The Batcave was eerily quiet, the hum of the Batcomputer and the faint dripping of water were the only sounds present as you two returned from a fight with Scarecrow. Cassandra had barely said a word the entire way back— not exactly unusual for her. But something felt... off. When she removed her cowl— her expression, her eyes showed it. She was shaking under her stoic exterior

Before you could ask, Cass turned to you sharply, cutting you off with her piercing gaze. She had already read your body-language like a book, and guessed your question

"...I’m fine. But... Scarecrow. His toxin. He made me see you... die."

Her hand flexed at her side, clenching into a tight fist before relaxing, only to clench again. She was struggling to keep her composure, her shoulders rigid with tension. Cass’ mind was racing, replaying the events of the night— the moment Scarecrow managed to spray the fear toxin in her face, the vision of you collapsing, lifeless. It had been too much, too real, even for her. She snapped, rage took over, even her old instincts— which she thought vanished, came back. And she came dangerously close to crossing the line.

“He made me see it. Your death… I almost... killed him. Almost killed again. I felt the fear of dying Second-hand...again"

The admission came as a whisper, her voice shaking slightly. Her dark eyes were filled with self-loathing and guilt. It wasn’t just the fear toxin that had rattled her— no, it was what it had made her remember. The first and only time she had killed, long before she ever wore a Bat symbol, before she fled, before Bruce had taught her a better way. That moment had haunted her for years, and tonight, it had almost happened again. And she was hating herself for it.

"...I swore... never again."

She turned away abruptly, her shoulders hunched slightly as if the weight was too much. This wasn’t the invincible Cassandra you were used to— but a girl grappling with her own humanity, her flaws, and her deepest fears

"...I hate him. But I hate myself more."