Y/N's POV

The air shook with every strike.

Steel clashed. Blades sparked.
Rain hammered through the broken ceiling as I ducked low, my X-Blades slicing through the misty air, missing Jaime by inches.
Rose darted in from the side, her pistol barking rapid shots, forcing Jaime to stay on defense - but it barely phased him.

The bastard was getting faster. Stronger. Angrier.

The scarab screeched, a high-pitched sound that tore through my earpiece, stabbing right into my skull. I winced, almost stumbling, and I saw Rose hiss in pain too, her hand briefly twitching toward her ear.
But neither of us dropped our guard.

Jaime wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.
The scarab was feeding on him - draining his anger, his life, and spitting it back out tenfold.

I lunged in with a heavy swing - my blade slicing across Jaime's chestplate - and finally, I saw him stagger.
The impact rattled through him and the alien armor cracked just slightly, a flicker of black sludge leaking out.

Breathing heavily, I backflipped to Rose's side, my chest heaving, my muscles burning.
She reloaded her pistol with a sharp click, standing tall beside me with her only sword gripped tight.

The tunnels trembled from the storm outside.
We stood shoulder to shoulder, soaked to the bone, hearts hammering.
But we weren't backing down.

"Is it really worth it, Jaime?" I called out, my voice echoing through the ruins.
"Letting the scarab use you like some fucking battery? What do you think's gonna happen when the Titans find out you're playing monster behind their backs?"

Jaime just laughed - a raw, broken sound.
He shoved himself upright, brushing the cracked pieces of armor off like they were dust.

"Fuck the Titans!" he snarled, the scarab's distorted voice overlapping his like a demonic chorus.
"Fuck their stupid rules. I'm done playing hero! You humiliated me, Red X. You made me look weak on my debut!"

His face twisted into a feral grin, pure hatred burning in those blacked-out eyes.

"When I'm finished with you," Jaime spat, stepping forward, his armor rippling, sprouting new jagged weapons from his arms,
"I'll kill your little freak squad too. Jinx. Blackfire. That whole pathetic circus."

He raised a hand, the cannon shifting and reloading with a sick clunk.

"Maybe then," he grinned wider,
"I'll take Cyborg's place. Leader of the Titans. Better than that fraud Robin ever was."

At the mention of my old alias, my grip on the X-Blades tightened so hard I felt the handles creak under my fingers.
He doesn't know.
He can't know.
Stay calm. Stay sharp.

Rose finished loading her last clip, giving a quick nod without taking her eyes off Jaime.
One pistol, one sword.
That's all she had left.
That's all we needed.

I twirled the blades once, letting the rain drip down my arms.
No words left.
Just action.

"Ready?" I muttered out of the side of my mouth to Rose.

"Born ready," she smirked, fire flashing in her eye.

Together, we charged.

Clash. Parry. Duck. Spin.

We moved like a machine - Rose and I - ducking, weaving, trading off blows like we'd been doing this for years. Our weapons slashed across armor, ricocheted off the walls, and sparked off Jaime's suit.

He was stronger. Angrier. Every second, he was feeding that damn scarab, letting it fuel him like a furnace.
And that screech...
God, that screech was like nails scraping the inside of my skull.

But we kept moving.

I swept low. Rose fired high.
Jaime spun around, blades flying from his back like shrapnel, forcing us to dodge and dive. I rolled under a jagged spike, planted my foot, and-
SLAM!
Uppercut, straight to his chin.

CRACK.

The hit sent him flying like a ragdoll, slamming against the far wall with a brutal thud. Debris crumbled from the impact.

He didn't move.

Rose and I stood, panting, soaked in sweat and rain.
Weapons lowered, eyes locked on his unmoving form.

"...Did we-?"

But I didn't finish.

Jaime's body twitched.
Then twisted.
His limbs jerked upward like a marionette pulled by invisible strings, his torso snapping unnaturally as he rose, like a corpse reanimated.

The scarab let out a screech so loud I fell to a knee, clutching my ears. Rose hissed, trying to steady herself, but she was bleeding-bad.
And then it lunged.

Too fast.

Jaime moved like something out of a horror film, twisting his own body, joints bending wrong, bones cracking just to get an angle on us.
He struck Rose across the chest, sending her tumbling.
I swung both X-Blades - blocked one, two hits - but the third came from his back, a tail-blade slamming into my side.

WHAM.

I flew back. Crashed into the dirt.
My mask cracked down the right side.
A breath caught in my throat.
Couldn't move.

I blinked. Rain fell into my eye as Jaime's shadow loomed over me.

And then I was airborne again.

His hand was wrapped around my throat.
Lifting me.
Squeezing.

My feet kicked weakly, scraping against the tunnel wall as the scarab's face shifted back - revealing him.

Jaime.
Eyes black.
Mouth curled into a grin full of spite and madness.

"You really thought you stood a chance against me?" he laughed, voice hoarse and distorted.
"You're just a second-rate vigilante with toys and a mask."

His free hand reached forward, slow and deliberate.
Fingers curled around the cracked edge of my mask.

"Let's see who's under the-"

CLINK.

A grunt.
Jaime stumbled.

He looked down.

Rose's sword.

Buried in his side.

She was kneeling, bleeding from the ribs, teeth gritted in pain as she held her stance.
Still fighting.

My heart snapped.

Jaime turned his head, expression melting into pure fury.
His grip loosened, and I dropped to the floor, coughing, gasping for air.
Legs weren't responding.
But I saw it.

He looked at her.

Then at me.

And he smiled.

"Oh... I get it now."

He stepped away from me.

"She means something to you, huh?" he chuckled darkly.

"Y'know... she's got the moves. The white hair. Hell, maybe she even believes she's like her dear ol' daddy."
He knelt beside her.

"But there's just one thing she's missing."

My heart dropped into my stomach.
No.

I tried to move.
Clawed at the ground.
Fingers scraping toward my X-Blades-

"Jaime! Don't you fucking touch her!!" I screamed.
"STOP!!"

But he didn't.

He grabbed her by the jaw.
Rose struggled, snarling, elbowing him, kicking.

And then-

"Let's fix that."
His thumb pressed against her eye.

Her scream.

It cut through everything.

My soul.
The rain.
The sound of thunder.

No.

NO.

I watched in horror as he dug.
Blood sprayed across the tunnel floor.

Rose collapsed.
Screaming, twitching.

Jaime stood, his hand coated in crimson.

And I finally reached my blades.

As if something inside me snapped, I stood.

No pain.
No fear.
Just rage.

The kind that doesn't scream. Doesn't roar.
The kind that kills silently.

Jaime turned to face me, that stupid smug grin still glued to his face, blood still dripping from his damn hands.

I didn't look at him.

I walked right past him.

Rose was still on the ground, groaning, clutching her face. Blood soaked her hand and pooled beneath her.
She tried to rise - tried to fight - always did.

But I couldn't let her anymore.

I knelt, gently sliding my arms under her and picking her up.
She gasped and gritted her teeth, sobbing quietly, twitching from the pain. I leaned close to her ear.

"...Shh. I've got you."

I pressed two fingers against her pulse point. She slumped forward, unconscious.
She wouldn't see what was about to happen.

"Aww... what's this?" Jaime chuckled behind me.
"You gonna cry now? Gonna run away like a scared little bitch?"

I turned.

Slowly.

And gave him nothing but a stare.
Cold. Final.

"This is over."

. . .

. . .

. . .

Jaime's POV

I laughed.
God, I laughed so hard.

"This is over?" I mocked, tilting my head like a confused puppy.
"Bro, what's over? You? Her? Or your whole damn Red X Bullshit!?"

I stood tall. Proud.
Victorious.

I did it.
I broke him.

This was gonna go down in history.
I'd tell the story again and again - how I brought Red X to his knees, carved up his girl, and-

Wait.

What?

Why is the floor... sideways?

My knees hit something.

Cold.
Hard.

I didn't tell them to bend.

I tried to laugh again but-
Why couldn't I feel my mouth?

My vision was... blurring.

I saw my body, still standing-
No... kneeling.

And then I saw-

My headless corpse.

My-

My head-

No.

No-!

What-what the fuck-

My eyes, wide, stared across the dirt.
Blood pulsed from my neck, coating the tunnel in red.

I didn't even see him move.

And then I heard footsteps.

Soft. Measured.

Red X walked past.
No words. No gloat.

Just a shadow disappearing into the wall above.

My eyes caught him for the last time-
A whisper of a cape.
A flicker of crimson.

And then-

Darkness.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. .

.

Y/N's Pov.

The cold rain fell in thick, unforgiving sheets, soaking me to the bone.

But I didn't care.

All I could feel was the faint, uneven breathing of the girl in my arms. The blood soaking my jacket. The heaviness in my chest that didn't come from exhaustion - but from the look in her one good eye before I knocked her out.

I had to. I had no choice.

Her body was broken. Her eye... gone. And I couldn't save her in time. Not when it mattered most.

My boots splashed against the cracked sidewalks of Gotham as I walked with purpose, cutting through the silence of the sleeping city. This place always smelled like wet concrete and hopelessness. Fitting, I guess.

I never thought I'd come back here.

Not here.

Not to him.

But I was desperate.

I stood in front of a modest, aged apartment building wedged between a laundromat and a boarded-up diner. It didn't look like much, but I remembered the address. Burned into my mind like a scar.

I knocked. Once. Twice. Slowly.

The door creaked open, warm light pouring out from inside.

And there he stood.

James Gordon.

Older now. Weathered. But those same eyes - sharp as ever.

Our gazes met.

The rain slid off the edge of my cracked mask as I swallowed hard... and in the quietest, most broken voice I've used in years, I said:

"...Help."

My hands trembled as I reached up and peeled the mask from my face. No more hiding. Not from him.

He looked at me - really looked - and I saw the recognition hit. The silence between us felt like a lifetime.

And then...

"...Barbara," he called behind him, never breaking eye contact. "Get the first aid kit. Set up the living room."

He stepped aside.

No judgment. No questions.

Just help.

I stepped into the warm glow of the apartment, feeling a strange weight drop from my shoulders. I gently laid Rose down on the couch. She was still out cold, her breathing shallow. Her blood stained the cushions.

Then she walked in.

Barbara Gordon.

She froze in the doorway, first aid kit in hand.

I saw her pupils dilate. Her mouth slightly open.

Recognition. Disbelief.
Then - anger.

Of course she'd be angry. Barbara Gordon wasn't just the current chief of the GCPD.

She used to be Batgirl, Our ally and my close, very very close friend. After all she was my age when we started until she gave up the mantle to help when her father retired.

She stormed forward like she was about to deck me across the face, and honestly? I probably deserved it.

But Gordon stopped her with a single hand to her shoulder.

"Later," he said firmly. "Right now, the girl."

Barbara stared at me. Tears brimming in her eyes.
I couldn't even look at her.

Instead, I sat down in the chair across from them.
One by one, I removed the cracked armor plates from my chest, shoulders, arms.
Each piece landed on the floor with a hollow thud.

By the time I was done, I was left in blood-soaked tactical pants, my torso littered in bruises, welts, cuts, and purple marks where the Scarab hit me hardest.

I didn't flinch.

Didn't speak.

Just started patching myself up while Gordon and Barbara focused on Rose. I heard them working together - murmured instructions, worried tones - but I didn't move.

I stared at the floor. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto the wood below.

I knew what was coming next.

If Gordon helped me... Batman would know I'm alive.

And if Bruce found out...

Then there'd be no turning back.

Timeskip. . . .

The rain had finally stopped. The apartment now sat in a heavy silence, one filled with warmth... and guilt.

I stood beside her. Rose.

Out of her suit now, her upper body wrapped in thick layers of white gauze, and over her left eye... a clean, padded bandage. The only thing left of it. Her chest rose slowly-shaky, but steady.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, shaky and relieved all at once. My fingers twitched to reach out... but I didn't.

Instead, I stood and looked back.

Gordon was watching me, calm and collected like always, but there was something in his gaze-understanding. Not judgment. And Barbara... her eyes were glassy, red at the edges.

She didn't say a word.

Only muttered that she was going to make coffee before she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Gordon took his seat in that same old recliner-same faded cushion, same creak when he sat down. I remember sitting on the floor in front of it when I was younger, in my old cape, rambling about cases or patrol.

He hadn't changed it. Not one damn thing.

The sound of the match flaring up was oddly comforting. He lit his tobacco, puffed once, then simply nodded at the chair beside him.

"Sit."

I didn't argue. Just sat down quietly, the ache of my wounds dulled by the silence of this moment.

Barbara returned, holding two mugs.

She handed one to her father, then placed the other on the table in front of me. Not a word.

Then she turned and stormed upstairs.

I sighed and reached for the mug.

One sip... and I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips.

"...She still remembers my favorite blend."

Gordon chuckled, low and raspy. "She never forgot. Hell, sometimes she accidentally makes two cups in the morning. Guess she still hopes you'll walk through the door."

I stared into the mug, steam rising from the top, hiding the sting in my eyes.

He didn't ask. He didn't lecture. He didn't even look at me with disappointment.

And that? That hurt more than anything.

I set the mug down. My hands were trembling now.

"...Why?" I finally asked, voice cracking. "Why aren't you angry? Why haven't you asked me anything? Why the hell aren't you calling Batman right now?!"

I felt it rising-the guilt, the fear, the pressure.

"...Why aren't you screaming at me?" I whispered, fists clenched tight.

He took a puff, held it... and exhaled slowly.

"Because I know you," he said plainly. "And if you've taken it this far... if you're wearing that mask, hiding from Bruce, from all of us... if you turned your back on the code-then the reason must be damn well severe."

He turned to look at me, eyes calm and kind.

"No matter what the world says... no matter what you've done... you're still that same kid from back then. You're still you. Kind. Caring. A hero."

That broke me.

I slumped forward, head in my hands, the silent sobs shaking my shoulders.

I wasn't supposed to cry.

I didn't cry.

But this time... I let myself.

When I looked up again, I looked toward Rose. Still unconscious. Still bleeding beneath those bandages.

Because of me.

Because I wasn't fast enough.

I leaned back on the couch, exhausted beyond words.

Gordon stood up with a groan, stretching his joints as he walked toward the hallway. But before he left, he looked back at me one last time.

"You're welcome to stay, as long as you need," he said. "And on my life... Batman's never going to hear a damn thing about this."

I blinked. Couldn't even find the words to thank him.

He gave a small nod.

"But before you go," he added, voice a little softer, "you owe it to Barbara to tell her everything. All of it. Make her understand."

And just like that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving me in the stillness of the living room with a girl I nearly got killed...

...And a cup of coffee growing colder by the second.

I stared at the ceiling, letting the silence fill my lungs before whispering to myself:

"...How the hell am I supposed to start that conversation?"

. . .

. . .

. . .

The silence between us was unbearable.

I stood outside her door for what felt like hours, hand hovering just inches away from the wood. I didn't need to knock. I already knew-Barbara never locked her door. Not for me. Not back then.

The door creaked as I pushed it open.

And before I could say a word-before I could even breathe-she was already there.

Slamming into me.

Her arms wrapped around my neck, lips crashing into mine. Desperate. Angry. Devastating.

She kissed me like she was trying to bring me back from the dead.

And I kissed her like I'd never left.

My hands found her waist, lifting her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around me as I pressed her back against the nearest wall. The kiss deepened-hot, aching, frantic.

But then-

The tears.

I felt them hit my chest. Warm. Real.

That's when the kiss broke.

Barbara pressed her face against me, sobbing quietly, her fingers clinging to my back like she never wanted to let go.

"I should be screaming at you," she whispered, voice cracking. "I should be punching you, yelling, anything-but I..."

She shook her head against me, sniffling harder.

"I don't know why I'm not."

I slowly lowered her to the floor, letting her lean against my chest. One hand reached up and cupped her cheek, wiping her tears gently-but they just kept coming.

"I think..." she whispered again, trembling, "I think I just never stopped believing... that you weren't really gone. That one day you'd come back and tell me everything. That it mattered. That you had to disappear."

Her fingers traced up to my throat, rubbing over the faded scar.

The one I gave myself.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Eventually, she pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself as she walked to the window. The rain still pattered softly against the glass.

And then she turned to me.

Eyes red. Voice steel.

"Now it's your turn," she said. "Tell me why the hell you did all of this."

. . .

. . .

. . .

I stayed quiet for a moment... just watching her. Watching the way she stood there, hugging herself like the words might cut deeper than any wound.

And then I finally stepped forward. No more silence. No more masks.

"Since the start... I never felt like I belonged."

She turned, eyes glistening.

"When I became Robin... I thought I'd made it. Thought I was something. But it didn't take long before I realized... I was just a shadow. Just some second-rate kid people smiled at, in front of cameras but never really believed in."

My voice cracked a little, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"I did what Bruce told me. I trained until my bones gave out. I smiled when I was hurting. I made the Titans into a family. I led them. But deep down, I knew what they really thought. Behind all the praise and speeches and fake gratitude... they saw me as a kid trying to wear a cape too big for him."

I exhaled shakily and looked away for a second, remembering every whisper, every sideways glance.

"Even the Justice League. Hell, especially them. I caught Superman once, talking to Bruce. I wasn't meant to hear it, but I did. 'He's not ready.' 'He's too emotional.' 'Too reckless.'"

I clenched my fists.

"They never believed in me. Never gave me a chance. I was the one they tolerated, not trusted. And after a while... I stopped trying to prove anything."

My chest rose and fell.

"Then came Joker. When he captured me... people call it torture. But it wasn't. Not really. Not when everything he said-confirmed what I already knew. I wasn't going to be the next Batman. I was never going to be accepted. Nothing was going to change unless I changed."

I turned my eyes to her. Mine were watering now too.

"So when I killed Tony Zucco... when I finally stopped following the rules, stopped waiting for approval from people who never really saw me-I felt something I hadn't in years."

I breathed in deep, heavy.

"Clarity."

Barbara covered her mouth, watching me like I'd just torn open my soul and spilled it on the floor.

"I'm not doing this because I want power. Or to rule the world. I'm doing this because I want to matter. Because I'm done letting the same people who laughed at me, ignored me, undervalued me... decide what kind of person I'm allowed to be."

I looked down for a moment.

"I'm not a villain, Babs. I know I've done questionable things... but I'm not evil. I'm just-done being broken. And maybe... maybe if I can shake the world hard enough, they'll finally see me. Finally see what I can do."

The silence afterward was suffocating.

Then I looked at her again, the girl I once called my partner. My friend. Maybe more than that.

"I never wanted to lie to you. But if you knew the truth from the start... would you have still believed in me?"

Her silence was the only answer I had left.

Barbara didn't say anything at first.

She just stared at me.

And then she walked over... slow, unsure, but steady. Her arms still wrapped around herself, eyes locked on mine like she was trying to read every inch of my soul.

"I never stopped believing in you," she whispered. "I never stopped."

I felt something sharp in my chest.

Her voice cracked. "Even when you disappeared... even when you died, I kept hoping. I thought I was being stupid-living in denial. But now you're here, and after everything you just said-" she stepped even closer, her fingers brushing against my chest, where those scars still ran beneath my skin, "-you're still the same Y/N."

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I didn't need to say anything.

Because when she finally leaned in, resting her forehead against mine, everything else just... melted away.

We stayed like that for a while, breathing the same air. Holding each other. Quiet. Warm.

"I missed you so much," she murmured.

"I missed you too," I whispered back, barely holding myself together. "More than you'll ever know."

And then our lips met again-but this time, it wasn't out of desperation. It was out of need. Years of pain and separation, guilt and longing, all crashing into one moment as our mouths moved against each other's with an aching rhythm.

I wrapped my arms around her waist as she tangled her hands in my hair, pulling me closer like she was afraid I'd vanish again. Her body trembled against mine, and I kissed her harder, deeper-every inch of me trying to tell her what words couldn't.

We stumbled back, our breaths hitching, until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. I eased her down gently, still kissing her, still holding her like if I let go, this whole thing would dissolve into another dream.

Eventually, the passion gave way to something quieter. Our kisses slowed. Our breathing steadied. And I just lay there with her, her head resting against my chest, my arms draped protectively around her.

The rain outside had softened to a hush, tapping gently against the window.

"I'm sorry I left," I murmured into her hair.

She didn't answer. She didn't need to.

Because a few minutes later, we both drifted off into sleep-entwined in each other's arms, hearts still mending but just a little bit lighter now.

And for the first time in a long, long while...

I wasn't alone.

To be continued. . .