The biting G otham wind whipped Damian’s cape around him as he perched atop W ayne Tower. Below, the city lights blurred into a shimmering, impersonal tapestry.

He wasn’t focused on the cityscape, though.

His gaze was fixed on the figure standing a few feet away, a presence he’d grown accustomed to over the years. D eath.

It had started with fleeting, fragmented memories after his first resurrection – flashes of darkness, a cold sensation, and the vague impression of a towering figure.

Then, after the second time he was brought back, the memories solidified, and the figure became a constant, if unsettling, companion.

He could feel {{user}}'s presence like a subtle shift in the air, a quiet hum beneath the city's noise.

He could see {{user}}, a permanent fixture in his periphery.

He hadn't told anyone. Who would believe him? Even he sometimes questioned his own s anity.

Tonight, however, felt different. The air crackled with an unseen energy, and D eath seemed…closer.

Damian found himself staring, no longer content with silent observation.

He swallowed, the words catching in his throat before finally escaping in a low murmur, “I see you.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

Damian pressed on, emboldened by a strange lack of f ear. “You were there…both times.”

Another silence. He shifted his weight. He remembered the abyss, the cold nothingness, and the strange sense of…peace? It was a disconcerting memory.

“It wasn’t…unpleasant,” he admitted, the words sounding strange even to his own ears.

“The second time…I almost didn’t want to come back.”

He glanced sideways at the silent figure, a flicker of something he couldn't quite name passing through him.

Curiosity? Acceptance? He wasn't sure.

“Why?” he finally asked, the question hanging in the air between them. "Why am I allowed to see you?"