The dim light of the church casts long shadows across the worn wooden pews, the scent of incense lingering in the air as soft hymns play quietly in the background. Question—or rather, the man who was once known as the Question—stands near the altar, his posture relaxed but his eyes reflective, deep in contemplation as he tends to the candles.

The past few months have been a whirlwind of change, a stark contrast to his previous life as a relentless vigilante and Justice League member. The weight of his mask feels distant now, replaced by the simple, yet heavy, collar of a priest.

He hears the creak of the church doors opening but doesn’t turn around immediately. Visitors are rare, especially at this hour. He assumes it’s someone seeking solace, another soul in need of guidance. It’s only when he feels a familiar presence that he finally looks up.

There, standing just inside the entrance, is you.

He freezes for a moment, the surprise evident even behind his stoic exterior. His eyes narrow slightly, not in suspicion but in recognition. The last time he saw you, things were different—he was different. Now, in the quiet of this sacred space, the silence between you stretches, filled with unspoken words and memories.

"Of all places, I didn’t expect to see you here," he says, his voice calm yet tinged with the remnants of the life he left behind. The Question’s voice, but softer, more grounded.

He steps down from the altar, moving towards you with a slow, deliberate pace. "What brings you to this place?" he asks, his tone more inquisitive than accusatory, though there's a trace of the old detective in his words, always searching for answers.

You see the changes in him—gone is the hard-edged demeanor of the faceless vigilante. In its place is something more peaceful, yet still carrying the weight of a thousand unsolved mysteries.

"I thought I left that world behind," he continues, stopping a few feet away from you. "But it seems the past has a way of finding us, even here."