NOVEL NEXT Chapter 30: Connection
Mount Justice's residential wing maintained a comfortable temperature despite the early autumn chill that had settled over Happy Harbor.
The reinforced walls and advanced environmental systems ensured that no matter what storms raged outside - meteorological or metaphorical - those within remained protected.
I sat in my assigned quarters, reviewing security protocols on a tablet while simultaneously monitoring external surveillance feeds.
Three days had passed since I'd brought Barbara and Commissioner Gordon to the mountain, and while the immediate panic had subsided, a persistent tension remained - the certainty that the Joker would eventually make his move.
A soft knock at my door interrupted my analysis. I knew who it was before I answered; the security system identified all movement within the facility, and I'd been tracking Barbara's approach through the corridors.
"Come in," I called, setting aside the tablet.
Barbara entered, carrying two steaming mugs.
Her red hair was pulled back in a casual ponytail, and she wore standard-issue Justice League training clothes - a concession to practicality since she hadn't packed extensively for our hasty relocation.
"I thought you might need this," she said, offering me one of the mugs. "Alfred's special blend. He sent it over with Batman this morning."
I accepted the tea with genuine appreciation. "Thanks. How'd you know I was still awake?"
"Educated guess," she replied with a small smile, settling into the chair opposite mine. "You've barely slept since we arrived. Dad's noticed too."
I took a sip of the tea, allowing its warmth to spread through me. "I'm fine."
"You're hypervigilant," she corrected gently. "Constantly monitoring security feeds, checking entry points, analyzing potential vulnerabilities.
Even Batman thinks you're being excessive, which is saying something."
I met her gaze, finding no judgment there, only concern. "The Joker isn't like other threats, Barbara. He doesn't follow patterns or make sense. The moment we relax is the moment he strikes."
"I know," she acknowledged. "But you can't keep this up forever. Even you need rest."
The "even you" caught my attention - a subtle acknowledgment of my enhanced capabilities, something we hadn't directly discussed since the night I'd transformed into XLR8 to bring her here.
"I can handle it," I said, offering a small concession.
"And you're stubborn as hell," she added with a hint of affection. "But that's not why I came to see you."
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
Barbara set her mug down and leaned forward slightly. "We haven't really talked since... well, since that first night here. About what happened. What was said."
The memory surfaced immediately - her kiss in the main chamber, the acknowledgment that our relationship had evolved beyond strategic alliance into something genuine.
In the chaos of security protocols and tactical planning that followed, we hadn't found time to explore what that meant.
"Been busy," I admitted, my words more clipped than usual. "Seemed important to focus on keeping you safe first."
"Always the practical approach," she observed, though her tone held no criticism. "But some things don't fit neatly into security protocols, Samael."
I met her gaze directly. "You mean us."
"Yes," she confirmed simply. "What began as a strategic alliance at school has become something else. Something neither of us planned for."
I fidgeted with the handle of my mug, suddenly finding it harder to maintain my usual composed analysis.
This wasn't a tactical situation I could solve with calculations or strategic planning. This was... feelings. Messy, complicated feelings.
"I didn't expect this," I said finally, my usual precise vocabulary giving way to something more direct. "It was supposed to be just an arrangement. Something that made sense for both of us."
"And now?" she prompted when I didn't continue.
I set my mug down, frustrated by my inability to articulate what was happening inside me. "Now I'm making choices that don't make sense on conventional paper.
The way I reacted when I saw that notebook... I wasn't thinking clearly. I just knew I had to get you somewhere safe, right away."
"You mean kidnapping me and my father in the middle of the night?" A smile played at the corners of her mouth.
"It wasn't kidnapping," I shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my voice. "It was... okay, fine, it was kind of kidnapping. But I had to do something.
The thought of the Joker getting to you because of me-" I stopped abruptly, the emotion rising in my throat making it difficult to continue.
Barbara's expression softened. "That's called caring about someone, Samael. It's a normal human reaction."
"Maybe," I conceded. "But it complicates everything." Especially since I've never had to deal with people I love being in danger of being killed.
It's too unfamiliar - this level of fear.
"Life is complicated," she countered. "Especially in Gotham. Especially when you're connected to people like Bruce Wayne and Batman."
The deliberate separation of those names didn't escape my notice. Barbara was careful to maintain the pretense that Bruce and Batman were separate individuals, though I suspected she knew more than she revealed.
"The Joker went after you because of me," I said bluntly, addressing the core issue directly. "He figured out you matter to me. That puts you in danger. If we keep... whatever this is going... it only gets worse."
Barbara leaned back in her chair, studying me with those perceptive green eyes. "So your solution is what - push me away?
Pretend you don't care? That sounds lonely as hell, Samael. And it won't work anyway."
"It's safer," I argued, though with less conviction than I intended.
"Is it?" she challenged. "The Joker already knows you care about me. Pulling back now won't change that. And besides..." She paused, gathering her thoughts.
"Connections to others aren't just vulnerabilities. They're strengths too. They give us something to fight for."
I ran a hand through my white hair, frustrated by the logic I couldn't argue with since I myself have already been circeling this very argument.
"I just don't want you hurt because of me. I couldn't... I can't let that happen."
Something in my voice must have revealed more than I intended, because Barbara's expression changed - a subtle softening, a deeper understanding.
"You know," she said quietly, "I've noticed something. When you talk about research or tactics or quantum physics, you sound like you're giving a lecture at MIT. All precise terms and complex sentences.
But when you talk about protecting me, your whole way of speaking changes. It gets simpler, more direct. Like the emotion is too big for fancy words."
I blinked, surprised by her observation. "I... didn't realize that."
"It's actually kind of nice," she continued, a small smile forming.
"Knowing I matter enough to make Samael Morningstar, boy genius with the vocabulary of a doctoral thesis, talk like a normal teenager with actual feelings."
"I have feelings all the time," I protested weakly.
"Sure you do," she agreed, her smile widening. "You just usually run them through some kind of internal translator that turns 'I'm worried' into 'I have concerns regarding potential negative outcomes.'"
Despite everything, I found myself smiling back. "I don't sound like that."
"You absolutely do," she insisted. "But not when you talk about keeping me safe. Then it's all 'I had to' and 'I can't let that happen.' Direct. Emotional. Real."
I looked down at my hands, uncomfortable with how accurately she'd read me. "So what?"
"So it tells me something important," Barbara said softly. "It tells me that what's happening between us isn't just some logical extension of our arrangement.
It's something that gets past all those layers of analysis and calculation you wrap yourself in."
She reached across the small table between us, her hand coming to rest lightly on mine. The contact was unexpected but not unwelcome - warm and grounding in a way I hadn't anticipated.
"I'm not asking for promises or declarations," she continued. "I'm just suggesting that we stop pretending this isn't happening because it doesn't fit neatly into some strategic plan."
I looked down at our hands, then back to her face. "What exactly are you saying we should do?"
"That we figure this out as we go," she said simply. "That we allow ourselves to care about each other without immediately analyzing all the ways it might go wrong."
The suggestion ran counter to every instinct I'd developed since arriving in this world. I'd survived by planning, by analyzing, by maintaining control over every variable I could.
What she was proposing felt dangerously like letting go of that control.
"I'm not good at this stuff," I admitted, the words coming out more vulnerable than I'd intended. "Relationships, feelings, all of it. I don't know how to do this without screwing it up."
Barbara smiled. "I noticed. But maybe that's part of what makes this interesting. We're both overthinking, analytical people. This is something that doesn't respond well to that approach."
I found myself returning her smile. "So basically, we're both terrible at this."
"If you need to frame it that way, sure," she agreed, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Though most people would just call it dating."
The term felt simultaneously inadequate and terrifyingly concrete for what was developing between us. "Dating" implied normal teenage concerns, not hiding in a secret mountain base while a psychopathic clown plotted to destroy us.
"This isn't exactly normal dating circumstances," I pointed out.
"Believe me, I've noticed," Barbara replied, her tone warm. "Most first dates don't involve being kidnapped by a boy who turns into a blue velociraptor and whisked off to a secret Justice League facility."
"It wasn't kidnapping," I muttered. "It was a tactical extraction."
"Keep telling yourself that," she said with an amused smile, squeezing my hand gently. "My point is, nothing about this is normal. But that doesn't mean it isn't real."
The acceptance in her voice was unexpected - not just tolerance of my awkward approach to emotions, but appreciation for the person beneath all the analysis and calculation.
Most people found my intensity off-putting or weird. Barbara seemed to find it endearing.
"So what happens now?" I asked, genuinely uncertain.
"Now we admit that whatever this started as, it's something else now," she said. "We figure it out as we go.
And we deal with the current situation - my father and I living in a secret Justice League facility while the Joker plots his next move - one day at a time."
It was a reasonable approach, adaptable to changing circumstances while acknowledging the reality of our current situation. "I can work with that."
Barbara laughed softly. "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming."
"I mean it," I said, more forcefully than intended. "This matters to me, Barbara. You matter. More than I expected. More than makes sense sometimes."
Her expression softened. "That's actually quite sweet, in your own unique way."
A comfortable silence settled between us as we both sipped our tea, the weight of unspoken thoughts and feelings gradually lightening.
"Your dad's worried," I said finally, addressing another aspect of our situation.
Barbara nodded. "He's a cop and a father. Worry is his default setting, especially when his daughter is involved with someone who can transform into a blue velociraptor and kidnap him in the middle of the night."
"Fair enough," I acknowledged. "He's been pretty cool about it, all things considered."
"Dad's seen a lot in Gotham," she replied. "Metahumans, aliens, psychopathic clowns - they're part of the reality he deals with daily.
But you're right, he does have questions. About you, about your abilities, about your connection to Batman and the Justice League."
"And about your safety," I added.
"That most of all," she agreed. "But he's also impressed by your determination to protect me. Not many people would stand up to Batman the way you did."
I hadn't considered how my actions might appear from Commissioner Gordon's perspective.
To me, ensuring Barbara's safety had been non-negotiable, regardless of whose authority I had to challenge.
To Gordon, perhaps it demonstrated something about my character and priorities.
"I meant what I said that night," I told her, my voice dropping lower, more intense. "Your safety isn't up for debate. Not even Batman gets to decide that."
Barbara's expression grew serious. "That kind of absolute stance can be dangerous, Samael. Noble, but dangerous. There are always competing priorities, always difficult choices."
"Not with this," I replied firmly. "Not with you."
She studied me for a long moment. "You know something about the Joker that you're not sharing, don't you? Something that makes you particularly concerned about his threat against me specifically."
Her perceptiveness was impressive, though not entirely surprising given her intellectual capabilities.
Still, I couldn't reveal the true source of my concern - my knowledge of "The Killing Joke" from my previous life, the horrific fate Barbara had suffered in that story at the Joker's hands.
"The Joker is..." I struggled to find words that wouldn't reveal too much. "He's the worst of them. The absolute worst.
What he does to people isn't just killing them. He breaks them first. Makes them suffer in ways that..." I stopped, the emotion threatening to overwhelm my control.
"I grew up in Gotham," Barbara reminded me gently. "I know what the Joker is capable of."
Not everything, I thought but didn't say. Instead, I squeezed her hand tightly. "I won't let him hurt you. I can't."
There it was again - that simplicity of language Barbara had noted, emotion stripping away my usual complex vocabulary.
I couldn't help it; when it came to her safety, all my careful analysis gave way to something more primal, more direct.
Yet in some ways it was a sign of loss of control. She was indeed right with this observation.
I naturally choose the most sophisticated words since they require the most control of ones language - something that so much emotion is stripping from me.
It is both exciting and terrifying.
She nodded, though her expression suggested she wasn't entirely satisfied with my explanation. "Just remember that you don't have to do this alone.
The entire Justice League is involved now. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman - they're all aware of the threat and taking it seriously."
"I know," I acknowledged. "But they have other stuff to worry about. Other threats. The Joker is just one problem for them."
"But not for you," she observed.
"Not when it comes to you," I confirmed, the words coming out with an intensity that surprised even me.
Barbara's expression softened again. "You know, for someone who claims to approach everything through logical analysis, you can be surprisingly protective."
"Is that bad?" I asked, suddenly uncertain. Man do I sound like a child, yet still, these feelings - this fear, it's way too unfamiliar to me.
"No," she said softly. "It's actually... it means a lot. Knowing you care that much."
I met her gaze directly. "I do. More than I expected to when we started this whole fake relationship thing."
A smile spread across her face, warming her eyes. "That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me, Samael Morningstar."
"I wasn't trying to be romantic," I said truthfully.
"I know," she replied, her smile widening. "That's what makes it real."
Before I could respond, the tablet on the table chimed with an alert. I glanced down to see a notification from the mountain's security system: Batman had arrived and was requesting my presence in the command center.
"Duty calls?" Barbara asked, noticing my expression.
"Batman," I confirmed. "He's here and wants to see me."
She nodded, understanding the implications. "Go. We can finish this talk later."
I hesitated, suddenly reluctant to end our discussion despite the summons. "This was... important. Figuring this out between us."
"Me too," she said softly. "And we'll have time to explore it further. The Joker hasn't won yet, and he won't. Not while you have me to protect, and I have you to keep from working yourself to death."
The confidence in her voice was reassuring - not naive optimism, but reasoned determination.
Barbara Gordon was not someone who surrendered to fear or threats, a quality I had come to admire deeply.
I stood, gathering the tablet. "I should go. Batman gets cranky when he has to wait."
Barbara rose as well, and for a moment we stood facing each other in the quiet of my quarters.
Then, with a decisiveness that seemed characteristic of her approach to life, she stepped forward and kissed me -
not the strategic performance from the yacht party, nor the emotional response of our first night at Mount Justice, but something more deliberate and filled with a calming warmth.
When she pulled back, her eyes held mine with quiet certainty. "For luck," she said simply. "Now go see what Batman wants, and try not to fight with him this time."
I found myself smiling despite the seriousness of our situation. "No promises."
As I headed toward the command center, I felt a curious lightness despite the weight of responsibility and concern that had dominated my thoughts since discovering the Joker's threat.
Barbara was right - connections to others weren't just vulnerabilities but sources of strength as well.
The Joker had identified Barbara as my weakness, believing that caring for her made me vulnerable.
Perhaps, in some ways, that was true.
But he had failed to recognize how that same connection might become a source of resolve, of determination that went beyond cold calculation.
Batman was waiting in the command center, cowl down but expression serious. Whatever news he brought, I would face it with renewed clarity and purpose.
The Joker believed he could use Barbara to break me, to force me into becoming something like him.
He had fundamentally misunderstood what drove me - not nihilistic acceptance of meaninglessness, but the determination to protect what mattered to me.
As I entered the command center, Batman looked up from the console, his expression grim. "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Joker has escaped from Arkham."
I nodded, unsurprised. This was always the inevitable next step in the Joker's plan. "When?"
"Approximately three hours ago," Batman replied. "And he left a message. For you."
He activated the main screen, displaying an image that sent ice through my veins despite my mental preparation. On the wall of the Joker's cell, written in what appeared to be blood, were the words:
"READY OR NOT, SAMAEL MORNINGSTAR. THE GAME BEGINS. VENOM AND LIGHT, TOGETHER WE'LL REWRITE THE JOKE."
Beneath it, a crude drawing of a playing card - the Joker - and beside it, a crystal figure that could only represent my Chromastone form.
"He's coming," I said quietly, my fists clenching at my sides. "Sooner than we thought."
Batman nodded, his expression grave. "The League is mobilizing. Gotham is under heightened alert.
But the Joker is unpredictable, and his fixation on you has taken on religious overtones. His therapy sessions at Arkham increasingly focused on the meaning of your name."
"Samael. The Venom of God," I said, recalling the Joker's fascination with the etymology. "And Morningstar-"
"Lucifer," Batman finished. "The light-bringer. The fallen angel. He's constructed an elaborate mythology around you, positioning you as some kind of divine agent of judgment and illumination."
Under other circumstances, the irony might have been amusing -
the Joker's fixation on my name's meaning when it was actually my original name from before I arrived in this world, not some cosmic declaration of purpose he imagined.
The coincidence was strange even to me sometimes, but there was nothing amusing about the threat he represented, especially to Barbara.
"We need to be ready," I said, my voice hardening. "He'll make his move soon, and it won't be direct. He likes to play games first, mess with people's heads."
Batman studied me with that penetrating gaze that seemed to see through pretense. "Your concern for Barbara is understandable, but don't let it cloud your judgment.
The Joker feeds on emotional reactions. He wants you unbalanced, reactive."
"I know how he works," I replied, perhaps more sharply than intended. "And my head's clear. Keeping Barbara and her dad safe is still priority one, but I'm not just running on emotion here."
Batman held my gaze for a long moment before nodding slightly. "Good. Because we'll need both logic and emotion to counter what's coming.
The Joker's obsession with you has created a new pattern in his behavior - more focused, more deliberate than his usual chaos."
I absorbed this assessment, recognizing its significance.
The Joker's fixation on me represented both danger and opportunity - a potential vulnerability in his usually unpredictable approach.
"We'll be ready," I said with quiet determination. "Whatever game he thinks he's playing, whatever test he's designed, he'll find I'm not the player he expects."
As Batman turned back to the console to continue coordination with the League, I found my thoughts returning to Barbara - to our conversation, to the kiss that still lingered, to the strength I'd found in acknowledging what had developed between us.
The Joker believed he could use her to break me, to prove that one bad day could transform anyone into a monster like him.
He had fundamentally misunderstood what drove me - not nihilistic acceptance of meaninglessness, but the determination to protect what mattered to me.
And in that misunderstanding lay his greatest weakness - one I intended to exploit when the inevitable confrontation came.
Barbara was right. Connections weren't just vulnerabilities. They were strengths too. They gave us something to fight for, something to protect.
Something worth any risk.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
Yeah, we got simple word use Samael back, and my God do I sometimes regret my choices.
This chapter was so much easier, since I didn't have to deal with making it all sophisticated anda all that.
So yeah, do tell me how you found it and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)