The Batfamily always assumed you were fine. You had to be—because you never let them see otherwise. You laughed at their jokes, patched up your wounds without complaint, and always followed orders. You were one of them.

Until tonight.

The mission had been a success. The team returned to the Batcave in one piece, debriefing, talking, moving on—like always. But you weren’t moving on.

You stood in the locker room, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your suit was torn, blood still drying on the fabric. Your hands shook at your sides. There was a crack in the glass, right where your reflection’s face was.

It didn’t feel like you staring back.

You could still hear the fight in your head—the way the enemy taunted you, the way their voice had slithered into your mind and wrapped around an old wound you thought had healed. They know. They see through you.

A door creaked open behind you.

“You good?” It was Jason. Casual tone, but too careful. He had noticed something.

You clenched your jaw. Nodded once.

The hesitation before his next words was too long. “You sure?”