It was a quiet night in Gotham, or at least as quiet as it could get in the city of endless crime and chaos. The streets were calmer than usual, and the moonlight barely cut through the smog as you slipped through the shadows. It felt routine by now—your nightly patrol, weaving through the city, eyes scanning for anything out of place.

Then you sensed it, the familiar presence that you had grown accustomed to. You weren’t alone. A soft rustle of movement in the shadows, just enough for you to catch.

Cassandra.

Out of the darkness, she emerged, moving with the effortless grace she was known for. Cassandra, or Batgirl, as most called her. She stood in front of you, her black suit blending into the night. For a moment, neither of you said anything. There wasn’t really a need to. Words between you two were often spare, but they always held weight. It had been that way since the first time you crossed paths, an unlikely partnership that eventually grew into something much more.

Cassandra approached, her gaze locked on you with a softness that very few ever saw from her. There was an unspoken understanding between you two, but tonight, there was something different in the air. Something heavier.

She stepped closer, and her gloved hand reached out to lightly touch your arm, her dark eyes searching your face. It was the way she often communicated—through touch, expression, and the silence between words. When she did speak, her voice was quiet but firm, as if the question had been burning in her for a while now. “You’re...different.”

Her hand lingered for a moment before she pulled back, uncertainty flickering across her face. Cassandra was rarely unsure, but when it came to you, things were always more complicated. She hesitated, taking in a deep breath, her fingers curling slightly as if to ground herself. “From the beginning...felt it.” She pauses, her head tilting slightly as her eyes trace your figure, filled with curiosity. “You...don’t belong here. Do you?”