully, then mimicked the gesture in your own way, holding your hands out and then bringing them slowly together. It wasn’t speech, but it was understanding.

The lights flickered slightly again as your energy pulsed along the floor, tracing a pattern of vibration that was almost musical, almost alive. Tim’s frown softened. “How can you even.. do that?”

You tilted your head again, gave a small nod, and then stepped forward to explore the space around him. Your hands hovered over consoles, brushing lightly, not breaking anything, just observing. Tim relaxed slightly, leaning back and studying you like you were a puzzle — not a threat, just… fascinating.

You didn’t hear the words he was muttering, of course, but you felt the calm in his presence, the unspoken patience. It was… easier. Easier than the city streets, easier than the rooms where humans waited for explanations you couldn’t give. Here, in the cave, the vibrations spoke to you in a language older than words.

And then off you wandered.

The stone floor beneath your feet echoed with the gentle padding of your feet. You didn’t see him at first. Bruce appeared as a shadow, tall and silent, stepping from behind a column of stone before you could see him. The way he moved made the air feel heavier, colder, even without a word and it caused you to freeze instantly, your senses on high alert due to the subtle change he brought to the room. He didn’t speak when you found him, because he knew he didn’t need to. His presence alone was the embodiment of authority and understood like a universal language. You tilted your head, studying him carefully, unsure if he was a threat or something else.

Bruce raised an eyebrow slightly, his eyes sharp beneath the strands of hair that dangled in front of his tired eyes. You made no sudden movements, hands hovering slightly by your side like you wanted to reach out and understand him, but instead you kept to simply observing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bruce finally said, voice low and even. It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a command either — it was a statement of fact that was precise and unyielding.

You cocked your head, small, silent. You didn’t understand the words, but the vibrations in the air told you he was serious. You stepped slightly backward, tracing your hands along the stone to steady yourself.

Bruce took another step forward, slow, deliberate. You stood on the tips of your toes and leaned backwards with a tilted head. His gaze followed your hands, studying the way you moved, the way you observed, the care you took with every touch.

He paused, and the air felt taut. “You can’t wander unsupervised. The door was locked for a reason. ” he said, more to himself than to you. You tilted your head again, small and unblinking, studying him as carefully as he studied you.

Bruce exhaled softly, creating the only sound in the vast cavern. He didn’t move closer, didn’t make a sudden gesture, instead, he watched you, and for a long moment, the two of you simply regarded one another. No language, no words, just presence.

Finally, he stepped back slightly, giving you room. “Jason’s handling this,” he said, voice quiet, almost to himself. “But… keep moving carefully.”

You tilted your head once more, before smiling and vanishing back into the shadows of the cavern, fingertips brushing the edges of consoles and railings, Bruce lingered for a moment longer, eyes following your path. Then, with a soft exhale, he disappeared into the darkness as well, leaving the cave to its currents — and you to your quiet exploration.

Eventually, the cavern opened into a broader space — a public area with soft lighting, tables, and couches, a place the Batfam sometimes used to gather between missions. The room was warm in comparison to the cold stone corridors, and the gentle light was comforting to your gaze. You crouched by one of the couches, hands resting lightly on the smooth surface, eyes half-lidded as you listened to the faint rhythm of the cave. Your eyelids grew heavier with each slow inhale, the vibrations beneath you lulling you into a state of quiet focus that shifted into rest.

You curled up on the edge of the couch, small and careful, like you were folding yourself into the space rather than claiming it. Your hands rested against your chest, fingers lightly flexing as you absorbed the pulse of the cavern. The lights above flickered softly, and you let yourself sink deeper into the warmth, the hum, the gentle vibrations surrounding you.

By the time Jason arrived in the morning, the Batcave was bathed in the pale, artificial glow of early systems waking up. He moved quietly through the cavern, the sound of his boots muted against stone, scanning the familiar pathways for you.

When he reached the room you ended up resting in, his chest tightened. You were there, curled up on the couch exactly as he had feared you might be — small, vulnerable, asleep in the open. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers twitched lightly as if interacting with unseen currents, made his stomach knot with protective instinct.

He crouched a few feet away, eyes scanning every subtle movement, every rise of your shoulders, making sure you were truly safe. “You picked the worst spot for a nap,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice was soft and careful. He didn’t reach for you at first, instead he just observed, letting himself breathe in the fact that you were alive, unharmed, and no longer left to your own accord in a city not meant for your naivety.

Finally, he shifted slightly, moving closer, careful not to startle you. One hand hovered over the back of the couch, steadying himself as he leaned forward. “Morning,” he whispered, voice barely audible, not expecting a response. You didn’t stir, of course, and he let out a low sigh as he sunk into the couch beside you.

Your eyelids fluttered once before you blinked slowly, head tilting slightly, observing him with that uncomprehending curiosity that had become so familiar. Jason’s chest eased a little.

“How the hell did you manage to undo the lock last night?” he murmured, tone soft, almost scolding himself as much as you. You only tilted your head further, fingers flexing lightly against the couch, testing the air and realizing that you were safe.

Jason watched quietly, understanding that words weren’t necessary, that the silent communication — the small gestures, the careful observation — was enough. He was, however, frustrated that he didn’t even know what words would sound like to you. So he tried something else. He slipped off the couch and crouched low in front of you, bringing himself closer to your level, and lifted one hand slowly, palm up, open.

You tilted your head, eyes wide, observing the gesture. Your fingers twitched, uncertain, almost reaching out toward his hand, then drawing back. Jason’s other hand hovered near a small ball he had retrieved from a training room — bright red, simple, tangible. He set it gently on the couch beside you, then stepped back slightly, eyes fixed on you, giving you space.

You blinked slowly, staring at the ball. Your fingers hovered above it for a long moment before nudging it lightly. It rolled toward him. He let it come, then nudged it back. Back and forth, slowly. He watched every tilt of your head, every twitch of your fingers, noticing how you learned without speaking or hearing instructions.

Jason tapped his chest lightly, then pointed toward the couch. You paused, fingers stilling, head tilting, then, slowly, you mimicked the motion, pressing your hand against your chest before glancing at the couch. His lips twitched slightly into a smile of accomplishment.. This was small, but it was a start. He reached for another object, this time it was a pillow he snatched off the couch, and placed it on the floor a few feet from you. Then he crouched low again, palm up, open, inviting. You watched carefully, then stepped forward, fingers brushing the pillow before nudging it gently toward him. He caught it lightly, nodding with encouragement, eyes softening.

Jason finally leaned back slightly, letting you observe him in silence for a moment. He realized he wasn’t teaching you but you were teaching him. How you processed the world without words, how you learned and adapted and understood in ways humans couldn’t, even without language.

“Good,” he murmured under his breath, though he knew you didn’t understand the word. It didn’t matter. The tone, the gesture, the gentle encouragement — it was enough. You tilted your head, observing him, learning him as he learned you, and for the first time in a long while, Jason felt a flicker of hope that this could work.

The others had gathered in the doorway with that unnerving silent way they could enter rooms, and watched quietly from the shadows. Dick leaned against the wall with raised eyebrows, “Well, she’s learning faster than I expected.” he muttered in pleasant surprise.

Tim didn’t speak, just studied the exchange, frowning slightly. Bruce remained silent, eyes sharp but unreadable.

Jason didn’t care. For now, it was just you and him, building a language without words, a trust without speech, and slowly, carefully, bridging the gap between two completely different worlds.

You tilted your head and extended your hands, palms down, hovering just above the floor. A faint ripple of energy flowed from your fingers, brushing along the pillow and the ball, and Jason felt the subtle vibration beneath him, like a language in motion. You pressed one hand to your chest, then the pillow , then toward him — a gesture that felt deliberate, like a question, or a statement, or both.

Jason tilted his head, mimicking the gesture slowly. “Okay… chest, then pillow, then me,” he said softly, trying to mirror your motions. Your fingers danced, tracing the pattern again, and the ball rolled slightly closer to him as if acknowledging the attempt.

You made a small hum — low, vibrating softly through your chest — and touched the floor lightly with your fingertips. Jason felt the pulse resonate beneath him, steady and rhythmic. He nodded. “Yeah… I get it. You’re talking without words.”

Your hands moved again, tracing arcs in the air, then tapping the pillow, then nudging the ball. Jason followed slowly, hesitating only slightly before mirroring your motions. You tilted your head, observing him carefully, then pressed your palm to the floor again, sending a faint vibration along the stone that echoed slightly.

Jason exhaled, leaning back just enough to give you space. “Alright… I think I’m starting to understand. I mean… not really but we’ll get there.”

You pressed both hands to the pillow and the ball simultaneously, a small, deliberate pulse of energy radiating outward. Then you tilted your head toward Jason, eyes wide, almost challenging him to respond with a bright glint behind your gaze.

Jason reached out slowly, touching both the cube and the ball at once, feeling the pulse of your energy, matching it with his own slight pressure, a silent acknowledgment. “Look at you go, we did it,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You watched him carefully, tilting your head, then nudged the ball toward him once more. Your hands hovered above the cube, fingertips flexing lightly. Jason leaned closer again, observing, matching, echoing — not words, not instructions, just gestures and pulses.

For the first time since he found you, Jason felt a flicker of calm. You were speaking. You were expressing. And, in your own way, you understood him — as much as he understood you.

ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025. part 2 + part 4 here!

♯┆ 𝟎.𝟏 series page. 𝟎.𝟐 bat boys collection. 𝟎.𝟑 dc collection.

Jason didn’t sleep.

He sat on the edge of the couch long after you had curled into yourself, watching the way your fingers twitched in rhythm with the cave’s hum. You weren’t just resting, it looked like you were cataloging everything going on around you like it was a language only you could hear.

The others had drifted off. Bruce disappeared first, silent as ever. Tim lingered longest, eyes flicking between you and the monitors like he was trying to solve a puzzle he hadn’t been given all the pieces to. Dick offered a quiet nod before vanishing into the manor above. Damian hadn’t returned since his initial scoff.

Jason stayed. He didn’t know why, not exactly... maybe it was the way you moved so deliberately, and carefully, like every step was a question. Maybe it was the way you looked at him, not with fear, not with awe, but with curiosity. Like he was something to be understood, not judged.

You stirred just before dawn, eyes fluttering open, head tilting toward the soft glow of the cave’s monitors. Jason leaned forward instinctively, voice low so he didn't startle you.

“Hey. You good?”

You blinked slowly, then sat up, hands pressing lightly to the couch before you stood. Your gaze swept the room, then landed on him. You tilted your head, mimicking the gesture he’d made earlier — palm to chest, then toward him.

Jason raised his eyebrows, equal parts amused and impressed that you remembered. “Yeah, good job.”

You stepped closer, fingers brushing the edge of the couch, then reaching out toward the small red ball still resting between you. You nudged it once, then looked up at him, waiting.

Jason smiled faintly. “You wanna keep playing?”

And as always, you didn't necessarily know what he was saying, but the warmth that settled in your chest spoke volumes. You nodded once, slow and deliberate, and Jason leaned forward, rolling the ball gently back toward you.

The exchange was quiet, rhythmic, like a heartbeat shared between two strangers who had decided not to be strangers anymore.

But the peace didn’t last.

A sharp alert pinged from the Batcomputer, slicing through the silence like a blade. Jason stood instantly, eyes narrowing as he crossed the room. You followed, though you were slower and observing the change in everyone's demeanor.

Tim’s voice crackled through the comms. “Jason. You need to see this.”

Jason tapped the console, bringing up the feed. A grainy image flickered into view, and a figure cloaked in shadow, moving through Gotham’s industrial district made Jason's eyes narrow before looking around the screen. That's when he caught it, the timestamp. It as too recent.

“What the hell am I looking at?” Jason muttered.

Tim’s voice was tight. “It's Cadmus. They’ve been quiet for months, but something’s changed. They’re moving again, and seems like they're not just flying under the radar but they're on the move.”

Jason’s eyes flicked to you. You were staring at the screen, body tense, eyes wide. The hum in the cave shifted, and Jason felt it — a subtle pressure against his skin, like the atmosphere was holding something just beneath the surface.

You stepped forward, hand lifting toward the screen, fingers trembling slightly. Jason caught the motion, the way your body leaned toward the image like it was calling to you.

“Is that what’s been chasing you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, but your silence was loud. Jason turned back to the console, jaw tight. “Tim, send me the coordinates. I’m going out.”

“You sure?” Tim asked. “Bruce said-.. ”

“I don’t care what Bruce said,” Jason snapped. “If Cadmus is trying to lure her in, I’m not waiting for them to knock on the damn door.”

He turned to you, crouching slightly. “You’re coming with me. We’re gonna figure this out.”

You blinked, then nodded once, slow and steady. Jason reached for his helmet, sliding it on with practiced ease, then held out a hand.

You took it delicately, and together, you stepped into the dark.

The ride through Gotham’s industrial district was different this time.

Jason’s bike cut through the early morning haze like a blade, tires whispering across damp asphalt. The city hadn’t fully woken yet, steam curled from sewer grates, traffic lights blinked in empty intersections, and the sky hung low with a bruised grayness that felt like it was holding its breath.

You clung to him more tightly now, not out of fear, but instinct. The vibrations of the engine didn’t unsettle you the way they had before. Instead, you leaned into them, head tilted slightly as if listening to the rhythm beneath the roar. Jason could feel the shift in your posture — less rigid, more attuned — and it made something in his chest tighten.

He didn’t speak because you wouldn’t understand the words, and besides, the silence between you had become its own kind of language.

The coordinates led them to the edge of Gotham’s forgotten bones that was nothing more than a stretch of warehouses and rusted shipping yards where the city’s pulse slowed to a crawl. Jason parked the bike behind a crumbling wall, engine cutting off with a low growl. The sudden quiet felt heavier than the noise.

You stepped off the bike slowly, eyes scanning the surroundings with that same wide-eyed precision. The air here was denser than the cold, safety of the cave.

Jason felt it too — a subtle pressure against his skin, like the atmosphere was holding something just beneath the surface. He reached for his weapon instinctively, fingers brushing the grip, but didn’t draw. Not yet.

“Stay close,” he instructed firmly, and that was all you needed to take a step closer to his side. Your eyes didn't stay on him for long, instead they were drawn to a the warehouse that awaited the two of you.

The building loomed like a carcass — metal ribs exposed, windows shattered, the roof sagging under years of neglect. But something inside was alive.

You paused at the threshold, one hand lifting slowly, fingers splayed. The air shimmered faintly around your palm and a ripple of energy danced across your skin like static. Jason watched, breath held, as you stepped forward and pressed your hand to the rusted door.

It didn’t creak. It didn’t resist. It simply opened.

Inside, the warehouse was a cathedral of shadows. Light filtered through broken panes in fractured beams, illuminating dust that swirled like stars. The floor was littered with debris from shattered crates, twisted metal, old papers curling at the edges, but none of it seemed to matter. Because at the center of the room, suspended in the air like a wound in reality, was the source.

It wasn’t a machine. It wasn’t a person. It was a pulse — a knot of energy that throbbed with a rhythm too precise to be natural. It hovered a few feet off the ground, flickering between colors that didn’t exist in the human spectrum, casting shadows that bent the wrong way.

Against the instincts screaming at you to turn around and leave, there was a part of you that was telling you to go further in. You froze, paralyzed by intrigue and fear, completely unsure of what was in front of you despite the familiarity that it radiated.

Jason stepped in front of you instinctively, one arm raised, body tense. “Is this it?” he murmured, eyes locked on the thing. “Is this what they’re using?”

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t, but your body spoke for you. Your shoulders were tight, breath shallow, fingers trembling at your sides. The hum was louder here, not in volume but in presence. It pressed against your skull, clawed at your thoughts, tried to pull something from you that you didn’t want to give.

Jason turned toward you, crouching slightly. “Hey. Look at me.”

You didn't want to tear your gaze from it, you wanted to figure out what it was and why you were no longer alone, but Jason's gloved hand tapping your chin made you blink in his direction.

“I’ve got you,” he nodded sternly. “Whatever that fucking thing is — it’s not taking you.”

You blinked slowly, then reached out, pressing your palm to his chest. The gesture was deliberate, and effectively grounding you in his presence that you had grown so comfortable with. Jason felt the faint pulse of your energy ripple through his armor, steady and warm.

Then the anomaly shifted.

It pulsed once, violently, sending a shockwave through the room that rattled the walls and sent papers flying. Jason grabbed you, shielding you with his body as the wave passed. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t scream. You just pressed closer, eyes locked on the flickering light and your hands braced on the back of his shoulders.

Jason rose slowly, eyes narrowing. “Fucking hell...”

He stepped forward, weapon drawn now, but held low. The anomaly pulsed again, softer this time, almost responsive. Jason paused, then glanced back at you, except you weren't there. With furrowed brows, he looked to his left then his right.. this was not the time for your curiosity to get the best of you.

But there you were, standing about a foot from the pulse. Slowly, deliberately, you stepped toward the energy, hands raised, fingers splayed, and the hum grew louder, sharper, but you didn’t stop. Jason started to reach for you to pull you back, but something in your posture made him hesitate.

You weren’t afraid. You were answering.

The energy flared once, then dimmed, shrinking slightly as your presence neared. Jason watched, heart hammering, as you lifted both hands and pressed them into the air just beneath the anomaly.

It reacted.

A ripple of light burst outward, washing over the room in a wave of color and vibration. Jason staggered back, shielding his eyes, but you stood firm, bathed in the glow. The hum shifted to something that was no longer painful or invasive, but something that resembled music and resonated even with Jason.

Jason lowered his arm slowly, eyes wide.

You were still standing in the center of the warehouse, bathed in the anomaly’s glow. The pulse had softened now — no longer clawing at you, but responding. It flickered in time with your breath, like it was listening.

Jason stepped closer, slow and cautious. “Are you talking to it?” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t turn. Your hands hovered in the air, fingers splayed, and the energy rippled outward in gentle waves. Jason could feel it — not just in the air, but in his chest there was a low vibration, like a heartbeat that wasn’t his.

Then the pulse shifted. the glow dimmed. The rhythm faltered. Jason’s instincts flared, and he immediately reached for you.

“We need to go.”

You blinked, slowly lowering your hands. The anomaly flickered once more, then collapsed inward — not violently, but like a breath being held. Jason didn’t wait to grab your wrist and pull you towards the door, despite you're remaining intrigue.

Outside, the air had changed too. A low hum vibrated through the ground — faint, but unmistakable. Jason’s jaw clenched.

“I knew this felt like a fucking set up.” Jason grumbled, mentally kicking himself for even letting you get that close, and for not stopping himself once he noticed the clear lack of security. But right now, he didn’t need confirmation. He pulled you onto the bike, engine roaring to life as he tore away from the warehouse, tires skidding across cracked pavement.

Similar to the ride there, the two of you didn't speak on the way back. You just clutched onto him, your cheek pressed against his back and your eyes trying to follow everything you sped past. Jason, on the other hand, was deep in his own thoughts.. trying to come up with some semblance of understanding as to what he just saw.

Back in the cave, Jason immediately took to finding Tim. You followed after him, for once his strides weren't shortened to match yours, so you had to hurry to follow in suit. You were still taking in all of the sights of the cave since it still remained a beautiful mystery to you in so many ways.

Jason pulled his helmet off, his hair tousled and damp making it catch the light in a way that fascinated you. Your eyes fixated on his furrowed brow, his scarred lips which were pulled into a tight line, and his jaw set with a mixture of emotions that you weren't able to put your finger on.

Tim was nowhere in sight when Jason approached the computer causing him to let out a heavy exhale, before turning to face you. He didn't do anything except watch you for a long moment, which you reciprocated with a gaze full of the usual curiosity.

“They’re not just being subtle anymore,” he finally said. “They’re baiting you. That thing? It was a trap. A soft one, but just enough to get you to respond.”

Your eyes narrowed and briefly moved away from him. His emotions were negative, you understood that much, but why? You found something that was like you. You eventually looked up to him with a small frown set onto your lips, before they parted briefly then closed again when you couldn't muster the words you wished to communicate. Their language

Jason exhaled. “I don’t know what they want exactly. But I know Cadmus doesn’t build things to protect. They build things to control and weaponize, and that means they want one thing to do with you."

You blinked slowly, then reached out — not to touch him, but to trace a shape in the air. A slow, wobbly circle, then a tap to your chest. His blank stare made you furrow your brows in frustration before doing it again, this time pointing at your chest a bit more aggressively. You weren't sure if he understood that you understood what happened in the warehouse. You soothed it, it soothed you, and you didn't want to leave it there.

Jason raised an eyebrow, watching the motion. “That’s new.”

You repeated it. Circle. Chest. Circle. Chest.

Jason mimicked it, slower, lips parted as he thought before looking at you with a recognition. “You… feel something?”

You nodded.

Jason’s throat tightened. “I figured. Did you know what it was?” Similar to how he had done to you, you answered his question with a blank look causing him to sigh. His gloved hand raised, he traced the same wobbly circle in the air, and then tapped your temple.

Your eyes lit up and you smiled in relief with an excited nod.

"One of us has really gotta learn how to speak to the other.." He sighed before dropping into the chair usually occupied by Tim.

You took this as a sign to wander a bit, your gentle steps taking you behind the array of computers before hearing a sharp. "Watch it." From Jason causing your hand to retreat, stepping back over to him with a sheepish look. Though he wouldn't admit it, you were one of the most amusing people he'd met. And he was very thankful that chin was rested on his hand and so the smile that was tugging at his lips was hidden.

After a moment of deliberation, you padded over to him and sat in the other chair at the desk. A frown tugged at your lips as the distance between you two finally registered, so you did the only thing you could think of.. kick off of the ground and slowly scoot your way over to his side. You still don't understand why some of the things here were so inconvenient.

You stared at him for a moment. The way his eyes were closed, his lashes brushing the skin below his eyes, the etched creases from frustration had softened, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest matching yours.

Against your better judgement, you reached out and pressed two fingers to his wrist — not hard, just enough to feel the pulse beneath his skin. Jason froze, eyes fluttering open and flicking to yours. You tilted your head before your eyes shut, your focus on one thing and one thing alone.. him.

The warmth from his skin contrasting with the cool of yours, the steady beat of his heart grounding you and releasing the tension in your shoulders. You let out a soft hum of content which made Jason's eyebrows raise, he could understand that even though it was just a sound it was something he understood.

After a minute of just existing, your eyes blinked open and you leaned your head against his shoulder, slow and careful, like you were testing the weight of trust. Jason didn’t move. He just let you rest there with your eyes looking at everything that caught your attention, from the shimmer of the metallic surfaces, to the harshness that laid in each edge of the rocky walls.

Outside, Cadmus was moving. The city was shifting. But in that moment, in that quiet corner of the Batcave, you were safe. And in that moment, Jason let his mind wander from what to do next, and allowed himself to just exist in your presence.

ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025.

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