Stranger Roads

Barbara sat behind the desk at the library, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard as she investigated the case Tim had sent her. The quiet hum of the library was a comforting backdrop, but her mind was always alert—always aware of the people who came in, even if they didn’t realize it.

It wasn’t long before she noticed him—a young man, damp from the rain, looking out of place. He hesitated before stepping up to her desk, his eyes darting around as if unsure of himself. Something about his demeanor caught her attention. He looked like he was in his late teens, maybe early twenties, but there was an intensity about him—something fragile beneath the surface.

“Excuse me,” his voice was unsure, but polite. “Sorry to bother you, um, ma’am.”

Barbara looked up, her initial instinct to offer him a reassuring smile. She had learned over the years how to make people feel at ease with just a look. The boy’s nervousness seemed familiar to her, and it made her soften her gaze. “How can I help you?”

His eyes flickered to hers for a second before he spoke again, a little less hesitant this time. “I was wondering if I could use the computers? Just need to do some research.”

“Of course,” Barbara responded, her fingers already moving to input his request into the system. Without another word, she moved to the computer beside her, typing a quick command. A moment later, the printer hummed to life, and she handed him a slip of paper with a code on it. “That’s your guest code. It’ll give you an hour of computer time.”

He took it awkwardly, his gaze darting between the paper and her face. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“Please,” she smiled, her voice light but warm, “call me Barbara.”

He nodded, offering a quick, half-hearted smile of his own before heading to the computers in the back. Barbara couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on, but she pushed the thought aside. She had seen enough troubled young faces to know when someone needed space. Still, her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary, something about him pulling at her attention.

As he sat at the computer, Barbara returned to her work, but her peripheral vision kept him in view. She noticed the way he kept glancing at the screen, his fingers hesitating on the keys, his body tense. It wasn’t just that he was lost in his research—there was something else.

Her instincts were sharp, honed over years of dealing with Gotham’s undercurrent of danger and heartbreak. Something about this kid, the way he carried himself, didn’t sit right with her. He wasn’t here just to use the computers. She could feel the undercurrent of tension, the weight in his shoulders. It reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t place who.

She tried to focus on the task at hand, but her eyes kept flicking back to him. He was deep in his search, his brows furrowed as he scrolled through articles about Gotham’s history. Barbara had seen plenty of newcomers come and go, but this one... there was something different about him.

Her gut instinct told her to stay alert.

She watched as he froze on the screen. She didn’t know what he was reading, but she saw his fingers pause, his face blanch as if the weight of the discovery had hit him like a punch. His body tensed, his shoulders hunching as if trying to shield himself from the emotions flooding over him.

Barbara’s heart clenched as she recognized the shift in his posture—the familiar sign of someone on the verge of a breakdown, trying desperately to hold it together. She had seen it before, many times. But it didn’t make it any easier.

And then, the tears came. Silent, relentless, and the kid didn’t even try to hide them. The sobs were quiet, but they were there. She could see the way his hands trembled as he wiped at his face, but it didn’t stop the flow.

She quickly wheeled to his side. The library was a quiet place, but this moment felt like it was all-consuming. She had dealt with enough pain in her life to know what to do and what not to do. Her gaze glanced quickly at the screen and her brows furrowed at the picture of Dick staring back at her. Why would he send this kid into a spiral. The session only had ten minutes left, so she went ahead and ended it, wanting to cut the boy off from his trigger than turned her attention to him.

“Can you hear me?” she asked, soft but firm. She needed him to focus, to ground himself before the storm of emotions completely overwhelmed him.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Barbara’s gaze softened, but her voice didn’t waver. “I need you to focus, kid. Three things you can feel, come on. You can do this.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again, his voice shaky but growing steadier with each word. “Three things... okay...”

She watched him, her heart aching as she saw him struggle. But he started to find his bearings, his breathing slowing just a little, his shoulders loosening.

“Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself. “One—the desk. It’s real. It’s solid.”

Barbara could see him focusing, his hands gripping the surface of the desk. He was grounding himself, and that was all she could ask for. He was getting there.

“Two,” he continued, “my hoodie... it’s wet. It’s real.”

“Three,” he said with a tremor, “my chest. I can feel my heartbeat. It’s there. It’s... still there.”

The words came out hoarse, but Barbara could see the shift. The storm inside him hadn’t passed, but the fog had lifted just enough for him to breathe again. She nodded, offering a small smile as she watched him work through it.

“That’s good, kid,” she said, her voice soothing but still strong. “Now, try to match my breathing if you can.”

Barbara exaggerated her breath, slow and steady, the deep inhales and exhales filling the space between them. She needed him to focus on something, anything, other than the overwhelming emotions inside him. The rhythmic motion of breathing helped—she had used it enough in her own life to know it could bring some peace, even if only for a moment.

She saw his hands stop shaking, his body slowly relaxing into the pace of her breath. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It gave him space to collect himself.

When he finally opened his eyes again, they were red, but the tears had stopped. His voice came out soft, but the apology in it was clear.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Please, kid,” she replied with a chuckle, though there was a deep concern in her eyes. “Gotham’s a rough place. You’re hardly the first panic attack we’ve seen in here.”

His smile was small, but it was there, even if it didn’t reach his eyes. She could tell he was still struggling, still battling whatever demons had brought him to this point. But he was trying, and that was enough for now. Now that he was close enough she could see it. The resemblance. She was looking at a younger version of Dick Grayson.

Barbara stayed silent as he stood up, clearly wanting to leave. She could see the way he closed himself off, the way his posture stiffened again. This worried her. She needed to find out more, needed to know if this kid was a clone or a Dick from another dimension. And she wanted to find out before Bruce, as he wasn’t know to be the most gentle or understanding in these circumstances. Clearly this situation called for a gentle touch.

As he gathered his things, he faked a grimace and spoke in a tone that didn’t match his words. “I have to get going,” he said, his voice too casual. “My parents are going to worry if I’m not home soon.”
Barbara knew he was lying, especially because he had Dick’s tells making her theory more plausible. But she didn’t push. She couldn’t. She didn’t have enough information.

Barbara knew she would have to let him go but that didn’t mean she couldn’t keep her eye on him. Between Oracle and Tim, she could probably track his every move.

So, she gave him a long look, one that spoke volumes of concern without saying a word. “Okay, kid. Just... be careful out there, alright?”

Barbara watched him go, her thoughts immediately shifting to the situation at hand. She needed to figure this out as quickly and quietly as possible.

Taking a breath, she pulled out her phone, quickly navigating to the contacts she knew she could rely on in a pinch. Tim. He was... persistent. Maybe even a little too persistent at times, but in Gotham, that kind of tenacity could come in handy. A plus being he had no problem lying to Batman or the rest of the family.

She hit call, and the line rang for a few moments before a tired voice answered on the other end.

“Is this about the case?” Tim’s voice was gravelly, like he hadn’t been sleeping much lately.

“No. I have a new case that just popped up.” Barbara replied, still watching the direction the boy left.

****

Tim rubbed his eyes as the phone rang, exhaustion weighing on him. It had been a long few days, but he knew better than to ignore Barbara’s calls. She didn’t reach out unless it was important. The moment she spoke, he could tell she was already in “mission mode.” No pleasantries, no time wasted. She was sharp, focused, and it made his instincts kick into gear.

“No. I have a new case that just popped up,” Barbara’s voice came through, clipped and precise. She was all business. That wasn’t unusual, but there was an undercurrent to her tone that made him lean forward slightly.

There was a pause, just long enough for him to wonder if something bigger was coming. Then came the sigh from Barbara’s end. She was already thinking, already plotting.

“Alright, what’s the new problem?” Tim asked. He could feel his curiosity piquing, reaching for the cup of coffee beside him. If Barbara was this abrupt, it usually meant something interesting—or dangerous—was on the horizon.

“There’s a kid. I’ll send you an image of him I pulled from the library cameras. He’s definitely new in town. And he’s…” Her pause was thick, the hesitation hanging in the air like a storm about to break. Tim’s heart rate picked up slightly, the unease in her voice sharpening his instincts.

“I don’t know. He looks like Dick,” she continued, her words slow and deliberate. “Not like 100% match, but there’s definitely something there. And he freaked out at a picture of Dick, like he knew him.”
Tim’s stomach tightened. The last thing Gotham needed was a kid who resembled Dick Grayson—someone who looked enough like him to make Barbara pause. And if he reacted to a picture of Dick like that, it only meant one thing: this wasn’t a coincidence.

“I’m gonna see if I can learn anything from Dick but…” Barbara’s voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken fear hanging in the air.

Tim had seen Barbara like this before—always in control, but right now, even she was struggling to make sense of it. If there was one thing Gotham had taught him, it was that when things started to feel this off, they usually got a hell of a lot worse before they got better.

"You want me to dig into his background?" Tim asked, already pulling up his mental database of contacts and sources. His fingers were already itching for a challenge. He was good at this—at uncovering things that weren’t meant to be found. Hell, just ask Batman about that.

Barbara’s voice came back, even more determined than before. “I want to know who this kid is, before the entire family gets involved.”

“Alright,” Tim said, the resolve creeping into his voice. “I’ll get started right away. I’ll keep this quiet. No need to rattle the cage just yet. But if this kid is connected to Dick… or anyone else, it’s better to have the intel before the whole thing blows up in our faces.”

Barbara didn’t respond immediately, but Tim could hear the tension in her breath. She knew as well as he did that the more time they spent fumbling in the dark, the more chances they gave for this to spiral out of control.

“Thanks, Tim,” she said, and for the first time in the conversation, her voice softened just a little. “Be careful. This isn’t just about the kid. Something about this feels... bigger. And if it gets messy, it won’t just be us cleaning it up.”

Tim’s hand hovered over the phone, but he didn’t answer right away. He didn’t need to. He knew what she meant. They both knew Gotham, and they both knew that when things went south in this city, they didn’t just go south. They plummeted.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve got something,” he finally said, more focused than ever.