Sorry for the long delay, folks. Hope everyone's having a good holiday season~

Note: I haven't actually read either of the books referenced in this chapter, but they came up when I was doing research and seemed to fit so I threw them in there.

Scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there
Did you get to be a star

We grew up way too fast
And now there's nothing to believe
And reruns all become our history

-Goo Goo Dolls, "Name"

Then.

On Monday, Tim went to the library as usual once classes were over, but with a different purpose in mind than simply secluding himself in studies. …That is to say, he wouldn't be by himself this time.

He wondered why he even agreed to this.

That knock on the head must have scrambled his judgment – that was the only explanation he could think of for permitting himself to be possessed by such an insane notion.

When he reached the agreed-upon meeting place though, there was someone else sitting at the table instead of the person he expected. She had short, pitch black hair – sleek and strict – a style resembling Annie's but with a widow's peak; far darker bangs parted in the center, pulled back taut by a barrette. In addition, her skin was much more pale in comparison, emphasizing midnight mascara and lips. Both her chin and slanted eyes were sharper, piercing pupils snapping up from her book to stare straight at him with such intensity he flinched on instinct. He'd never seen anyone react so immediately to his presence.

"Uh… Hello?"

She eyed him with suspicion, silent and unmoving. Statuesque.

"Sorry to bother you, but… I'm supposed to be meeting someone here soon…"

Again, no response.

Tim didn't know what to do. He thought about just giving up and turning tail (hey, can't say he didn't try at least), though somehow the prospect of presenting his back to her seemed like a dangerous idea. He was about to retreat in reverse by slinking slowly into the shadows – safety – of shelves when a pair of hands suddenly emerged from behind him, blocking his vision.

"Guess who~?"

"Gah!"

He whirled around in a panic, almost about to punch the invader to his personal space when he saw it was – of course – Stephanie. The librarian sternly looked up from the counter at the loud disruption and pursed a finger to her lips, shushing.

"Fuck- don't do that," he hissed with a sibilant shiver, clutching his rapidly beating breast.

"…Sorry," she whispered back, contrite.

"It's okay," he muttered with a heavy sigh. "Just give me some warning next time."

Meanwhile, the seated spectator was still watching the two intently, stony view shifting back and forth between them. Tim felt even more uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze, and was about to suggest they move to someplace else when Steph waved to the glum girl in gleeful greeting.

"I see you've met my roommate," she chirped as she bounded over, cheerfully clasping hands on the sculpture's stiffened shoulders. "This is Cassandra, but you can call her Cass. She doesn't say much, but she's a nice girl. I hope you don't mind if she joins us for today."

As she briskly babbled introduction in lieu of the stranger herself, who still had yet to speak, Tim felt he was starting to understand how Steph was able to put up with his own severe lack of social skills.

"Um… Okay. Sure."

"Awesome. I'll be with you guys in a sec, just let me finish shelving these books."

She bustled off again, leaving Tim alone with Cassandra before he could even say anything. Defeated, he laid his bookbag on the table and took the chair diagonally across from her, not wanting to remain directly in her field of vision. She continued to follow his movements closely though, keeping sight trained on him as if a hawk tracking its prey – rigid and unwavering. …It was starting to seriously creep him out.

"So, er… What's that you're reading?"

He blurted out in a feeble endeavor to fill conversation.

Mechanically, she raised the cover so he could see. Judging by the winged figure in frilly jeweled fashion painted next to a medieval knight, both holding what appeared to be fanciful masks, it looked like some kind of fantasy young adult fiction novel.

"I… see. Is it interesting?"

She simply nodded, before (blessedly) returning attention to her reading material.

…

Can I go now?

As the suffocating silence stretched on, Tim wasn't sure if the situation was any better than before. Though her scathing appraisers were now fully fixed on the page in front of her rather than him, they didn't seem to be making any progress. …Which he supposed only made sense, given the orientation of the subject.

…Should I let her know she's holding that book upside-down?

To his surprise, a rosy tint developed on the other's complexion as she subtly flipped the tome to the correct position. Odd, he was sure he hadn't said that statement aloud. …But then, reality was such a fickle thing these days.

Yet, even though the volume was righted, her focus still didn't seem to advance at all. He mused idly if she was actually absorbing any of it.

Don't tell me she can't actually read.

"I can read."

Tim startled at the unanticipated answer. …Okay, this was really getting weird. He definitely hadn't said anything that time. Given that the supposed responder still hadn't budged an inch, he began to doubt whether he was really hearing things…

Before he could decide whether to inquire further out of sheer curiosity, Stephanie conveniently showed up at that precise moment, arms inflated with textbooks.

"Back! Sorry about that."

She plopped the heavy publications and herself down, insinuating cozily between the two, apparently without noticing the aura of awkwardness permeating the air.

"Shall we get started then?"

"Y- yeah."

Tim cast one more confused look at Cassandra before attempting to apply concentration to his other company instead. It was difficult when said study partner's own awareness kept wandering though, growing bored and fidgety within minutes. In the corner of his periphery, he could sense the third party's irises still peeking at him from over the pages as well, albeit remaining mute throughout the entire period.

By the end of the (exhausting) hour, Tim had managed to at least hammer in a few concepts. As they finally stood up and started gathering their things, Stephanie sheepishly apologized for her short retention span, and promised she'd be more attentive next time. Meanwhile, Cassandra quietly shut her text and rose, maneuvering fluently – like lighter fluid, hazardous and almost undetectable – around the desk to approach Tim. To both his and Steph's astonishment, she leaned in alarmingly close, lifting delicate digits to lightly touch his forehead. He swallowed apprehensively as she scrutinized his mystified expression, as if searching for something.

After a bewildered beat, she lowered her hand, and placed the paperback she had in his.

"Here."

He blinked at her in bemusement.

"Read it."

She merely instructed, before departing without another word.

"…What the heck was that about?"

Steph pondered, scratching her hair.

Tim shrugged. "Beats me. You know her better than I do."

"Yeah, but I have no idea why she does stuff sometimes." Stephanie paused, contemplating with a half-anxious, half-amused countenance. "Hey, maybe she likes you."

Tim blushed, busying with packing away his possessions again.

"Yeah, right."

…

As he lay on his dorm bed later though, looking at the lent item against the light, he reflected on the strange glance and gesture she gave him. It wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced before. It was as if the cold contact infiltrated deep into his soul, chilling to his very core…

Conner came in then, bearing a broad grin.

"Yooo Timbo, so how'd it go with that girl?"

Tim shrugged, sitting up.

"…She brought her roommate along."

The other boy elevated an eyebrow.

"Dude. That's a bad sign. Inviting someone else on the first date means you're totally in the friendzone."

"I told you, it's not a date."

"What is it then?"

Tim exhaled, shaking his head.

"…I don't know."

Conner crossed over to clap a thick paw on Tim's shoulder.

"Lighten up, man. You'll win her over, don't worry."

He elbowed with a wink and cheesy thumbs-up, and Tim rolled his retinas, but didn't say anything. Conner's eyes caught the object in the other's lap, and he plucked it up without warning, wrinkling his nose as he examined the lacey title.

"The Black Swan? Since when do you read chick lit?"

"It's not mine," Tim defended hastily. "Steph's roommate told me to read it. Now give it back."

Tim made a swipe for the article, but Conner easily kept his extended muscle out of the shorter one's reach as he flipped teasingly through the embarrassing narrative, reciting passages aloud with gusto.

"'Odile watched her father's back, swallowing involuntary bitter tears of disappointment and rejection, feeling her head droop a little as her heart sank with dejection.'"

"Will you shut up?"

"'If she could have wept, her tears would have burned furrows down her face, so bitter were the dregs of degradation that she drank at that moment.' …God, who writes this stuff?"

Tim grimaced as he made another desperate effort to grab at the entity. In the midst of their scuffle though, two tags secretly tucked into the spine slipped out from between the sheets, landing at their feet. They both blinked and bent down to pick one up each, puzzled by the bizarre bookmarks.

They were playing cards.

Conner glimpsed up from the Ace of Clubs he was holding towards Tim, whose eyes were expanded wide with shock and – horror? – as his hand began shaking.

"Hey, you okay, man? What's wrong?"

Gulping, Tim gradually rotated the thin cardboard around to reveal its front: not a number or face… but a Joker.

Anger and concern promptly carved onto Conner's visage.

"What the hell is this? Some kind of sick joke?"

Tim said nothing, as he peered down at the scarlet diptych design of mirrored angels and demons on the backside to find a brief note written in bold, black marker:

Park. 4PM.

Biting his lip in baffled frustration, Conner revolved his own cue around to discover a much longer message. His brow furrowed as he tried (rather unsuccessfully) to pronounce the alien language it was inscribed in.

"'Rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno' – what is this, French?"

"It's Latin," Tim clarified. "'A rare bird in the lands and very much like a black swan.' It likely refers to a recent theory published by Taleb. It's a metaphor to describe an event that comes as a surprise, that's hard to predict since it's beyond the realm of regular expectations, and has an extreme major impact as a result. Afterwards, it is rationalized by hindsight, as if it could've been anticipated if the relevant data were available – but this only becomes apparent in retrospect. The phrase itself was coined by the ancient poet Juvenal, back when people thought black swans didn't exist and that such an abnormality was impossible. It was only later proven wrong when the first one was discovered in 1697."

Conner blinked vacantly at Tim, looking as lost as he always did whenever the other went off on an encyclopedic (if perhaps slightly pretentious) tangent.

"So… What does it all mean?"

"I don't know," Tim admitted as he took the pair and headed determinedly over to his computer, booting up the system. "But I'm going to find out."

He navigated to the browser window – keeping a weather eye on the worrisome memo as it unwillingly brought back bad memories – and did some digging.

…

By the time he was done with his research, the hour of summons was fast approaching. He snatched his jacket and was out the door before Conner could even get a word in edgewise, racing towards Gotham Central Park.

As soon as he arrived there, he stilled for a second at the entrance gate, surveying the tranquil scene of people walking casually to and fro: lovers holding hands, families enjoying late afternoon picnics and games of Frisbee or Fetch with their pets, children running joyfully to their parents across the grass – the latter giving affectionate hugs and pats before sending off with smiles to the playground, all while keeping a careful watch on their precious bundles from a distance.

Tim spotted Cassandra sitting by herself on a swingset towards the outskirts, exuding a gloomy atmosphere that likely aided in deterring any nosey youngsters. He neared cautiously, observing her glide like a gentle pendulum for a while, before she slowed to a stop and looked at him finally.

"You came."

Dispensing with preliminaries, Tim cut straight to the chase.

"How did you know who I was?"

Cassandra smiled softly.

"The way you move – it resembles him. No openings, always on guard, not a single wasted motion…" She then added in a hush: "Plus, I read your mind."

Her head declined in apology.

"Forgive me. It's not something I normally like to do to others, especially to someone I've just met. …There was such a dark cloud surrounding yours though, I- I couldn't help it."

She dragged a heel through the dirt.

"Besides, you know who I am now, don't you?"

Tim sat down on the swing next to her, repeating everything he had learned based on his hunch.

"Several years ago, the Joker broke into a Cadmus facility in Arizona. He released five metahuman kids, who had been abducted from their families shortly after birth and raised as secret weapons for the government. He took them on as his own protégés, calling them the 'Royal Flush Gang'. The strongest of them was named 'Ace', who possessed telepathic powers the likes of which the world had never seen before. …'Ace' reportedly died not long after of a brain aneurysm in the presence of Batman, who was the only witness, in a park not unlike this one."

Cassandra merely nodded affirmatively.

"…He helped you fake your death, didn't he?"

"It was the only way to free me completely from Cadmus' clutches. Otherwise they would keep hounding me forever." She gripped the chains bitterly. "He sent for an expensive foreign doctor who performed the surgery in secret. Afterwards, he gave me a choice: I could stay and be a part of his team, or I could live peacefully on my own. …I chose this."

Tim afforded her an odd look, thinking how close he evidently could've been to having an actual "sister" his age.

"…I'm guessing 'Cassandra's' not your real name either."

"It is the name he gave me. After the Greek prophet from mythology."

"Can you actually see the future?"

Tim questioned, genuinely intrigued.

Cass regarded the horizon, as if squinting into some sort of far-off void.

"What I see are… 'possibilities'. Infinite paths our lives could've taken, had we made different choices. If just the slightest factor changed course. 'Alternate realities', if you will."

She told him, about a world where there weren't just two Robins, but a third Robin and then a fourth, a world where Barbara was the one shot and paralyzed instead of Dick, where Joker lived and he died and came back to life and his name wasn't Tim it was-

"Stop. I'd rather not hear any more."

Tim prolonged a palm to halt her crazy-sounding speech, grasping his aching skull in the other.

"I'm not saying I totally understand or believe you, but basically what you're saying is… 'Something' was bound to happen sooner or later."

"…If that is how you wish to interpret it."

She removed her limbs from the links, resting on her legs instead.

"I am sorry, for what he did to you. The… things I saw inside his mind, they were so terrible, I should've known better than to leave him be. I… should've ended him when I had the chance." Her knuckles clenched, impressing into her thighs. "Even though they trained me to use my powers to kill, I- I couldn't. I didn't want to."

Tentatively, Tim reached out to wrap his own hand soothingly around her wrist.

"Hey, that's not on you. It's not your fault. None of it was your fault, including-" He hesitated. "-what happened with your parents."

He heard an abrupt wailing coming from the court where a kid had tripped and fallen from the bottom of the slide, scraping her knees on the wood chips. Her mom and dad hurried to her side, cooing and consoling as they stuck numerous kisses and band-aids with colorful cartoon kitties and pretty princesses on them to the boo-boos. Turning, he saw there were tears rolling down Cassandra's cheeks as she unfurled her fist, knotting fingers into the comfort of his. While her nails were startlingly long, she took care not to wound his flesh, closing just tight enough to exchange warmth.

"You and I… are similar. I don't mean just because of Joker either." She meditated off into that empty space again. "The two of us are anomalies. Outliers. Outsiders. We don't fit into the grand scheme. We've always been… 'different'. We don't 'belong'."

Tim wasn't sure exactly what she was talking about. But he took a stab at alleviating the mood anyway.

"I guess you could say we're… 'Wild Cards'?"

She stared at him.

"…Sorry, bad joke."

And people say I'm humorless now.

Cass looked a little put-off as she pouted, and he winced, remembering she could hear what he was thinking as well. He swiftly opted to switch the topic instead.

"You cannot tell Stephanie about any of this."

"I don't intend to." Gray eyes narrowed with gritty resolve as her voice dropped to a grave mumble, digging her toe into the earth and gravel. "Someone like her should not know of the horrors we've been through, the darkness that we come from. The number of evil sins we've committed. …It will only lead to causing the same kind of pain in the end."

Her face contorted obliquely as she said this, ominous and foreboding. Breathing out, she monitored the fading violet brightness of the sun as it started to set.

"Stephanie… is light. A ray of hope. She's the first person I've met who wasn't instantly afraid of me, but accepted me right away for who I was. She's the first real 'friend' I've ever had. …I would never do anything to hurt her."

She looked down at their connection, as if realizing the implication just now, and nervously began to relinquish. Tim didn't let go though. Something she had said triggered a thought in the back of his conscience, and he stood up, coaxing mildly.

"Come on. There's someone else I think you should meet."

Timidly, she trailed after his tow. Whilst they stood there waiting for the bus, he overheard a passing elderly duo remark wistfully on that "cute young couple", which in turn urged him to be the one to impulsively liberate this time. As they both coughed and avoided each other's eyes, Cassandra spoke up in a somewhat troubled tone.

"There's… something else I should mention."

"What?"

"When I… looked into your subconscious, I saw an even greater darkness buried deep down. I can't explain it, but… I fear it may consume you someday." She frowned in vexation at her inability to identify, to express. "…It bears strong resemblance to him."

Though he was afraid to ask, Tim did so anyway.

"Who?"

She gave him an ambiguous look, constricted and conflicted dots overwhelmingly obscure.

"Both."

And now we're grown up orphans
That never knew their names
We don't belong to no one
That's a shame

But you could hide beside me
Maybe for a while
And I won't tell no one your name

Fun fact: This is actually a harem story. ;O *shot* (Jk. XP)

Apologies to anyone who was expecting a faithful representation of Cass, but this is my headcanon and I'm stickin' to it. *flees*

P.S. Cookie to whoever guesses what character I based her personality off of~