CHAPTER FOURTEEN - A THERAPY SESSION

The Narrows were quiet that night, or at least as quiet as they ever got. Taylor stood on the rooftop of an abandoned tenement, her hood pulled low to shield her from the cold wind, though they tugged at it and tousled her hair. Below, dim streetlights flickered weakly, casting long shadows over cracked pavement. The silence pressed down on her, giving her too much space to think.

Her mind wandered, as it often did when things calmed down, to the life she’d left behind—the life that still haunted her. Brockton Bay. Gold Morning. Khepri. The weight of it all hung over her like a shroud she couldn’t shake, no matter how many miles separated her from that broken world.

She glanced to her right, where Robin leaned against a nearby vent with his arms crossed. He hadn’t looked at her or said much since they arrived, but then, he never did. Instead, he watched the streets below with an intent focus, though Taylor knew she had his attention. She had begun to understand that his silence wasn’t indifference; it was observation, calculation. He was always thinking, always one step ahead.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally, his voice breaking the silence. “Almost too quiet. It’s unusual.”

Taylor let out a dry chuckle. “Says the guy who speaks in single sentences half the time.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he waited, giving her the space to continue if she wanted.

Taylor hesitated, staring out at the sprawling skyline. She breathed in deeply, the cold night air filling her lungs, and let herself savor it—the faint scent of rain and the acrid tang of the city’s grit. Then, she sat at the edge of the rooftop, her gaze downcast and knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them.

“I used to be good at this.” Her voice was sudden yet quiet, almost lost in the wind.

Robin turned to her for a moment. His domino mask obscured his expression, but his silence carried something different—less judgmental, more curious.

“Fighting. Leading. Making things happen.” She sighed, folding her arms. “Back in—at home, I had… control. I knew what I was doing, even when it all went wrong. But here…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “Here, I feel like I’m playing catch-up. Like I’m always a step behind.”

Robin tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable behind the domino mask. “You’re still standing. That counts for something.”

Taylor huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, barely.” She hesitated again, then added, “You ever feel like no matter how much you do, it’s never enough? Like the harder you fight, the more the world pushes back?”

For a moment, Robin didn’t respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than she expected. “All the time.”

Taylor turned to face him, surprised by the admission.

Robin pushed off the vent and walked over, crouching down beside her. “I grew up in the shadow of Batman,” he continued. “The perfect hero. The one who always has the answers, who always knows what to do. And I was expected to follow in his footsteps, to carry that legacy. But I’ve made my own mistakes. I’ve let people down. I’ve gotten people hurt. Sometimes… I think I’m just a cheap imitation trying to live up to something I’ll never be.”

“That sounds… exhausting,” she said, her tone more empathetic than she’d intended.

“It is.” Robin shrugged, as if brushing off the weight of his words. “But it’s the only life I know. And if I don’t keep moving forward, it’ll crush me.”

Taylor nodded slowly, his words resonating with her. She thought of everything she’d done as Khepri—the choices she’d made, the people she’d controlled, the lives she’d changed forever. She thought of the burden she still carried, the guilt that never truly went away.

“I did things back home,” she said quietly. “Things I can’t take back. People called me a hero, but I didn't feel like one. I tried. I really tried. But things got out of control. I… I became something else. Something I never truly wanted to be, but had to.”

“Something else? Like what?”

She pushed past the lump caught in her throat and said, “Khepri.” The name came out in a near whisper, but it hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

Robin frowned. “Khepri?”

“A memory I thought I had escaped by coming here,” Taylor said, her voice hollow. “I was a weapon. A tool for something bigger than myself.” She shook her head, the memories flooding back in sharp, painful clarity. “A part of me thought I could forget about it and start over, but Gotham… Gotham’s just another broken city, like my home. And I can’t help but wonder if I’m just making the same mistakes all over again.”

For a while, neither of them spoke, the weight of their respective burdens settling between them like an unspoken understanding. The wind whistled through the broken windows of the building behind them, carrying the distant sounds of sirens and the occasional shout.

Then Robin said, “Well, you are not Khepri anymore.” His voice was firm and decisive. “You don’t have to be what they made you. You get to choose who you are here.”

Taylor blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected reassurance. “That’s easier said than done.”

“Everything worth doing is,” Robin replied. He turned to face her fully, his expression serious. “I don’t trust easily, but I’ve seen how you fight, how you think. You’re trying to help, even if you don’t know how yet. That’s more than most people in this city can say.”

Taylor smiled despite herself, the weight in her chest easing slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And that was enough for now.

Robin stood, extending a hand to her. “Come on. We’ve got work to do, and I doubt Ra’s al Ghul will be so kind as to wait for us to finish our therapy session.”

Taylor took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “Thanks,” she said softly.

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. If you do, I’ll deny everything.”

She smirked faintly, turning back toward the street below. “You’re such a jerk.”

“And you’re insufferable. Let’s go.”

With that, the two vanished into the night.