Rebirth Without a Name”
Unknown League Facility – Present Day
The room was silent, except for the slow, rhythmic beeping of ancient machines hooked to a breathing body.
Peter Al Ghul lay still in the Lazarus recovery chamber, steam curling around his skin. He looked older than ten — the Pit had brought him back changed. Taller. Sharper. The kind of boy you’d mistake for a weapon in waiting.
Talia stood over him, one hand brushing hair from his forehead.
“I never wanted to lose you,” she whispered. “But you gave yourself to save Damian. And he… couldn’t handle your death.”
Her voice dropped. “But you don’t need to remember that.”
The monitors beeped faster.
Peter’s fingers twitched.
A moment later, his eyes opened — a pale, unnatural green glow fading into soft hazel. He gasped for breath, like drowning in a memory he didn’t have.
He looked around wildly. “Where… Where am I?”
“You’re safe,” Talia said softly, with a rare tenderness. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
Peter blinked slowly, studying her face. “Who are you?”
Talia smiled, but there was sadness behind it. “I’m your mother.”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Just whispered:
“…Who am I?”
⸻
Elsewhere: Damian, unaware.
That night, Damian woke in a cold sweat.
He had the dream again — the moment Peter dropped his sword, the blood, the silence.
But this time, Peter had opened his eyes afterward. Looked at him. Said something he hadn’t before.
“You forgot me.”
Damian sat upright, heart racing.
Something in the world had shifted. Something was wrong.
Or maybe… something was waking up.