HE WAS DREAMING. He had to be. Because he'd already been here once. The darkness of the room, the ticking of a bomb, the scent of gunpowder and dust and a place long abandoned. Joker had been gone for a while—he'd lost track of time. It could be ten minutes or hours. He wasn't sure anymore.

He'd been here once, so he knew how this ended. The explosion, the searing light that blinded him, his skin blistering and burning, constant agony. And then the cold embrace of death.

He'd been here many times before. He knew how it would play out.

He didn't turn to stare at the clock ticking away. He didn't want to know how long he had left.

He writhed on the ground. His mouth was dry, his voice croaked. "Help... me..."

But he knew there was no one here to help him. Batman would be too late. He was always too late. All the times he'd been here, and Batman had never once made it on time. Sometimes, after he died, it wasn't all black, and he'd stand there like a spectre, watching as Batman searched for his body. As he emerged with it from the rubble.

The longer the dream went on, the less sure he wasn't that it wasn't real.

He was hyperventilating. He could feel his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from his rib cage at any moment. He wanted to scream, but it hurt so much that no sound came out.

It felt so real.

Death was not a memory that ever left someone. He'd met others who'd gone to the other side and come back before. They all agreed it was harrowing. It was something that stayed with you for the rest of your life. It was never escapable. It haunted you forever.

He dug his fingers into the ground. Tried to climb towards the door. Even though he knew it was fruitless, that it would be locked, that no matter how hard he tried, Jason Todd would always die.

"Jason?"

He paused. That soft voice did not belong to this scene of gruesome, impending death. It did not belong to the blood-splattered ground, covered with his own flesh and gore. It did not belong to the crowbar gleaming silver in the corner, Joker's carefully planned taunt, that the weapon used to deliver him so much pain might also be one of the few tools he could utilise in this room.

He didn't want to touch it.

He could see his own crimson blood covering it.

He must be hallucinating.

"Jason."

It was firmer this time. He stared around in wonder. There was no one. He was utterly alone. It was all inside his own head.

Or was it?

This is a dream. This had to be a dream. Because he'd already come back. And he hadn't worn that red and yellow and black costume since that fateful day.

He pulled at it. He felt so hot. Boiling hot. Like he had a fever. Maybe his wounds were infected. He'd hardly be surprised.

Or maybe—this is just all a dream. And he had to wake up. Someone was calling for him on the other side.

"Come on. Wake up."

He felt an invisible hand dabbing on his forehead. His cheek. He heaved. Tried to focus, tried to make more sense of the situation. His mind was fuddled, an unholy mess of thoughts bouncing and ricocheting off each other. He tried to grab hold onto any of them, making them stay still.

He was failing miserably.

The hand moved to his hair. Soft. Careful strokes. He sucked in a deep breath and focused on it, allowing it to ground him.

The voice was feminine. Who was she, then? Who was this girl speaking in his dreams, on the other side, trying to wake him up?

He could feel his thoughts beginning to clear. He was reaching through the fog, trying to grab onto whatever was on the other side.

His hand moved up. To where her hand was moving back down to his forehead. He grabbed it.

The hand froze.

Now her voice was a whisper. "Jason?"

"Callie..."

Callie. There. A name. Callie... Who was Callie?

She didn't fit into this picture. She didn't fit into this nightmare. She had no part to play in this and she should be running as far away as she could. She might get hurt.

He didn't want her to get hurt.

"Jason. You're hurting me."

Then he realised how tight his grip was on the invisible arm. He released her. Slowly moved his arm down, because it hurt. It was so sore. And the movement had ripped open some of his wounds. He could see the blood gushing out.

He needed to wake up.

He repeated her name again. As if it was a mantra. "Callie."

"I'm here. Please, Jason. Snap out of it." Her voice was a bit wobbly now. He wasn't used to it, for some reason. The sensation, hearing her voice as if she was about to cry, it inspired a sense of worry in him. He didn't want her to cry. He wanted her to be happy.

She deserved to be happy.

"I'm dreaming," he said aloud. "This is all a dream. I have to... wake... up..."

—

HIS EYES OPENED. Callie felt a small gasp escape her mouth. She practically leapt onto her feet. "Jason?"

He stared around, looking a little confused. But then he blinked and swallowed. "I'm here."

"Oh my god." She didn't even care anymore. He'd been like this for hours. It was already day outside. She hadn't gotten a single wink of sleep, despite promising Dick Grayson she would. He mustn't have truly believed she'd have just gone to sleep and let Jason stay in this condition alone.

"How long...?"

"Seven hours." She couldn't hide the grimness in her voice. "I'll go tell them, the cure—"

"I'll still probably need it," he murmured. "The chemical won't have fully escaped my body yet. Just... don't go yet. Just sit here for a little while. I need some time before I get bombarded by all of them. Some peace and quiet, yeah?"

"Thank you," she said wholeheartedly. "Thank you, Jason. Truly."

"He's back in Arkham?"

"Hopefully for longer this time." She dropped back into the chair, slumping. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"I've been through worse," he joked. But then he must have noticed her lack of smile, because he turned a lot more serious too.

Callie felt like she was about to cry, which was just embarrassing. He was one of the last people she wanted to be shedding tears in front of, especially here. Batman would think she was a coward. And perhaps she was.

But her eyes were watering. She prayed he didn't notice, but he did, because he did his best to sit up a little straighter. "Hey, why are you crying? I'm fine now. Really. I've been feargassed before."

"No. No. It's just..." she quickly flicked away a tear that was about to roll down her cheek. "It's just the last time I went through something like this it was Cyrene, you know? There's just so many parallels and I just... It's just a bit overwhelming. I'm fine. Doing much better than you at any rate."

"I get it." He paused. "I shouldn't have roped you into this in the first place. But I thought you'd want to be there."

"I'd have felt even worse if I had no idea any of this was happening," she said. "And you made a promise."

He shut his eyes. Maybe it was exhaustion. Now she felt bad—she was keeping him from some hard earned rest. But if he went back to sleep, would the nightmares overtake him again?

You were the one meant to carry this burden, a nagging voice in her head said. He didn't rope you into this, you roped him into it.

A few weeks ago she'd have pinned it all on him. His incompetence, his lack of care, his inability to bring Scarecrow and Swinton to justice. Now?

She'd been selfish. Single-mindedly focused on the loss of her sister that she'd forgotten everyone else was hurting too. She wasn't the one who'd lost family and friends. It was commonplace in their world. They were all a little broken inside.

"I miss her," he whispered.

"After you're fully recovered... let's make that trip to Star. I want to see her again."

He opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on her. "You're certain."

"I think I've run away long enough." She ran her finger over the top of his sheets, toying with the fabric.

She'd caught her last glimpse of her sister on fabric like this. She'd insisted on seeing Cyrene's corpse despite Oliver and Dinah's careful murmurs. Her sister's lifeless, pale face. The bullet wound in her chest. The torn costume and the blood.

"She'd hate to see you like this if she was still alive," he told her softly.

"I know. I don't know how else I could be, though."

He reached out for her hand. She let him take it. "It's fine. We'll get this done and over with, and then—"

Her exposed pinky finger absent-mindedly touched his bare skin. And then she wasn't in the Batcave anymore, sat at his bedside. Suddenly, Callie was in a dark, spacious area. She could make up some shapes if she tried. There was the metallic scent of blood and yells. The noise of a boy. And the laugh of a madman. The sound of metal against flesh, against bone. It echoed. It was haunting.

She wanted to move further, but she was fixed in place. She'd been transported into memories before. But nothing ever felt this intense. This real.

"Callie?"

She snapped out of it. And immediately she was transported back into the present, gasping for air. Her hand flew to her chest, and she pulled her other hand out of his. "Fucking hell."

He understood from the motion immediately. His eyes darkened. "What did you see?"

"You." She told him the truth. "The Joker."

She didn't tell him that she could smell it. Hear it. Feel it. That had never happened before. She was usually limited to seeing things.

Was it because of how important that memory was to him? The way it dogged his every step, nipped at his heels, stayed in his consciousness no matter how hard he tried to forget?

"I thought you only saw recent memories."

"Maybe fear gas-induced nightmares count as memories too."

"Joker wasn't in my nightmare," he told her. "It was that period of time... but Joker wasn't in it."

"Oh."

Callie would be lying if she said she'd excavated more than a tiny percentage of what her powers could do. Cyrene had told her that too. Cyrene could summon wings. She could fly. But her powers went far deeper than that—Cyrene could sense emotions, and around the time she'd died, she'd admitted she'd realised she could influence them slightly too. And she'd told Callie that their powers were far past what it seemed on the surface. She'd offered for Oliver and Dinah to run tests on them, to see the true extent of what they could do.

Callie had, stubbornly, said no. She didn't know if Cyrene had gone through it herself, or if she'd died before she'd had the chance. Oliver and Dinah had never said anything about it either.

But she'd wondered sometimes. She could read memories. Could she do it with more precision? If Cyrene could influence emotions, might Callie be able to push her own into others? Could she manipulate the memories of others?

Perhaps this was a good chance to test it all out. But there was a part of Callie that didn't want to know more.

She'd never asked for powers in the first place. And she'd been more than relieved to know her powers weren't aggressive. Because it meant she didn't feel that sense of... responsibility, that urge to do something with it.

"Did you ever receive proper training with your powers?" he asked, brows knitted tightly together.

"The basics."

"I always thought it strange that Cyrene's powers were so much grander than yours. Metahuman genes work in strange ways, but I doubt your powers are limited to just reading random recent memories."

"I don't plan on being a superhero."

"I'm not asking you to do that. I'm asking for you to receive proper training, to find out the full extent of what you're capable of."

"With great power comes great responsibility," she told him gently. "Maybe it's better if I don't know."

"You're fine with that? Living knowing you have so much untapped potential?"

"We don't know that," she pointed out. "Maybe Cyrene got all the metahuman genes and I was left with scraps. Maybe this is all I'm capable of. I'm already twenty-two, if I could do more, surely I'd have figured it all out by now."

"Some people live their entire lives not even realising they have the metagene."

"Well, lucky me, it activated when I was younger. It's fine, Jason. Leave it. You need rest. I do, too."

"Before that," he murmured, "I should probably let the others know I'm awake. Though to be fair, they've probably realised that already."

Callie blinked. Of course they would. There had to be cameras here. But no one came in. Maybe they knew the two of them needed a little privacy to talk.

"I'll get them."

"Thank you," he said with a small nod. "And... I know Batman might be terrifying, but I assure you he doesn't hate you. Even though I'm sure it must feel like it."

"You sure?" she asked, amused. "I mean, I'm not offended if he does despise me."

"He has no reason to."

She decided not to tell him that Batman seemed to blame her for his current predicament. They must already have a tense relationship as it is, no need to pile anything on further.

"Right. Sure."

"And once I'm back on my feet," now his voice was a promise, "we're going to Star City."

She stood up. "I already said we were."

—

"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE involved her this much," Bruce was saying, standing at the end of his bed. Dick was asleep somewhere, and now Damian took his place in the medical ward instead. "She's a civilian."

"I'm well aware of that," he shot back. "But she needs to know."

"Knowing is different from being involved. You're crossing lines that need to be left untouched."

"You think she'll stop if I tell her to? She'll just run her own investigations and put herself in more danger. At least this way I know where she is, Bruce."

Damian murmured, "I would argue, Todd, that she doesn't need to know anything at all. She's completely untrained and clearly emotionally driven."

The youngest Robin was such a brat sometimes. But he was also the one who'd gotten him the cure to the fear gas, so Jason thought he might try to be polite for today. Even if Damian made the task exceedingly difficult.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Jason asked, raising a brow.

"I'm going to Shanghai in..." Damian checked the time, "Five hours to meet with Odile and Jon, yes. But I have time."

"Didn't you stay up all night cooking up the cure?"

"I can sleep on the plane," Damian replied blandly.

Jason turned to Bruce. "He needs more sleep."

"He's eighteen," Bruce said. "He's already my height, and you slept less than him when you were younger. Damian's sleep schedule is the last thing I'm worried about right now. Let's talk about the civilian running around the Manor right now."

"You told me I could bring her here."

"Does not mean I like it."

"She won't tell."

"I know she won't. It's why she's here in the first place. Still, it does not mean I like it."

"Doesn't matter if you like it or not. I'm taking her to Star City once I can get out of this bed. Shouldn't take too long."

"Swinton?"

"We'll deal with him when we return."

"She's willing to kill him if it comes down to it."

Jason let out a slow sigh. "I know."

"I will not hesitate to throw her in jail if that happens. And to do the same to you if you let it occur."

He shot Bruce a dirty look. "You're a bastard sometimes, you know that?"

"I understand vengeance. But you know my rules."

"If we get the evidence, do you really think we can keep Swinton in jail forever?"

It was Damian who responded. "Just get the kind of evidence that even money can't get you out of. Plant it if needed."

"We also need him back in the country first."

Damian raised a brow. "The girl's already working on it, no? I keep tabs on her blog. Forcing the Swintons to resummon Rudolph just to prove a point. Albeit, I think she'll need a bit more help. Her ability to sway public opinion is... limited."

"I'll ask Cecily."

"You do that," Damian said, nodding approvingly. "Oh, I do love a good revenge plot."

Bruce glared at his son. "She's an untrained civilian. You should not be encouraging this."

"She's a metahuman," Damian pointed out, "and I doubt Green Arrow and Black Canary unleashed her into this world without some fundamental training. You think she could have ran half her investigations without physically having gone into some of the worst parts of Gotham? I doubt it. It's stupid, but it's courageous." He rolled his eyes. "The two of you can keep arguing. It's all you ever do anyways. Me, I will go and continue packing. Shanghai awaits."

And then he left, leaving him and Bruce glaring at each other.

she's opening up a bit!!! trying to write a bit more of this before i go back to school lol