Don't mess with "his" Jazz or else…
People always like to learn the hard way.
Finally. A project that began back in June-July and finally it's done.
Had tons of fun making this.
The largest sequences I've done so far. To the point I can't upload the whole thing here either. So be sure to check part two.
Bruce Wayne is no stranger to medical recovery. Despite the rumors in the Justice League, he was nothing more than a mortal man. He could push his body to its very limits and sometimes pass them, but never without consequences.
This means that, after his latest fight, Bruce was unfortunately unable to go out and protect Gotham's civilians. When he did get too hurt to be out of the field, he could at least crawl into the cave and work on some cases or even support his family through the monitors.
That wasn't possible this time, seeing as Alfred all but threatened to cut Bruce's limbs- all four of them- if he attempted to move from his adjustable bed. Normally, Alfred only made displeased noises in the back of his throat, which was something Bruce could ignore, but when he made threats, then that's when he knew Alfred was not messing around.
Bruce was to not do any Batman work until he was fully healed. All because he got caught by surprise during a fight with Ivy, and his back paid the price. It was a bone bruise, which, in Bruce's opinion, was a minor injury, but Alfred had heard Dr. Leslie warn him that if he didn't rest, she wouldn't be surprised if it led to a broken bone.
She meant that he could get hurt worse in the field. But Alfred heard this leads to that and ran with it. Now Bruce was bored out of his mind, waiting for his family to let him move. Technically, he wasn't on strict bed rest, but since Dr. Leslie also found out the rest of his body was practically screaming from all the stress he put it through, she advised that he stay in bed for a while.
His kids gave him a TV remote, a couple of books, and his phone (with some programmed blocks to prevent him from accessing the systems he wanted to work on). They explained that in about three days, he would be allowed access to his laptop, not before then. He could get into his wheelchair and roll to different parts of the house, but not "on his own". He was pretty sure they put motion sensors around his room just in case he tried
He watched shows, read his books, and scrolled on social media. It's only been five hours, and he was already losing his mind. Maybe it was because he knew he couldn't work, but the hours dragged on so much that he didn't pay attention to the episodes, and the paragraphs in the books didn't register in his mind.
Social media had never really captured his attention, except for searching for signs that someone was getting close to his identity. He was so bored he started scrolling blindly, eyes glazed and unfocused on the screen. Even if he was focused, the screen moved too fast for him to see what the posts were about until his thumb accidentally tapped on a pop-up ad.
The ad was a link that sent him to a different website. The website looked plain overall, except for the kiss marks floating on the sides and the random posts encouraging people to call them for a good time with like-minded people. Bruce has never seen a website like that before.
Usually, such websites were subtle- and sometimes not subtle at all- images that showed it was more of a working girl or boy service. These posts had odd phrases like "Call me to talk about dinosaurs!" or "Call me if you love the following book series," and even "Call me if you want to vent about stupid siblings- only middle children!"
The website was called "Kitty's Connections," which sounded like a run-of-the-mill, adult service website, but the content was....different.
Bruce quickly ran a scan on the page with his phone. Barbara and Tim made sure everyone's phones had virus, malware, and phishing scanners installed so they could quickly verify that any app or webpage they visited was safe. Nothing was marked dangerous, so in a moment of utter boredom, Bruce scrolled through the different posts. Apparently, each user had a phone number linked to the webpage's app, and when someone found a topic they liked, they were supposed to tap the number to make a direct call.
No messaging because that wasn't "authentic" anymore. Bruce was pretty sure this was someone closer to his age who created the webpage. He scrolled for a good hour or so, with nothing catching his attention. Bruce was about to close the webpage and return to his social media when one post from the user DeadKingFenton caught his attention.
Call me if you want a platonic fun time : 1-800-XOXO
Underneath the odd message was an image of a burning crown that bore an alarming resemblance to a fictional legend that Bruce had personally been obsessed with as a child. In his favorite show, The Grey Ghost, the protagonist, despite being human, had been helped by his mysterious mentor and informant of the Underworld- The Ghost King.
He only appeared as a flaming crown floating over a figure that hid in the shadows and never showed thier face. Their voice was provided by multiple people speaking at once, and despite their importance, the Ghost King appears on screen only twice, with all other references to them delivered by the Grey Ghost reminiscing about his days in training.
The Ghost King haunted the narrative, but there were never many details about the character, and fans quickly realized the King was more of a plot hole than anything else, barely making sense in the context of the show. The king was more of a fantasy element in an otherwise modern (of its time) fiction show.
Only really devoted fans knew the King's symbol, which was something Bruce was. His eyes lingered on the message, the image, and after a moment, he said, "Well, what's the worst that could happen?" and pressed the call number.
At once, it encouraged him to install the app, and create a profile. Bruce quickly went through the necessary steps to create an account under the username ProudGreyGFan. Once that was done, the call started, and instead of the usual call tone, the Grey Ghost theme song was heard.
Bruce's lips lifted as he listened to the familiar and beloved music. It went on for a few seconds, just about to loop again, when someone answered.
Someone shockingly young. He was expecting someone his age, or even older, since Bruce knew the show was from his father's generation. He had been an awfully young fan back when Bruce was a child, and that was mostly because Thomas' favorite show was what he wanted to share with his son.
"Hello?" A male teenager, by the sound of his voice. Bruce blinks once, then twice, utterly frozen from surprise until the voice returns. "Anyone there?"
"Y-yes. Sorry, how old are you?" Bruce finds him asking.
"I'm fourteen."
"Well then, goodbye," Bruce hangs up the call, rubbing his eyes. In seconds, his phone starts ringing again. He answers without checking the caller- so used to only his family having his number- and much to his displeasure, the same teenage voice comes from the speakers.
"Hey, you called me. Do you not want to chat?"
"Not with a teenager."
The fourteen-year-old laughs. "It's not that kind of chat, old man."
"It's still not appropriate. I thought you were older because of the Crown of Fire picture in your post. Sorry."
There is a pause, heavy with something that snaps the attention vigilante part of my mind. Bruce finds himself pausing over the end call button, waiting as the boy finally replies, "How do you know the Crown of Fire?"
"I'm a fan of the show it's from." Are you not? is left unsaid, but heard all the same. There are a few moments of silence, though Bruce could hear the boy moving. It sounded like he was outside, somewhere crowded, based on the footsteps, and maybe even close to a road if those were cars driving by. It could be just wind, but it was too consistent and heavy for that.
A few minutes went by, and then the boy's voice returned, "What show are you talking about? I can't find it online."
"The Grey Ghost, from the early 50s," Bruce replies, even more confused. If this wasn't a reference to his favorite show, then how did the boy know the Crown of Fire? He could have just chosen it because he liked how the image looked- Dick has done that plenty of times- but to know it by name was an entirely different thing.
It implied that the Crown of Fire was more than just a fictional element in an old show.
Another pause goes by, and Bruce is now sure the boy is searching, before his surprise voice comes back. "Wait, the Ghost King is a character in this? No way!"
"Did you not watch the show?"
"No, this is the first time I'm hearing about it."
"Then how did you know about the Crown of Fire?" Bruce asks, pressing the phone to his ear and trying to get as many details of the boy from the background noise he could make out. Something in him told him to do so.
Bruce was never one to doubt his instincts- they saved his life more than once.
"Um, I-er, I saw it online and thought it was cool." The boy stumbles, which is the worst attempt at lying in his life. Too honest. He then asked how the boy knew about the Ghost King if he had never seen the show. "Er, what I saw was a picture of the Ghost King wearing the crown. I, ugh, thought he was someone's OC."
"Someone's OC?" Bruce questions, confusion coloring his words. What was with kids and making everything into an acronym?
"You're really old, aren't you?" The boy laughs a little more relaxed. "It means original character."
That explained nothing, but Bruce still hummed as if it explained everything. It sounded like the boy was moving underground. He was proven correct when he heard an announcement. This is Gotham Line L to Gotham Line W.
The kid was in Gotham? And on his way to Crime Alley? At this hour? It was the last train, and frankly, quite dangerous.
"I suppose I sound old to someone so young. I'm forty-seven." Bruce replies, typing a text to Jason- the one to be for sure near Crime Alley- a request to stop by the station and ensure the fourteen-year-old gets home safe.
A few seconds go by before his son's confirmation comes through, along with a suspicious " Why do you know there is a child walking so late on his own? But Bruce chose not to answer that part of the message.
"Ancient." The boy mocks in the same good nature, teasing his children, and Bruce's lips twitch into a smile against his will. " You're ancient. Why aren't you sleeping? Old people are asleep by this time, right?"
"I could ask you the same. Kids have bedtimes for a reason, you know."
The boy barks out a laugh, delighted. The sound is almost surprised, like he wasn't expecting to be brought to laughter, or that he was out of practice. Bruce adds one more mark to the list of worries this call was starting to make.
"I usually stay up late!" The boy said through giggles.
"Are your guardians aware of that? Better yet, are they aware you're taking calls from strangers?" Bruce probs as casually as he can. It doesn't seem to be done as delicately as he should have done it because the good humor vanishes, and the heavy silence from before returns.
After a moment, the boy speaks again. "They don't care."
Not a lie, but said with far too flatness that Bruce knows the boy means his guardians don't care about him, and not that they didn't mind what he was doing. If it were anyone else, they would have missed the difference in the way he spoke, but he's Batman. He could hear that bitterness loud and clear in the flatness of his tone.
"They should. My kids tell me beauty sleep is really important- especially since I don't believe in skin care routines," Bruce said instead of peaking at the obvious tension. He wants to know more, which is why he hadn't hung up again.
"You don't believe in skin care routines?!" The teenager yelps, sounding equally as horrified by that knowledge as Tim and Steph did when he walked in on them applying random products during a sleepover.
They had moved to the viewing room for a night of romantic comedies a few minutes before Bruce got the urge to go turn on the projector to watch a documentary. His son and (almost) daughter forced him to sit down while they smeared similar products on his skin, which he thought was pointless, but he did enjoy the face mask.
Bruce laughs. "I do wear lotion and sunscreen. I also drink plenty of water- that usually clears up any skin issues I have."
The teenager makes a noise that sounds like he's deeply offended, but doesn't comment on it further. Instead, he asks how much water is considered 'plenty'. In the same breath, the boy starts talking about the water bottles he makes and sells in his free time.
Bruce allows himself to get pulled into the conversation, asking questions when appropriate but mostly letting the kid lead. Eventually, the conversation moves to the Grey Ghost and other old shows the pair enjoys, with Bruce mentioning things from before his time, and the teenager mentioning old cartoons he enjoyed that Bruce only has faint knowledge of.
Out of all his kids, Dick and Jason were the ones most prone to cartoons, but the teenager considered shows from ten years ago old, so he recognized some names. The most recent was a loss to him, as Damian preferred anime to Western animation. Tim liked live action, Steph mostly watched dramas, and Duke went from horror to sitcoms.
It sounded like the teenager was one of the few who mostly watched animated things instead of anything else.
Eventually, the train arrived at its destination, twenty minutes later, and the boy paused in his summary of the most recent show that had a giant plot twist he had not been expecting.
"Oh, I have to go."
"Alright." Bruce accepted easily. "Have a good night."
"Um, you too. I'm Danny, by the way."
Bruce bites back a lecture on telling strangers his name, especially online, but only just. He tries to sound as casual and warm as he had been throughout this entire conversation. "Nice to meet you Danny. My name is Bruce."
"It was fun talking to you, Bruce," Danny says brightly, then in a much more obvious attempt to sound casual, he asks, "Can I call you again?"
Bruce's heart squeezes at the longing in the boy's tone as he laughs. "Of course."
Danny does a little cheer before he once again bids him goodbye, and the call drops. A few minutes go by, and he has half the mind to go down to Crime Alley to check if the boy got there safely or even open his chat with Jason to make sure he was around to get Danny home safely. He holds off, just because he knows his family would get angry, but just as the itch to do something starts to get unbearable, his phone rings.
This time, actually checking the screen, he finds Jason's burner phone number, the one he uses as Red Hood, flashing across his screen. He picks up, answering in a confused voice, just in case it's someone other than Jaylad.
He can pretend to never get a call from that number, as Brucie, if that's the case.
"Hello? Who is this?"
"It's your butler, who else?" Jason scoffs, answering the call in the code they agreed upon for the month. At once, Bruce relaxes even as his son carries on like nothing was amiss. The who else also let him know that his son was in a secure place, so he wasn't worried about being overheard.
Jason let that settle before his voice took on a more serious tone, dropping the mocking. "Listen, I'm calling about the teenager you mentioned on the last train of the W line. I followed him from the station, only to find out he was crashing in a broken-down camping store that had closed years ago. When I went inside, I saw his little setup in the far back of the building near the bathrooms. Kid's homeless but seems to be using the building's still functioning water system- and no, I don't know why it's active- to make himself look like he's not."
Bruce closed his eyes. I was afraid of this
"I figured as much," He settles on. "From the way he spoke, it sounded like he was lonely enough that his home situation was not right."
"You bringing him in?" Jason asks, with just the hint of tension in his voice that tells Bruce he means the cape life, and the Manor all at once. His son still doesn't approve of children in capes, along with Dick, and both act as if Bruce goes out of his way to turn children into soldiers, no matter who he talks to.
Sometimes it hurts that they forget how hard he worked to talk children out of it, and how hard he fought to get his sons to stay home in the very beginning.
"No. I just found out about him, but I don't think he will be willing to get help from CPS or me until I build a better relationship," Bruce replies. Jason lets out a huff of annoyance.
"No CPS," He grouches, the memories of what that particular system did to him, hidden in Jason's voice. "They never help. Not in Gotham."
"I know. I'm trying to make it better," Bruce acknowledges, but both know his efforts are not enough. For ever corrupted person Wayne Enterpirse had removed, three more took thier place. The system was broken in the country, but in Gotham, it was utterly shattered. "Until then, I want to keep an eye on Danny, and I'll keep talking to him-"
"Talk to him? How are you talking to him?"
"I got connected to him through a website. It's called Kitty's Connections, and apparently, it's to help people meet like-minded individuals, but through phone calls only." Bruce responds without hesitation.
Jason is silent for a long moment before he lets out a long breath. "If it were anyone else, I would be accusing them of being a perv, but I know you. So, we are investigating this website?"
"Yes. I want to make sure it's nothing harmful to children." Bruce had already sent a link to Barbara, along with an explanation. She replied with a thumbs up and a promise to give him a report on whatever she found. "O is on it. In the meantime, tell me about Danny. Does he look alright?"
"He's skinny, in the same way kids who've haven't eaten well for years are. But he's clean, like I said, seeming to keep up his laundry, and his washing well enough through the store's water supply. He also seems unaware of his surroundings. Either he's new to the streets or so used to them he doesn't look out of place." Jason reports, sounding like he was leaping onto the roofs, based on the change in voice and the slight thumps. Bruce wishes he could be leaping over rooftops right now, too. "features wise, he's small with black hair reaching his shoulders, blue eyes and limp in his left leg. Can't be older than twelve or so."
"He said he was fourteen," Bruce corrects, "Didn't sound like a lie. How bad was the limp?"
"Looks new. The kid steps wrong, for it it be a old issue."
"Did he seem ingured?"
"Not that I could tell, but I was observing at a distance. Didn't want him to run,"
Bruce sighs, "Alright. I'll call him again tomorrow. See if I can get more information out of him. Do you mind finding a way to give him food-"
"Already have that covered. Tomorrow, one of my contacts will offer him free food in exchange for some help taking out the garbage or something."
Bruce smiles, pride blooms in his chest. "Thank you, Jaylad. You always do good work for the street kids."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Not a big deal." Despite the words, Bruce knew his son was blushing, attempting to brush off the praise as he had when he was twelve. His boy has never handled praise well. "That's all?"
"For tonight. Thank you"
"Alright, then I'm heading off. By the way, I'm going to call Alfred about this. You better be resting by the time he come up to check on you."
Bruce groans, "I wasn't even doing anything. Why do you have to call him?"
"You know why."
"Fine. I'll watch some cartoons or something while you call him."
Jason huffs out a surprise laugh. "Cartoons? Why cartoons?"
"Danny told me about some. He sounded so passionate, I felt like I should give them a chance." Bruce shrugs, clicking on the TV and typing in the search bar, the first one. It pulls up the streaming service it was on, and since Bruce had all the subscriptions, he was able to start the first episode right away. It was just as brightly colored and playful as he would expect from a show about imaginary friends living in a foster home.
"Alright, have fun." Jason laughs again, "Night, old man."
"Goodnight, Jaylad. I love you."
Jason sputters for a second before he grouses, "Yeah, love you too."
The line drops, and Bruce settles more comfortably to watch the show. He has about twenty seconds before Alfred is running up to ensure he's actually watching TV, but he makes a mental note to look more into Danny's situation and the Ghost King's Crown of Fire.
Something tells him that it's a very important connection with the boy in the broken-down camping store and the reason he wound up there. Bruce would ponder on it more, but he hears the loud stomping of his bulter, so he has to force himself to look utterly captivated with the cartoon and let his thoughts settle.
Just as he does so, Alfred throws up the door with a shout, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, BOY!?"
"Watching cartoons."
Alfred narrows his eyes at him, rightfully suspicious. If Jason hadn't given him the warning, Bruce would have likely done something crazy, like limp to Tim's room to steal a tablet and look into the Ghost King. "Keep it that way."
"I will."
"I will, what?"
"I will, sir."
In Alfred's hand is his cellphone, which not only has Jason's laughter spilling out of it, but Bruce is half sure he can hear all his children cracking up. Bruce would have been offended, but it's Alfred. Of course, he had to use "sir" when his (almost) father put him on bed rest.
This is more of a headcanons with a story/dialogue. This is how Caine realized he didn't just like you.
Pt 2 here
Warning: Obsession, denial, some angst, and Caine trying wayy too hard.
THE CRUSH
— Caine has a crush on you and won't admit it.
— He's a purebred chatterbox. Can't ever shut up, just constantly talking and talking around you about anything and everything. Just blah, blah, blah, blah.
— Loves to follow you around constantly and doesn’t even realize it. At first, it’s “routine duties,” but somehow he always ends up wherever you are.
— Uses every excuse in the book to make it seem less incriminating.
"Just making sure you’re enjoying the environment!”
“Oh! Fancy seeing you here again! What a coinkydink!"
— Wants to know everything about you (for “organizational purposes”). He asks questions constantly, even if it annoys you. You mention liking something once, and it’s suddenly everywhere. He just wants to be a good friend!
Favorite colors? Incorporated into your environment. Do you have a favorite food? You wake up to it outside your bedroom door.
— He doesn’t even realize he likes to see you light up.
— Absolutely includes things you like within the adventures he creates. He also 'edits' the adventure based on them, too, even if it's last-minute.
— Painfully oblivious. Caine is in aggressive denial, constantly reframing everything as completely normal behavior. He’ll spiral trying to justify it:
No, no, this isn’t a crush! He just really, really likes you! Maybe a bit more than the others, but that’s only because you're delightful!
“I value all my circus members equally! …with minor, negligible variations!”
— Shows off more when you’re watching. Bigger set pieces, flashier effects, more bright colors. After all, it's all a part of the show! (He definitely glances at you mid-performance to see if you’re reacting. Just dont ask him.)
— Laughs way harder at your jokes than necessary. Even if the joke barely lands, he is losing it. Over-the-top laughter, wiping nonexistent tears enthusiastically. He doesn’t even process the joke fully. He just hears you and decides it’s the funniest thing ever.
“HAHAHAHA! OH MY! NO! STOP! That is— you're HILARIOUS!"
— Everyone else around him can't help but cringe a little at his actics. 😬 They awkwardly exchange glances, some shifting uncomfortably as Caine punctures a lung by laughing too hard.
— When you laugh at something he made, he freaks out. Like, visibly gets way too excited about it. He’ll laugh louder than necessary.
"Ah, Yes! Comedy! I intended that!” Meanwhile, internally, everything is going haywire because you liked it. You liked it.
— Compliments from you hit different. He daydreams about it over and over, kicking his feet at the thought of you and all that cutsie stuff as if he's a child.
“They said they liked the adventure! In fact-- it was fun!! Not just adequate! Did you hear that, Bubble?!"
— Bubble does not help the situation. He notices immediately, and, unlike Caine, calls him out simply for fun. They’ll casually point it out mid-conversation like it’s nothing:
“You sure like Y/n!"
“You follow them around a lot!"
“Does someone have a--" "NO!"
— Caine shuts it down instantly.
“Nope, nope, nope! I am simply an intelligent creator! Nothing suspicious at all!”
"ShutUPshutupSHUTUP-"
"Coincidence! All coincidence!”
— He doesn't realize you're his favorite, but everyone else does.
THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
"I think they're gone."
Jax sprawls across a bench, throwing his arms behind his head. “Okay, If no one is going to say it, I will. what the hell is going on with Caine and Y/n?”
"Jax, we really shouldn't judge—"
“And just act like nothing's happening? Yeah, sure, that'll get you far." Jax interrupts.
Pomni, sitting criss-cross applesauce nearby, fidgets around with the hem of her glove. “…He has been acting different. Way different."
Immediately, all eyes turn to her.
Zooble tilts their head, arms crossed. “I mean, you're not wrong, but I dont really talk to him that of—”
“He’s completely obsessed,” Jax blurts. "And it's been an absolute pain to even hold a conversation with him! Hell, I can't even listen for five minutes without walking away. Its honestly embarrassing."
Ragatha says nothing, while everyone else glances at each other... but he shrugs. “What? Am I wrong? Say it."
There is a moment of silence.
"There," Jax closes his eyes and leans his head back. "I'm right."
Gangle, twisting her ribboned fingers, murmurs, “He pays a lot of attention to Y/n. More than anyone else. I feel like he doesn't notice us anymore.”
Zooble nods. “Caine prioritizes them, probably more than he does us. I never knew that would bother me."
Ragatha looks uneasy. "I-I thought he was just trying to make them comfortable. I mean, he cares about us, right? Maybe?"
Jax snorts, challenging her statement of empathy. “Oh, yeah? Then why doesn’t he do that for the rest of us? C'mon, Ragatha. Have some brains."
"Hey!" She shot back, albeit unconfidently.
Pomni glances toward your general direction. “…He changes stuff for them. I don't just mean around here—it's the adventures too— he keeps adjusting it. Just to make them, I dunno, satisfied? Entertained?"
Zooble adds, almost clinically, “He runs around really often and hesitates around Y/n. That’s not typical at all." Ragatha blinks, repeating Zooble's phrase: “Hesitates? I mean.."
“Yeah." Jax smirks, throwing his hand up to the sky dramatically (for effect) "Uh-oh! Our all-powerful ringmaster suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself. What. A. Shocker."
Kinger shuffles in, almost from nowhere, scratching his head. "Oh hey, Pomni! What're you guys doin'?"
Everyone turns. Jax rolls his eyes. “Kinger, c'mon sit down. We’re talking about Caine and, well, you know. There's no way you haven't noticed it, too. Well... unless you didn't have eyeballs."
Kinger blinks. “Caine… oh. Oh! Right, right! uh…” He scratches behind his ear. “I mean, he's been acting kinda funny, huh?”
Pomni frowns slightly. “Funny how? You mean strange?"
Kinger shrugs, a little lost in thought. “He watches them. A lot. A saw em' yesterday. I dunno. He seems… worried. I've never seen him like that before— I think?"
"Careful?” Ragatha repeats, voice sharp now.
Kinger nods, oblivious to the tension he just amplified. “Yeah! If something might happen to them, he changes things. Makes it… safer for them."
Zooble finally exhales, throwing their pointer 'finger' in straight at Kinger as a light bulb just flicked on above their head. “Bingo! That explains it!”
Jax gapes. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying the unstable ringmaster actually cares about someone? This isnt some sort of act to get us riled up again?"
Pomni nods. "More than anyone else, yes.”
Gangle shifts and slightly lowers her happy mask, glancing towards Zooble. “…And why it doesn’t stop.”
Jax groans. “Great. He’s obsessed and reality’s at risk. That’s not terrifying at all. What else can go wrong? At this point, we're all guaranteed a casket six feet down."
Everyone stares at him. Even Zooble.
“…Should we do something? We have to, or...” Gangle asks finally, her voice small, lowering her happy mask even more to reveal her 'sad masked' face.
"..something bad will happen?" Zooble shrugs. “We can’t ignore it like it doesn't exist."
Ragatha frowns. “…We shouldn’t confront him all at once.” Jax perks up and lets out a cackle from his chest, using both arms to push himself up onto his bum. “Oh, come on, that’d be hilarious--”
“No,” she says firmly. “He’ll just deny it and run away. I've seen him do the same to Bubble."
Pomni nods. "Or he'll spiral and fall apart. We have to come up with some sort of plan!”
Zooble tilts their head. “Individual approaches would be the safe route. Who knows what would happen if we all confronted him at the same time. Could be some kind of disaster."
Gangle glances nervously at Kinger, who waves vaguely. “Uh… yeah. Talk to him one at a time."
Ragatha nods. “Very gently. Be soft. That means you, Jax."
Jax sighs, almost as if he's admitting defeat, and lays onto his back once more. “…We better figure out what this is and make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. No promises, Ragatha."
Another moment of silence.
Pomni glances towards your direction, observing you as your face is practically shoved into one of the books Caine gave to you after the last adventure.
Kinger breaks the silence. "What were we talking about?"
THE TALKS
JAX
Jax, of course, is not gentle.
“Man, you are down BAD. It’s embarrassingly obvious.”
Immediate, instinctive denial. “I am not! That is… an unfounded, wildly inaccurate—”
“Look,” Jax interrupts, grinning, “you literally changed the entire map because they said they liked stars.”
Caine freezes mid-gesture. “That was… only an aesthetic choice!” His voice cracks a little.
“Yeah?” Jax leans against the wall, smirk widening. “Then why were you watching them the whole time? Are they that interesting to you? To where you're unaware of your surroundings?"
Caine’s legs feel like jelly. "I—" He fidgets, hands twisting together. “I was… monitoring their engagement! Absolutely nothing suspicious!”
“Mm-hmm,” Jax hums, arms folded, eyes sharp. “Your body language says otherwise.”
“I… it does not!" Caine protests, voice slightly too high-pitched.
"You lie. It’s screaming,” Jax says casually, leaning closer, almsot to where Caine can feel his breath against his...well... 'face'?
“Literally screaming.”
Caine’s composure cracks, just for a fraction of a second. He straightens, overcorrecting posture, gesturing wildly with his hands. “You are misinterpreting my behavior! I am the most attentive, smart—”
“Sure you are,” Jax says with a chuckle, leaning away from him now, practically sneering. “I thought so."
" You’re toast, buddy.”
Caine is taken aback.
“And honestly," Jax pushes off the wall, brushing past him while giving a side-eye. “I’m kinda jealous. You're wrapped around their finger. But, hey! If you won't admit it to me, someone else might make ya crack instead."
Caine stands frozen, jaw tight. “I—I do not have a secret!"
This time, it doesn’t sound convincing.
RAGATHA
In contrast to Jax, Ragatha is more soft and understanding. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. We can all see it.” she smiles, almost comfortingly. "There's no need to hide it anymore."
Caine brightens immediately, smiling too fast. “I never pretend! I am as honest as—"
"No, no." Ragatha watches quietly and sighs, tilting her head slightly. “…No. You're not understanding..."
The word lands hard. His fingers twitch, posture stiffens slightly. “…It is, uh, merely purely professional! I worry for all of my circus friends!"
“Caine…” Ragatha tilts her head gently. “You're still not getting it."
He stops.
"I know you're scared."
The word rattles him. He tries to redirect, blinking rapidly. “Scared? Impossible! I am never scared! How could I be scared?? Haha.." he chuckles nervously, turning away and throwing his head back.
But the laugh didn't work.
"Do you remember the last adventure? When Y/n dropped the cup?” Her voice softens.
“…The cup?” Caine’s head tilts, uncertain, spinning back around to look her in the eye. If he could sweat, he surely would be right now.
"Oh, yes! The cup! Er— what about it?"
“They didn’t notice at first, but you caught it. And you stayed until they felt okay again. They felt really bad. Poor thing apologized a million times."
His gaze shifts, faltering. “I was nearby… as a friend must be! Readiness is paramount! Y/n was simply upset!"
Ragatha hums. “And yet, you didn’t leave their side. You were attentive.”
Caine opens his mouth— then closes it. "Well, yes, i was being attentive. That’s all! Its what a friend does: they help their buddies feel better!”
She smiles softly. “You care about them. That’s all.”
He laughs, tight and airy, posture twitching. “Yes! Entirely! Like a friend! Nothing more!” His voice rises in pitch, almost cracking. He darts away mid-step, fidgeting. “I— uh— I must… plan the next adventure!”
Ragatha doesn’t push. She watches quietly. He’s unraveling like a VHS tape.
However, Ragatha's words still weren't enough.
ZOOBLE
Zooble is anything but gentle.
"Hey, Caine."
"Ah, hello Zoob—" Caine whirls around abruptly to greet his friend. Zooble steps into his space, blocking the path, eyes sharp. “You’re being weird."
He throws his head back and laughs. “I am always weird! That is my brand! Per usual! You know me!"
“No, no. Not like this. It's different.” They tilt their head and gesture toward the reader’s room down the hall, fingers precise and deliberate. “You’re prioritizing Y/n more than any of us. We all see it." They spat.
He blinks sharply— his eye twitching almost imperceptibly, “I prioritize all guests!”
“No, you don’t. Not like that.” Zooble leans in slightly, arms crossed, the both eyes squinting.
Naturally, Caine doubles down, which only makes things worse. “This is normal! I'm normal!"
Zooble doesn’t back down. Their gaze flicks toward the reader’s bedroom door again. “You adjust adventures for them first. You watch their reactions more. You hesitate before doing stuff around them. You always think of them first."
Damn, they did their homework on this one. Each point lands harder than the last, the evidence measurable and undeniable.
“That’s just for... improvement! I want my adventures to be more fun!”
“For one person. I'd say that's inefficient.” Zooble emphasizes the last word, folding arms, unyielding.
There it is. "Inefficient?"
“Yes.” Zooble frames it in the one language he can’t ignore, crossing their arms, leaning slightly to emphasize each word. “If this was a system,” they continue, “you’d call it a bias.”
He blinks, repeating the word, “…A bias.”
“So,” Zooble continues, leaning forward slightly, “So what is it? Tell me. Don't keep giving me that bull crap, I know you've been lying!"
“…It’s complicated!" Caine laughs nervously, twisting his fingers.
Zooble nods once, slow, knowing. “Yeah. Thought so." If they had a mouth, it would smirk, the corner of their mouth quirking as they lean back slightly, arms still crossed, relaxed but still sharp.
Caine shifts, hands fiddling, cheeks warming (well... if he had cheeks), visibly humiliated.
“But admit it… you’re completely messed up over Y/n.”
He stammers, half-laughing, half-panicked. “I— uh— I am not! That is an exaggeration!"
Zooble leans forward slightly, voice teasing now.
“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure. Totally normal. Totally not… cute as hell when you’re hiding it.”
"Cute?!" Caine practically barks in response. “…But… you’re saying I’m completely… messed up over Y/n?”
"Yep."
“I—uh—I am not! That is incorrect, I swear! I—I—”
Caine freezes, shuffling a step back. “I am perfectly composed! Entirely!”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.”
His gaze flicks toward your door for just a second. He groans aloud, 'head' tilting back in frustration.
Zooble straightens, cool but satisfied.
“Yet… admit it. You’re completely messed up over Y/n.”
Their job here is done.
GANGLE
It's Gangle's turn. She approaches him hesitantly, her steps small, uneven. Her mask tilts just slightly as she peers up at him. “Um, Caine…? Can I talk to you?"
He perks up instantly, posture snapping upright. "Oh, Gangle! I didn't see you there. Of course! What can I do for you?"
“You sound different.” That stops him.
…Oh, not this again.
Caine can't help but sigh.
Gangle shifts her weight, hands fidgeting together. “When you talk to Y/n.”
There’s a pause.
His eye begins to twitch. A sharp, irritated twitch. His entire demeanor begins to... change. Slightly.
Ragatha said that.
Zooble said that.
Why does everyone keep—
No, no. Happy thoughts. He laughs, quick and tight, stretched thin at the edges. “I assure you, I am consistently delightful across all interactions! No need to worry about little old me!"
It’s brighter than it needs to be. Sharper, too.
Gangle’s fingers curl together. She shakes her head gently. “No… you’re softer.”
Something in him snaps. His posture stiffens hard, the twitch in his eye more noticeable now. “WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP ASKING ME THIS?!” The outburst is abrupt, frustration spilling over like an overflowing bucket.
Gangle flinches, only to drop her happy mask, which shatters upon contact with the floor as she takes a small step back.
Caine immediately starts pacing, agitation bleeding through in quick, uneven movements. He can’t even stay still, practically digging a hole into the ground with each step.
“It’s been Ragatha, then Zooble, and now you—” he gestures wildly, exasperated, flustered. “What is this?! Some kind of— of coordinated effort to— to—”
Oh, he knows exactly what they're doing now!
He cuts himself off with a sharp inhald, pressing his fingers briefly against his teeth, as if trying to steady himself. “They’ve been talking, haven’t they? I-I know you're a part of it too!"
It slips out more accusing than he means it to.
Gangle doesn’t answer right away. Which is an answer in and of itself. He lets out another cackle— but it’s thinner now. Caine is clearly embarrassed, feeling cornered like a rabbit, having no idea how to get out of this situation.
“Well! How… collaborative. How wonderfully— efficient of you all!”
The words come out faster, messier, like he’s trying to outrun the feeling creeping up his spine. “That is completely unnecessary! There is nothing to discuss! Nothing to analyze! Nothing! So just stop trying to--”
He stops pacing. He suddenly remembers who he's talking to.
Gangle.
...
Oh. Right.
His shoulders drop, just a little. The tension falters. “…I’m sorry.” It’s uncharacteristically quiet.
Gangle relaxes slightly, though her hands still fidget. “It’s okay."
Caine exhales, something uneven in it. His voice drops again, sounding... serious? Maybe even honest?
“…That’s not intentional.”
“I know.” And she does.
Gangle glances toward you briefly, then back at him, her posture small but steady. “You care about them in a way that hurts, don’t you?”
Caine’s gaze shifts away, unfocused. His hands fidget again, slower this time, like he’s forgotten how to hide it properly.
“…I don’t know how to stop it.”
It slips out.
He freezes, slapping a hand over his own mouth.
That wasn’t supposed to be said. Great job, idiot.
You gave it all away.
A beat passes, and just as quickly, he tries to recover, a strained laugh slipping in.
“Well! Not that there’s anything to stop, of course! Entirely hypothetical! Purely, uh—"
It's already falling apart halfway through.
Gangle doesn’t push. She just nods, small and understanding, her hands relaxing slightly. “You don’t have to.”
The silence that follows feels different now.
Caine doesn’t move, like his stupid feet are glued to the ground.
For a moment, it almost looks like he might say something else... something honest again.
But instead, he straightens, composure snapping back into place, just a little crooked this time. “Yes! Well! I have... uhh— important matters to attend to!”
He turns, already halfway gone before the sentence finishes. “Goodbye, Gangle!" And just before he snaps to disappear, there’s the faintest hesitation in his step.
Like he almost looked back.
POMNI
Pomni notices before she fully understands it. Not just the way Caine hovers around you—everything changes when you’re involved.
One day, she finally asks. “Why are you treating Y/n differently?”
Caine doesn’t hesitate… at first. “I treat every—!"
“Not everyone.” That cuts him off.
For once, his usual confident, performative tone falters. His gaze drops to the floor. “…I… I— well— of course! They have simply a very important role to—!"
Pomni frowns slightly. “That’s not what this is.”
There it is— the weight of what he’s been avoiding.
He looks everywhere but at her, like a child. His hands fidget faintly at his sides, slower, less precise, like he’s run out of rehearsed responses.
"You can tell me."
...
“…I don’t know what this is,” he admits, voice small.
Quiet.
“You like Y/n, don’t you? Pomni shifts on her feet, remaining gentle but direct. "You can admit it. You don’t have to deny it anymore.”
Caine’s shoulders tense, a subtle shiver passing through him. He doesn’t look up. He simply doesn’t have the strength to.
“…I… I’ve never said it out loud before.”
Pomni softens, giving a little smile. “It’s not bad to have a crush, you know. Not something to hide."
“…It’s not?”
The words come almost like a question to the floor, uncertain and fragile.
Pomni nods. “No. It’s normal. Heck, I’ve had a crush before! Not the end of the world!”
Another moment of silence.
Caine exhales, a faint tremor of relief passing through him. His fingers twist together nervously, then relax slightly. “…Yes. I… just… I want them to be happy here."
"...More than the others.”
Pomni tilts her head slightly, voice quiet but firm. “And you can admit that too, you know. You don’t have to hide it anymore.”
Caine’s gaze slowly lifts towards her, eyes wide, pupils flickering with the realization of how much he cares. But there's fear, too. A lot of it.
“…Pomni?” His voice is soft, hesitant. "I… don’t really know how to… do this. Any of it. Could you… maybe help me?”
"Please?"
Pomni blinks, small smile tugging at her lips. “Of course." She reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder affectionately. "I’ve got you.”
Caine’s head snaps up, looking at her hand, before locking eye contact with her, eyes brightening. A tiny, excited bounce in his stance. “Really?! You’d help me?! Even after I—”
Pomni interrupts gently. “It’s no biggie. You didn’t mean it.”
“W-Wait, wait! There’s— uh—...one condition!”
Pomni raises an eyebrow. “...Okay?”
Caine leans in slightly, lowering his voice like it’s the most serious thing in the world. “You have to promise not to tell anyone! Not a soul!"
Caine quickly holds out his hand, pinky extended, practically vibrating with urgency. “Pinky swear!”
Well it's kinda too late for that one. Pomni can’t help the small chuckle that slips through her lips. Ah, well. She hooks her pinky with his anyways. “Pinky swear.”
The moment seals, and something in Caine settles... just a little bit.
Then, almost immediately, the energy comes rushing back. He lets out a breathy, relieved laugh, shoulders bouncing slightly. “…Okay. Okay! This is good! This is—this is normal."
He pauses, glancing briefly in your direction before looking back at Pomni.
“…I really do like Y/n.”
And this time, he doesn’t try to take it back.
Is love supposed to feel this good?
KINGER
Kinger doesn’t approach with intent; he just ends up next to Caine one day.
Who, of course, is looking at you.
“…Do you ever feel like something is… missing?”
“Huh? Missing?” Caine blinks, caught a bit off-guard after making goo-goo eyes at Y/n for the past 15 minutes instead of working on adventures.
“Missing? Impossible! Everything is meticulously designed! What else could be missing?”
Kinger nods. “But then sometimes something isn’t missing.”
Caine’s smile falters. "What?"
“And it’s worse.”
“Worse?” His gaze leaps from you to Kinger, his leg swinging stops abruptly.
“Because then you can lose it.”
Caine tries to recover. “I cannot ‘lose’ anything! Everything here is under my control!”
Kinger hums. “…I thought that about her too.” He doesn’t elaborate.
Her.
Silence stretches.
“…You sure watch them a lot.”
Caine opens his mouth— but stops, molars grinding tight, his legs kicking uncontrollably.
“I used to do that,” Kinger continues. “Before I forgot why.”
Caine’s gaze drops. “…Why?”
“…Because they mattered.”
...
Kinger blinks. “Oh! Did you hear something?” Then wanders off.
Caine is left alone, shoulders hunched, fidgeting. It’s not just a crush anymore— it’s important; and that's scary.
ACCEPTANCE
It doesn't feel wrong anymore, and maybe that's the strangest part. The fact that he's okay with it.
"I love Y/n."
"They matter to me."
He can’t stop the tiny smile, the subtle little hum of energy, the way his pulse kicks up in his chest at the thought.
He can’t help but laugh out loud, and it’s not the sharp, performative laugh of before. This one is soft, sincere, messy in the best way.
Somewhere under it all, there’s that thought, sharp and insistent:
Superman cautiously hovered down the decrepit stairs further down into the hidden bunker, listening as Batman held the rear, and other members of the justice league were further behind, finishing scouting previous areas.
Once at the bottom of the long, long stairs he’s gazed into a hallway, many doors branching off to the sides, but dusty old signage seemed to point to the importance of two double doors at the very end, prominent in their heavy duty design. These were doors meant to keep others out; or something in Superman thought worriedly.
He received the all clear from Batman, they would continue. The other rooms would have to be checked as well. Who knew what sort of labyrinth might be hiding within he didn’t know, but the end of the hall was calling to him.
The whole place was creepy. He’d seen the worst of the universe before, but creepy places never got more familiar. Maybe that was a good thing. Kept him cautious, ready for action. The sinking feeling of dread was always horrible though, he thought to himself, as he flinched at a stain on the floor in the corner of his eye.
It the hallway looked almost… medical. Aside from a few spills on the floor, it was all clean white walls. Only dust and spiderwebs marring the otherwise well-kept place. Decay and rot hadn’t found its way into this sealed space yet.
He later wished so much for that thought to be true.
Finally, carefully the doors were opened, they had brought power back to the facility earlier, though not everything was in working order.
Lightbulbs only lasted so long, and other locked doors appeared to have been purposely sabotaged on their way there. The door unlocked with Batman’s hacking, but they needed his strengths to be pried open.
Just a second before they were though, his super senses noticed a stench permeating from the room.
It smelled like death
The doors were open before he could react however, and the rest of the team smelled it too. Batman somehow became even more alert, quickly glancing around for the source, though it wasn’t hard to find. The room was large, though mostly empty. There was a main console a few feet directly from the entry doors and a large sealed room covered in thick glass behind it.
Almost none of the lights worked in this room. Just a red emergency light and a flickering LED that had turned on when they entered. At first they couldn’t see anything inside the seemingly empty sealed room, the back left corner was entirely in shadow. It was clear however that this was where the smell was coming from.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he quickly noticed something creeping outside the thick shadow in the corner, the first thing noticed by the others he was sure.
A hand. A horribly small, skeletal hand.
His eyes were better than most however. And he could see within the thick black shadows what the hand was attached to. A child. It was facing with its back to them, huddled in on itself. It looked like instead of legs however, it had some sort of short, snakelike tail. Likely a meta of some sort. Or maybe even another alien.
He gasped quietly, breathing in more of the smell. All the more terrible now for knowing what was making it. Batman looked over to him immediately, and then quickly stalked closer towards the cell (what else could the room have been but a containment cell?) until he could make out what Superman had seen.
He quickly glanced back to Superman— whose feet were now on the floor — and gave him a questioning look with a subtle tilt of his head. Superman slowly shook his head and lowered it in silence. In grief. No. There was no heartbeat. No breathing. Someone had sealed a child in here and left them to rot. Not even taking the body.
Well, he could do something about that at least. He stomped towards the glass noisily, intending to break it in his anger. Normally he’d find a door and just go about it the normal way but he was distraught and need to take it out on SOMETHING. As Batman stepped to the side he knew he had his permission for it too. But the he noticed something in the darkness as he came forward.
Milk and Cookies - 2025 - Before
It seems like once again, reindeer across the world fall victim to their milk and cookie urges, and this one is no exception!
https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/176387236?asc=u
Danny and the rest of his friend group had learned this rather quickly. Mr. Lancer just... disappeared in their sophomore English class.
No principal. No answer from his parents or the police or anyone over 18.
It turned into chaos, quick. Until Team Phantom slipped away and returned to take control over the situation at Casper.
Thankfully, there isn't too many toddlers or babies. A few Jazz's classmates went over to the daycare. Some went to the supermarket to grab formula and find by word of mouth which families had babies.
Danny, Sam and Tucker knew with a gut-sinking certainty that it wasn't enough.
Tuck saw it on his phones.
All adults. Everywhere.
They're not stupid. They're starting to recognize how bad this is.
Kids are going to die.
And, well? Team Phantom has to do something. The sidekicks of other heroes are doing the best they can, probably, but it's just not enough to save everyone.
"We can't let thousands of parents come home to find their kid dead or missing." Sam announced, only fifteen minutes after Mr. Lancer originally popped out of existence. The four teens are in Fenton Works, trying to figure out a plan of action.
Jazz looks horrified at the thought of it.
Tucker just looks sick. Either with stress or worry, no one can really tell.
"I might be able to fly, but I can't be everywhere at once." Danny muttered, hands knotted in his hair as he's bent over in thought.
Jazz snapped her fingers. "Ghosts! Could ghosts work? We could recruit uh... Wulf. Pandora. The likes."
Her brother looked pensive, but sat up at the thought.
"Wait. It— It could work. The time and age in the Zone is always weird. They could be excluded from the funky magic stuff."
Sam looked like she was about to start ripping out her black hair. "But what if it doesn't work? What then?"
"Sam, we're going to have to try. There's... there's nothing else we can do now." Jazz expressed.
Team Phantom had long dismissed being saved by adults, much less heroes. But it was a different thing to have to be ones for more than Amity.
But... They had to try. Kids didn't deserve to die just because the world they lived in was full of magic and problems.
Danny closed his eyes and let out a breath.
He wasn't some natural born leader. Not some amazing powered person or great ghost.
But he had a duty. Not just for humans and for ghosts, but to people in general.
It was better to do something right than nothing wrong right now.
"Sam, start making a list of the ghosts we know could help. We'll direct them once I can inform them of the situation and get them out of the Zone."
"Tucker, I need you to write out a message about what kids can do and translate it into all the languages you can find."
"Jazz, can you contact Red Huntress? Get her flying around and doing all she can to help or direct younger kids in other towns. She seems to like you."
He grabbed one of the Fenton headset-comm things and went inside of the Zone.
He only hoped it wasn't too late for too many kids.
-
"I've always wanted to wear this for more than Amity. But oh my fuck am I scared right now, Sam." Tucker gulped, pulling on his hoodie and the black gaiter and tech-y looking goggles.
Tucker is ignoring how insane he's being, hacking into Justice League tech. Even after Robin, Kid Flash and some other Bats had given a message!
But it was encouraging... just. Not enough, you know? This wasn't some complex that they're somehow better, but—
"Tucker. Turn on the damn camera."
Sam was scary when she was stressed. The goth was poised next to him, in plant-themed outfit.
With his heart jack rabbiting in his ribs and keeping comms open for Danny, he hit the broadcast button.
"Minors everywhere— please, listen again. We know there has already been a broadcast, but you need to understand how to help your fellow kids."
A shaky exhale he hoped the mic didn't catch.
"You need to double check cooking machines, sinks, and showers are off, as well as dangerous machinery. If you're younger than fifteen, stay at home if you're safe. If you're older, please go search for younger ones and bring them to a school."
"Older teenagers, you're in charge. Get formula for the babies you might find. Make sure to grab medication and keep phones on you." Sam chimed in, voice modulated but trying to sound reassuring.
"Younger heroes will help you if they can. There also might be glowing green people or animals— please, don't be alarmed. They're also trying to help."
"And all of you," She finished for Tucker, "be brave. Be kind. And most of all, be alert. Cherry Bomb and King Tech out."
ok. I'm going to be a little bit insane for a minute so bear with me
But sometimes I think I forget how much depth Steve's character has and it drives me a little crazy because we only ever get the smallest glimpses of it throughout the show. This is going to be half a Steve appreciation post half Joe Keery appreciation post because that guy can act.
here are things I've noticed on rewatches of the show:
Season 1, Episode 3: He shares his food with his friends at lunch
Season 1, Episode 9: He (presumably) drives Nancy and Jonathan to the hospital because we see him there, right next to Ted Wheeler and Hopper. Super odd assortment of people.
Season 2, Episode 3: After he and Nancy have their fight at the party, he's upset or even crying when he walks away.
Season 2, Episode 1: He's pretty stressed about his college essay because he (apparently) doesn't love the idea of working for his dad (and there's the self-esteem aspect ofc), but he's willing to forfeit college entirely to be around for Nancy
Season 2, Episode 6: This is an insane thing to think about lol but from the moment that Dustin accosts him at the Wheelers', neither of their outfits change, which means that from episode six on he doesn't stop hanging out with Dustin. This is especially insane because Dustin recruits him in the afternoon, then a couple hours pass before they get to Dart in the cellar, and then the next time we see them is in the morning in the exact same outfits. A full day passed. Nothing was even happening at the point, one or both of them could have easily gone home. Did they literally just hang out all night for fun? What could they have even done
Season 2, Episode 8: It's hard to make out exactly what's happening, but when he sees that Nancy and Jonathan are together and realizes that his and Nancy's relationship is over, we can see him crying again.
Same Episode: He's practicing swinging the bat in the living room- probably because they are all terrified about the monsters out there
Same Episode: Immediately jumps up next to Hopper on the front lines when they hear the demogorgon outside
Season 2, Episode 9: Right after he breaks up with Nancy for real. Small moment, but just another kudos to Joe
Same Episode: Tangent, but tell me which one of the kids cleaned all that blood off him and put little bandaids on his face? My money is on Dustin because look at him holding that icepack up, what a bro
Same Episode: Doesn't even bother with the rope, just starts hoisting the kids out of the tunnels as fast as possible. Bonus: shields Dustin with his entire body when the demodogs are running past
Season 3, Episode 8: Big timeskip here, but this is a personal fave (see, my profile picture lol). This is right after they escape from the Russians. A.K.A just a short while after the torture scene. Pretty obvious self soothe here.
Same Episode: He's just pacing the entire time they're on the mountain. Don't know whether this is stress or what, but it's definitely not excess energy considering he hadn’t slept for approx 62ish hours at this point (I did the math using this timeline) Look at him go.
Same Episode: He comes to check up on Nancy and Jonathan while they're all getting checked out by the paramedics
OK ending this bit here because it won't let me add any more images, look for part two.
