[English][DC-Batman] Nora - Extra Chapter: If We Had Met in College 4.2The Quietest Dream in Gotham

Jason suddenly felt as if a swarm of ants were crawling up the base of his spine.

A cold shiver shot upward,

racing along his back,

before slamming straight into his mind.

In an instant,

he was completely alert.

No.

Something really happened.

Tim's instincts.

His own instincts.

And the man's confession.

Every piece suddenly fit together.

Jason didn't waste another second.

He sprang to his feet,

spun around,

and sprinted toward the motorcycle parked at the mouth of the alley.

His pace quickened with every step,

until he was running full speed.

Then—

a deep, muffled boom rolled across the distance.

Like thunder echoing from the horizon.

The ground beneath his feet trembled ever so slightly.

Jason stopped.

Instinctively,

he turned toward the sound.

Then...

he slowly came to a complete halt.

In the distant city center,

an enormous column of smoke was shooting straight into the sky.

Thick black smoke churned upward,

layer after layer,

while flames flickered violently at its base,

like some enormous beast roaring in fury.

That wasn't a gas explosion.

It was far too large.

Jason's pupils contracted.

His mind instantly began calculating the location.

South of Wayne Tower.

Midtown.

The border with the South Side.

The very instant he pinpointed it,

another image flashed through his mind without warning.

Just before hanging up,

Liela had been standing outside the bakery.

Smiling.

Softly saying,

"Love you."

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Then the real shockwave arrived.

BOOM—

A violent blast swept across the waterfront.

The air compressed beneath an invisible fist,

then exploded outward.

Jason's black-and-white hair whipped wildly in the wind.

Windows all around him shrieked as they rattled violently.

A sharp pain stabbed into his ears.

Then...

the world fell silent.

Only a piercing, relentless ringing remained.

Riiiiing—

Every other sound disappeared.

He could no longer hear Liela's final whisper.

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Jason sat with his head lowered, a Bible open in his hands.

The yellowed pages had remained open to the same passage for a long time.

His eyes stayed fixed on the words.

No one knew how much of it he was actually reading.

No one knew what was truly going through his mind.

In the Batcave,

Dick stood before one of the computer monitors.

His gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, toward the surveillance feed showing Jason.

Behind his blue eyes lay deep, unmistakable concern.

It had been exactly two weeks since the massive explosion in Gotham.

Dick had returned to the city almost immediately after it happened to help with the aftermath.

Even now...

he wasn't sure how to describe those two weeks.

On the day of the explosion,

he had been at the police station when the floor suddenly lurched beneath his feet.

His first thought had been an earthquake.

Then, a second later,

someone inside the station shouted,

"Everyone, outside! Look!"

Dick sprinted out of the building and looked up.

Then he saw it.

Far above Gotham's skyline,

an enormous mushroom cloud continued to rise into the sky.

Layers of black smoke churned and rolled,

like a gigantic hand reaching out from hell,

slowly swallowing the city.

For one brief moment,

Dick forgot to breathe.

The instant he came back to himself,

he requested emergency deployment

and headed straight for Gotham.

When he finally reached the blast site,

the devastation was even worse than what the news had shown.

At the center of the explosion lay a massive crater.

Nearly every surrounding city block had been devastated by the shockwave.

The outer walls of skyscrapers had been stripped away,

leaving twisted steel beams exposed.

Building after building stood on the verge of collapse.

Cries echoed everywhere.

People screamed for help.

There was no time to think.

Dick threw himself into the rescue effort immediately.

Lifting shattered slabs of concrete.

Pulling trapped civilians to safety.

Maintaining what little order remained.

He barely stopped for an entire day.

Batman arrived as well.

Just as always,

he remained calm.

Composed.

He assigned everyone's tasks with swift precision.

Rescue.

Containment.

Evacuation.

Investigation.

Every order was clear.

Every decision immediate.

Not a trace of confusion.

But Dick knew.

Bruce was furious.

Someone had attacked his city.

And two of his sons had disappeared at the same time.

Then,

a day later,

they finally received word.

Jason had pulled Tim out of the nearly collapsed sewer system by sheer force.

Tim had come within moments of dying.

The explosion had caused the underground tunnels to cave in completely.

Every planned escape route had been buried.

Floodwater had rushed into the tunnels with terrifying speed.

If Jason had arrived even a minute later, Tim would have drowned down there.

But the bad news followed immediately.

The very second Batman confirmed that Tim was alive,

he grabbed Jason.

Without a word of warning,

the two of them were suddenly fighting.

Dick had only just arrived.

He froze,

completely unable to understand what was happening.

All he could do was keep throwing himself between them,

trying to pull them apart.

Trying to calm them down.

In the end,

Jason was locked inside one of the holding cells in the Batcave.

Only then did Dick finally get the chance to ask Bruce,

"What happened?"

Batman frowned.

"He was covered in killing intent."

Inside the holding cell,

Jason never shouted.

He never lashed out.

He never broke anything.

He simply sat there,

his phone in his hand,

calling the same number

over and over again.

Once.

Again.

Until the battery finally died

and the phone shut itself off.

Only then did he slowly set it aside.

From beside him,

he picked up the Bible.

And kept reading it.

He barely closed his eyes.

He barely touched any food.

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"Gotham will take everyone you love."

The words suddenly surfaced in Jason's mind.

He had heard that sentence when he was very young.

Back when he still lived in Crime Alley.

Back when he was struggling to survive in the slums.

He had forgotten who had said it.

Maybe it had been some drunk.

Maybe an old neighbor.

Maybe someone who had already lost their own family.

Too much time had passed.

So much time that he couldn't even remember the speaker's face.

Only the words had remained, buried deep inside his mind.

Until today.

Now they had returned.

Jason had thought he would feel overwhelming grief.

Rage.

That he would scream.

That he would smash everything around him,

just as he once had.

But none of it came.

Nothing.

He couldn't even cry.

It was as though the entire world had been sealed behind a thin sheet of glass.

Everyone's voices sounded distant.

Everything he saw felt unreal.

He could see it.

But he couldn't feel it.

It was like watching someone else's life unfold.

The moment the explosion happened,

he had thrown himself onto his motorcycle and raced toward the blast site.

The throttle had been pinned almost to its limit.

He had blown through countless red lights.

He had been one of the very first people to reach the scene.

At that time,

the thick clouds of dust had not yet settled.

The air was saturated with the acrid smell of burning,

while flaming debris continued to rain from the sky.

An entire section of the city looked as though an invisible hand had simply torn it away.

That was also the moment Jason saw it.

At the center of the blast,

a massive crescent-shaped crater.

The earth itself had been ripped apart,

collapsing into the darkness below.

The silence was terrifying.

Then, a single thought flashed through his mind.

Tim.

Tim was still in the sewer system.

His breathing caught.

He immediately pulled out his phone

and dialed Tim's number.

The call rang.

No answer.

He dialed again.

Still nothing.

Just as he was about to call a third time,

his phone suddenly vibrated.

A system alert.

The screen lit up with bright red notifications.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

All five of Liela's trackers had gone offline at exactly the same moment.

Jason stared at the screen.

Frozen.

Time itself seemed to stop.

Several long seconds passed.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and drew in one deep breath.

When he opened them again, there was no emotion left in those blue eyes.

He silently slipped the phone back into his pocket, turned around, and walked toward the entrance to the sewer.

One step at a time, he disappeared into the darkness below.

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Tim's eyes slowly fluttered open.

The bright lights of the medical bay came into focus, though his mind was still hazy. The steady rhythm of medical monitors echoed faintly through the room, and every wound in his battered body served as a reminder that he was still alive.

He didn't check his injuries.

He didn't ask what had happened outside.

The first words out of his mouth were calm and simple.

"My phone."

Standing beside the bed, Dick had just begun to relax. Relief had finally reached his face now that his little brother was awake.

Then he heard those two words.

His smile froze.

Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, he said, "Your phone... it's broken."

Tim didn't hesitate.

"I have backups."

Dick fell silent.

Of course he knew.

Tim didn't just have one backup phone—he had several.

But...

He couldn't hand him one.

After a brief pause, Dick finally admitted the truth.

"Sorry, Timmy. Bruce gave strict orders."

"I can't let you have one."

Silence settled over the room.

Tim lowered his gaze without saying a word.

For several long seconds, he simply sat there, silently piecing everything together, rearranging every fragment of information in his mind.

Then he looked up.

"Where's Jason?"

Dick's heart sank.

Having a brother as intelligent as Tim meant very little ever escaped him.

With a silent sigh, Dick answered honestly. Bruce had never forbidden him from revealing this part.

"He's in one of the holding cells."

Tim didn't look surprised.

He simply closed his eyes again.

After another moment of silence, he spoke quietly.

"Please leave."

Dick hesitated.

He knew Tim needed rest.

He also knew that, in his current condition, there was no way he could actually get out of bed.

But...

Dick knew something else.

Right now, what Tim needed wasn't company.

He needed to be alone.

In the end, Dick nodded.

"All right."

"If you need anything, press the call button."

He quietly left the medical bay, gently pulling the door shut behind him.

The hallway fell silent once more.

Dick stood outside for a long moment before glancing back at the closed door.

A heavy feeling settled in his chest.

He couldn't help wondering...Where would this tragedy leave their family?

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Tim was gone.

Dick had no idea when he'd left.

The next morning, as usual, Dick carried breakfast down the hallway toward the medical bay. On the tray sat a bowl of light porridge, some fresh fruit, and a cup of hot tea Alfred had prepared especially for Tim.

As he pushed the door open, he was already thinking about how he was going to convince his little brother to stay in bed for at least a few more days.

Then the door swung open.

The bed was empty.

The blankets had been folded back at one corner, and the monitoring equipment that had been connected to Tim had all been carefully removed. Every wire and sensor had been neatly coiled and placed on the bedside table.

Dick stood in the doorway, breakfast tray still in his hands.

He didn't move.

Several seconds passed.

Finally, he let out a long, weary sigh.

He looked down at the breakfast he was carrying.

Then back at the empty bed.

In the end, he quietly pulled the door shut again and made a decision.

He wouldn't tell Bruce.

Not yet.

At least...

not right away.

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When people are hurt, where do they want to go?

Home.

Tim returned to Drake Manor.

It was the house where he'd grown up.

The place that held every memory he shared with his sister.

The spacious front yard was as quiet as ever.

The familiar front door.

The familiar hallway.

The familiar staircase.

Every step carried him deeper into his childhood.

His parents had always been busy.

They were either traveling for work or buried in it.

More often than not, the house had belonged to just him and Liela.

So nearly all of Tim's childhood memories were shared with his sister.

Having breakfast together.

Doing homework at the same table.

Watching movies in the living room.

Curled up on the couch, talking about everything and nothing.

Back then, they had seemed like the most ordinary days imaginable.

Now...

they felt more precious than anything else.

Tim slowly walked into the living room.

The house was silent.

He stood there without moving as the last message Liela had ever sent him surfaced in his mind.

A photo of a bakery.

Followed by a single sentence.

"I bought your favorite bread. I'll stop by the house later."

Ever since Tim had moved into Wayne Manor and Liela had started living with Jason, they rarely saw each other in person anymore.

Everyone had their own life.

Their own responsibilities.

But even so...

Liela always made a point of texting him.

She'd ask how college was going.

Whether his exams were going well.

She'd remind him not to stay up all night again.

And every now and then, she'd casually ask whether patrol had been especially dangerous lately.

She had always known what he and Jason did after dark.

She had never liked it.

She hated seeing people get hurt.

She hated seeing blood.

Most of all...

she hated watching the people she loved stake their lives on the night, over and over again.

But she had never asked either of them to stop.

She simply respected the choices they had made.

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Tim sat on the staircase in complete darkness.

The entire Drake Manor was silent.

The last traces of evening light filtered through the windows, casting pale gray shadows across the hardwood floor, but the center of the staircase remained untouched by the fading light.

That was where Tim sat.

His back rested against the stairs, his head buried deep in his folded arms.

He didn't move.

He remained in the same position for so long that he seemed less like a person and more like another silent fixture of the house.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His body flinched almost imperceptibly.

Slowly, he lifted his head.

But he didn't move.

For a moment, he wasn't even sure he'd really heard it.

Maybe he was imagining things.

A few seconds later—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound came again.

Clearer this time.

Tim slowly raised his eyes toward the front door.

Before he could fully process it—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A third knock.

Steady.

Measured.

Someone was really there.

Tim slowly rose to his feet.

Somewhere deep inside him, a tiny spark of hope flickered to life—

one he refused to acknowledge.

Step by step, he walked toward the foyer.

He stopped in front of the door, wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and hesitated.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he turned it.

The door opened.

Someone was standing outside.

Or rather...

she had already turned to leave.

One foot had stepped onto the front stairs when the sound of the opening door made her pause.

She glanced back over her shoulder.

A young woman.

Someone he didn't recognize.

Without turning around completely, she asked,

"Timothy Drake?"

Tim gave a small nod.

Receiving her answer, she finally turned around and walked back to the doorway until she stood in front of him.

Neither of them spoke.

The young woman quietly studied him, her gaze traveling from the bandages wrapped around his forehead to the injuries covering his arm and the rest of his body.

Tim was doing exactly the same.

His blue eyes calmly assessed every detail about her.

When two people were equally cautious, neither wanted to reveal the first opening.

Only a few seconds passed.

Yet it felt like a silent duel.

At last, her eyes settled on the bandage around his head.

Something seemed to click.

"So that's why you didn't come," she murmured.

Tim frowned slightly.

"Didn't come where?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she gave a small shake of her head.

Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a small box and held it out to him.

Tim didn't take it.

His posture remained guarded as his eyes settled on the box.

"What is it?"

The woman sighed, as though she'd expected exactly that reaction.

"I'm Nora's roommate."

"Just take it."

Tim froze.

Nora.

The name alone brought his thoughts to a halt.

Before he could react, the woman stepped forward, took hold of his bandaged hand, and pressed the little box into his palm.

The motion was quick.

Decisive.

Leaving him no chance to refuse.

As soon as she'd let go, she turned away.

"That's all."

"I'm leaving."

She walked off without another word.

Without looking back.

Tim remained standing in the doorway, watching her disappear farther and farther down the street until she finally vanished from sight.

Only then did he slowly come back to himself.

He lowered his gaze to the small box resting in his hand.

A moment later, he quietly closed the front door.

Click.

The house fell silent once again.

Tim walked into the living room and switched on the lights.

Warm golden light flooded the empty space.

He stood there alone, staring quietly at the small box in his hand.

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