Leila wasn’t in the Batcave.
After Tim collapsed, she and Alfred had quietly placed Nora’s body into the cryo-chamber. The entire process was silent—so silent she could hear the click of the lock as she secured it. One single "click," like the sound of something closing for good.
She didn’t look back.
Someone from the Bat-family had just arrived and taken over the chaos.
She chose to leave.
It wasn’t avoidance. She simply remembered the child upstairs, the one she had left crying in the living room.
Finn.
She walked quickly back to the manor, her footsteps silent on the carpeted hallway, just like her emotions—all swallowed into the pit of her stomach.
When she pushed open the living room door, she saw Finn had been changed into fresh clothes. He was curled up in the corner of the couch, dozing, still clutching a phone in his tiny hand, as if holding on to the last thread of connection.
She knelt down and gently pulled the phone from his grip. Finn’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, sensing his mother’s presence, and he instinctively nestled into her arms.
He didn’t cry anymore, just trembled slightly, like a small animal finally found.
Leila held her son and closed her eyes.
She didn’t know how she would explain to him, when he woke up, that "everything's okay." Because she truly didn’t know if it was.
Meanwhile, in the Batcave underground, Tim remained unconscious.
The dose had been strong—enough to knock out any trained soldier for hours.
But everyone knew the truth:
No one dared imagine what Tim would become once he woke up.
That uncertainty was more terrifying than death.
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The meeting began quietly as Tim slept.
The lights in the Batcave were cold, like an endless pre-dawn.
Bruce sat at the main computer, typing commands himself.
"It took me some time to get in," he said evenly. "He strengthened the firewalls again."
The screen began to shift, pulling up document after document.
They were Tim’s files on Nora—clearly organized, meticulously categorized. From her name, background, to timeline overlaps between worlds, nothing was left out.
No one spoke.
Even a file labeled "Batman Comics from Other Universes" appeared, causing Dick to frown.
"Wait… are we comic book characters now?"
Bruce shook his head. "That’s not the point today."
He stopped at a line Tim had typed:
"Cause of death???"
Bruce went silent for a full minute before turning to Zatanna, who stood nearby.
"Do you think her soul could return to her body?"
Zatanna stared down at the files, her fingertip gliding across the screen.
She finally spoke. "If... and I mean if... someone truly managed to restore Nora's body..."
She lifted her head, her voice careful.
"Then her soul might resonate more strongly with her original world’s frequency—making it more likely she'd return."
It was a possibility. But it also meant that bringing her back might also send her away.
Leila, seated quietly against the wall, listened as her husband relayed the conversation. Her lips pressed tightly.
She signed one question: "Can she do it?"
Jason shook his head. "Souls aren’t her field. She’s a sorceress, not a medium."
The room fell silent again.
Leila looked down, her eyes hidden beneath long lashes. She said nothing, only stood up.
She signed swiftly to Jason: "Take care of Finn."
Jason watched her leave, but didn’t stop her.
She walked down the hallway, as if moving through a corridor of memories.
Tim’s room opened easily. It was just as she remembered—clean, calm, orderly.
But her actions did not match that order.
Cabinets opened. Drawers slammed. Pages flew. Her hands moved with precision and urgency.
She was searching for something. A will. A spark.
Minutes passed. Then she froze.
She stood upright, holding a box.
She knew what it was.
It was the Batarang Tim had secretly won at auction when he was six, using every bit of his saved allowance. An original model, hand-sharpened by Batman himself.
He’d treasured it ever since, even made a box just for it. Inside the lid was a wrinkled black-and-white photo—his first glimpse of Bruce in costume, standing on a rooftop.
That was the beginning of Tim’s faith.
Leila looked down at the Batarang for a long time.
Her fingers brushed gently across its familiar edges, like touching a hope not yet broken.
She never believed in fate.
But she believed some things—no matter how small—could still be hurled into darkness and carve a trail.
Like a signal.
Like a summoning.
Like a love that refused to end.
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"Tim Drake’s vitals are rising. Estimated time to consciousness: three minutes."
The Batcave’s automated voice made the announcement with no emotion, but the air instantly tightened.
Everyone turned toward Tim, lying on the makeshift infirmary bed. His breathing deepened. His brows twitched. His muscles tensed.
He was waking up.
Bruce frowned. "There’s still time to sedate him again."
Dick whispered, "But we can’t keep doing that. His brain could suffer permanent damage."
Jason leaned against the wall, tapping his belt buckle—a casual stance, yet his eyes were sharp.
"So what? Tie him down? Knock him out before he even sits up?" he said coldly. No one laughed.
It wasn’t a joke. It was tactical planning.
Zatanna said grimly, "When he wakes up, he could... lose control. Even become violent."
No one argued.
Tim had never been the type to lose control.
But this time... this wasn’t about losing a teammate or a plan.
This was losing Nora.
The girl he had guarded with his own hands.
His only one.
Silence hung in the air as everyone exchanged anxious glances.
And then—
Tim’s blue eyes opened.
It was a quiet awakening. No scream. No convulsions.
He simply opened his eyes. The blue within was unfocused, like someone still climbing out of a long dream.
He inhaled. Then sat up with unnatural steadiness.
His eyes scanned the room—Zatanna, Jason, Bruce, even Damian in the corner—as if cross-referencing memories.
Every second felt like a countdown to detonation.
A silent tension spread through the room.
Then—
A figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
Leila.
She walked into the Batcave without a word, her expression calm and resolute.
She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t greet anyone. She went straight to the equipment bench and picked up a fresh sedative.
Everyone’s attention shifted from Tim to her.
No one dared speak.
She walked up to Tim and stopped.
Tim looked up at her.
Their eyes locked.
Leila still held the sedative, but didn’t raise it.
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and then Add to home screen.