It's been a week since Damian said he's gone abroad to study further. He's called you maybe three or four times since. One of the times you had everyone from the Academy with you, all talking to Damian on skype at once. Olive and Pom and Maps were the most excited to know what Damian was studying about, again, always changing the subject. One time you even heard somebody in the distance in another room next to whatever room Damian was in. Saying something about something called a titan? Maybe it's about a book, or a show. Maybe it's a classmate being overly excited about something. You don't know, you dind't ask. But the only reason why it brings thought to your mind, is the annoyed look that crossed Damian's face as the voice came into the video. He even had to get up and leave the skype call.

You haven't spoken to Jaime about the chip, but you;ve been having issues with the settings on changing the tone and frequencies in the voices from the recording you have of Robin speaking to you. You put it in, and managed to find the file. It was half corrupted, some water damage actually got into the mechanism of your phone and distorted lots of your files.

Leaving some of your pictures looking awfully creepy, duly noted.

You also haven't seen Cissie around school, and Demetria hasn't shown up for fencing practise along those lines either. Exactly a week, and you spoke to the coach about it too. He said Demetria came forth saying she needed personal time away, taking homework with her so she could go home for a while. Apparently something happened in her family a couple years back that was recently brought up, the coach didn't have much to say about it. Seeing as he spoke like he was bribed not to say anything, by his wandering eyes as if making sure nobody saw him watching him speak about it. You're quick on details of all kinds, he seemed paranoid just being approached by you.

For the past week you've been going to the Gotham Center Public Library, the bookstore doesn't own everything. But it's not exactly like the public library has ancient books about the dark arts. And what you have found is more traditional studies based on the Christian Religion, of which you're already well aware of.

Your dad had a lot of stories, as memorable again. Had a lot to say about lots of things, things you thought him just being cynical about faith being. You never knew you'd think back on it and wonder if the things he said were true. He didn't exactly describe angels as the bright and powdery cloud babies most people see them as. You shake your head at the thought, refusing to believe that ghosts even exist.

What you've found, making you shake your head yet again, on the language called Enochian. It all comes from religion related text. Sifting through the bible once or twice just to make sure you didn't miss anything, turns out you could have figured out more on the internet by googling it rather than taking a peek at the words of the lord. Odd, because again, this all makes you think about the stories your father would tell you when you were little.

Language of the Angels, the first language, Celestial Speech, or the Holy language. It's referred to several different things throughout myth and lore. It's not just language either, apparently it's also a type of magic. Which, makes your head spin. But with the weird things that have been going on around the house lately? It's hard to keep telling yourself that even ghosts don't exist. Most of it, no doubt, is out of spite for your father.

The weird things happening around the house are actually beginning to become frightening.

Shadows behind the window curtains. You got pretty freaked out by this, seeing the shadow of a little girl but looking down at the ground to see no feet? Yeah, call that nightmare fuel. Especially when you went over to pull the curtain, the moment you pulled back the curtain to reveal nothing was there? A crow came plummeting into the window, leaving the clear glass window with a red streak of blood and a crack in it. You cleaned the window, and picked up the bird in a garbage bag and buried it somewhere under the large oak tree in the front lawn. It would have made the trashcan stink, and probably would have attracted feral animals. It still pained you a little bit, but the shock of it all is what frightened you. It was calm, for a split second. Opening that blue window curtain and expecting the body of some little girl to be there. But instead, a crow decided to dive bomb into the window. The crack in the glass is still there, and you had to tell your stepdad that some kids were just throwing rocks. Compulsive lying has also become a habit of yours that you don't know how to control. You don't even think about it, it's as though half the time somebody else is speaking for you.

Sometimes the doors would open and close, you don't usually see this happen. But you'll close the front door at night, and wake up with it wide open. Other times, an officer who's watching on patrol will come over and close it. One time even telling you to knock it off. There's unexplained noises, such as clawing on the walls and scratching. Sounds like nails tapping against a hollow wall from your other side of the door when you sleep. It's odd. And sometimes, you can hear breathing. Telling yourself that it's your own, yet you pull the covers over your head at night.

Cold spots in the house, especially the garage. The lights flicker and make buzzing noises, one time the light in the bathroom just popped and burned out. Glass from the bulb shattered everywhere, and in the darkness you managed to step on a piece. You still have to keep the bandage on the bottom of your foot, it left a bit of an opening in your skin. Painful, and you had to pull out the glass in the dark. Thankfully Lea heard you yell out, and opened the bathroom door and let the light from the hallway seep into the room so it'd make things easier.

The second you saw all of the blood that covered the floor and your hands, you froze up.

You're sitting in the library right now, thinking about all of this. Closing your eyes and trying to remember the slight memory that felt like a flashback. You were just sitting there, on the floor in your own blood surrounded by glass. In that moment you could have sworn you've felt this before. Blinking and seeing images behind your eyes. A dark room, a bright green light from the other side, covered in blood. Feeling the painful burning of open slashes and sharp burns all throughout your body. The corners of your vision becoming fading, a clear sign of bleeding out.

In that moment when you were spacing out in the bathroom on the floor in your own blood, you heard a voice.

'This was not suppose to happen.'

The voice is of a woman's, it's definitely not your mother. But she sounds like one, the concern in her tone. The urgency in her voice as if whatever happened that wasn't suppose to, actually scares her. Worries her. Makes her feel as though if something goes wrong in this, it's terrible. Meaning there was care behind her words of urgency, and worry hidden within them.

You remember feeling someone's hand on your own, as if guiding you. Not a tight grip, but strong enough to keep you from passing out. Keep you focused on something. A feminine hand, of an adult woman. Not a child, not a teenager. A grown adult.

You remember looking at Lea standing in the doorway and seeing someone else. Instead of Lea's average height and fragile stature, you remember seeing a woman. Long brown hair that went to her waist, piercing green eyes that contrasted well with her russet like skin color. Narrowed, not in a glare. But in worry. Again, something you're noticing a lot with her is worry. but the look isn't directed at you, whenever you see this image behind your eyelids, she's always looking at something, or someone, behind you. Like she wants to be angry, but she can't. As if she's worried more so than angered, conflicted as to all of this.

Lea's voice trying to snap you out of your daze, only hearing an accent voice before Lea came over and shook your shoulders, making you snap out of it and deal with the situation at hand. you bleeding with glass in your foot because the lightbulb above head popped. Not something lightbulbs usually do.

You sit in the library, with a stool pulled up to a desk. Leaning forwards on the grey desk, staring outside of the window before you. You're on the fourth floor, so it's quite a sight. But the one thing that always sticks out is Wayne Tower. Kinda hard not to notice one of the biggest buildings in Gotham. It's so far away, but the height makes it so easy to spot out.

Groaning loudly and running your fingers through your hair, pressing your forehead to the desk and shutting your eyes. The cold temperature of the hard surface of the desk seems to cool you down a little bit. Letting your eyelashes brush close your your cheeks the tighter you shut your eyes.

You felt your fingertips extend all the way, straightening your arms against the surface of the desk. The popping in your elbow, the rolling of your shoulder. God, this has been stressing you out so much. Who was that woman? Why did all of that feel so real? Why were you bleeding? And not just from the light bulb. Why the hell did that trigger a memory? The longer you think about it, the crazier it feels. The less likely that it ever actually happened too. But it would make sense, because right after the incident with the lightbulb, you went into your room. You took off your shirt, and stared at the fading scars that would probably only go so far as to remain visible no matter what. The acars feel like they've stopped fading, and lots of them are still there. But what you were feeling in that split second? It made you shiver, because there was a scar over each burning and stinging slash in your skin.

Whenever you think about it, it's like you can feel the phantom pains of something you don't know even happened or not.

You pull your head up, and stare at the sky. It's getting to be night time, which means the Library is going to close in about an hour. The sun is no longer up, and the stars are starting to show in the midnight hues of purple and twilight shades of blue. Letting your eyes rest lazy on the colors, you pull your arms back so they aren't completely extending towards the window.

You make the mistake of moving your arms back too fast, and in term you knock over your bottle of water. Lid off, bottle falling. Half full.

you have a pile of books below you on the underside of the table, where the bottle is falling. It's like everything's in slow motion as your eyes widen and you reach for the falling bottle, your fingertips just barely brush against it.

The light above you seems to flicker just barely, and the sight of someone else's shoes in the corner of your vision and a hand clasping around the bottle is what makes you thankful it dind't fall.

Your eyes rested on the pale hand that held the bottle before you, trailing your eyes up to the arm to see a blonde boy in a green hoodie and faded jeans. He had a blank expression, and amber like eyes with even lighter brown undertones. you could have sworn it was Mason at first, just by the hair. Lea showed up, it's only a matter of time before Mason's parents try and figure something out.

"Thank you," You said, pausing as if waiting for a name to be introduced. The teenager before you, no older than seventeen, exhaled sharply through his nose as if it's an attempt to laugh. I was just walking by, you might want to be more careful with that." He said, voice sounding smooth but restless. As if he'd spent so much time talking that his throat had gotten sore.

"Ancient mythology? Haven't read anything like this in a while." He said, looking over the cover of the book, taking a step closer to the open seat next to you. "May I?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and extending his hand to the back of the seat. you locked eye contact with him, and reluctantly nodded.

"You know about all this?" You asked, pointing to the papers upon papers you had been going through.

"Spare reading, my name's Thaddeus."
"I'm (Y/n).."

**At the hospital, with Lea**

"Laura is so pretty." Lea sits in the chair next to the bed in the room that your mother is staying in. Gently smiling with her palms on her lap, eyes wide in excitement as she stares at the infant being cradled in your mother's arms.

"She was just able to get out of an incubator today. This is actually only my third time holding her." Your mother confessed, smiling sadly as she stared at her daughter below her. A small tuft of almost white blonde hair sticking up and brushing against her cheek. The soft locks only feel like a calm sense to her.

"Oh- I hope you like Orchids, I didn't really know what you liked. Thank you so much for letting me stay, I swear I'll make it up to you eventually-"

"Those were from you? I loved them, honey. You don't have to do anything, you're always welcome here. Though next time I would have surely appreciated a warning?" Your mother stifles a laugh, looking up to Lea with kind and warm eyes. They look tired, but there's also a sense of warmth in them.

Lea wears a denim jacket over a light pink tank top. She figures maybe wearing something nice while visiting your mother is always a good idea. So the white skirt along with black flats, and apart of her already short hair braided back is what she has as her appearance today. Her bangs swept to each side of her face, parted down the middle. Her purse besides her holds the notebook with the enochian lettering and insignia on the front. Unaware of the fact that your mother could easily help.

"Something happened, I just couldn't stay there anymore. My timing is so horrible, if I had known you were attacked I wouldn't have come, I'm so sorry about all of this." Her eyes were watering, and in some way? Lea felt like she was only adding onto your mother's stress. After everything your mother has done for her, all she can feel is guilt.

"Hey, come here." She said, opening an arm and extending it over the blanket while scooting over on the bed slightly, making room for Lea.

Lea only looked up at your mother in shock, wiping her left eye with the back of her hand before coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed. Your mother wasted no time in wrapping an arm over her shoulder and bringing her in for a hug.

Lea just let it all go in that moment. It started with no noise, just the tears beginning the pool in her eyes. But it slowly started to grow into hushed sobs and tears having to be wiped away. Mumbling incoherent apologies, only so she could be shushed until Laura started fussing in her mother's arms.

Lea has a tendency to adopt her friends parents. your parents and Mason's parents are proof of this. It's usually always the mom, though. But she can say that without a doubt that it's been interesting with your step dad around, he always has these crazy ideas and theories about the asylum.

But it's so easy for her to find comfort in all of that because she doesn't remember what it's like to even have a mother. She got sick when Lea was four, and it's kinda hard to be apart of her life when she was completely bed ridden, then in a coma. Also making it easier for her to be in the dark about what Lea's father was doing. But her death set him off.

This is why Lea gets attached so much. It takes a long time for her to trust someone, but once that happens? Everything just happens all at once.

"Lea, would you like to hold her?"
"Oh no you don't have too-"
"I actually need a rest, I've already signalled for the nurse to come and take Laura back to the other room." She says, making a movement with her free hand as if signalling for her to come closer.

Lea deeply inhales, wiping her eyes once more before extending her arms and taking the baby in before sitting back down in the chair next to the bed. Gently placing her palm behind the back of Laura's head, to support her. And using her other arm in the middle of her back while she rests Laura across her chest.

Lea's never held a baby before, and the light smile that crosses her face makes all of her problems seem to go away.

Even if it's not temporary, it's a start.

Before she leaves, she reminds your mother that you'll be in to see her tomorrow. Handing Laura to one of the nurses, and then makes her way back home.

As she's walking past all of the doors in the long hallway, a steady beeping coming from an almost empty room catches her attention. Her curiosity sets in, and she takes a peek.

theres two people that she can see, a teenage girl on a bed with all sorts of IV's hooked into her. She seems to be asleep. Short black hair that goes just below her chin, and a breathing tube hooked around her to help her breathe. She's covered in slashes, it looks that way, Several bandages around the parts of her body that aren't covered in the blanket, or the hospital gown.

All Lea does is blink, and it's like she's watching a memory.

It's almost the exact same as seeing you hooked up to all those machines when you were nine, coming back from your year of studying. Apparently, from what your mother said, you had gotten into a car crash. Sitting right next to the window is what gave you all the slash like wounds. Lea wasn't told much, and she doesn't ask much, but she's not an idiot.

When she opens her eyes again, she's faced with whats really there. Not seeing you there, but this girl. Her stature, from what Lea can see, is fairly athletic. Her skin is pale, like she's lost a lot of blood.

The man sitting in the chair besides her turns to look at Lea between the crack of the open door, finally showing his face.

Once Lea realizes who it is, her eyes widen and she quickly speed walks down the hallway to find the first exit she can find. Her gut doing flips in her stomach out of embarrassment.

What was Bruce Wayne doing at the Hospital?

It's getting late, so getting home is the first thing she needs to do. And the only thing she needs to work on. Still, can't help being curious.