Chapter Text
Madeline Avila spent the beginning of her third life in a haze of apathy. The youngest of three kids from the British suburbs with an overworked father and an absentee mother who didn't care what they got up to.
Her oldest sibling was Andrew. He was mature for his age, quiet except when he had the opportunity to make a dad joke. He liked reading and football (real football, not American knock-off-rugby). Andy was the quintessential big brother in a lot of ways: protective, watchful, kind of overbearing. He wasn't confrontational or quick tempered, so when he got in fights at school, you could rest assured he'd thought it through and decided the consequences were worth it.
Allie, full name Allison, was barely ten months younger than Andy and might as well have been his twin. She was the kind of audacious you read about in books and saw on tv more than in real life. She got moved up a year in school, partly because the headaches she caused trying to sneak into Andy's class. She shared his love for awful jokes and kicking a ball around a field.
Shikako—or rather, Madeline—was born three years after Allison. She didn't look one bit like her dad or siblings. Andy, Allie, and Toni all had deep, brassy brown complexions, coils of natural hair, strikingly angular eyes, and full lips. (Toni's father had been from Nigeria, his mother from Spain. He worked in accounting.)
Maddy took after Luisa more, who had a mane of chestnut brown corkscrew curls and skin almost the same color, with hooded eyes and dramatic eyebrows. She inherited Luisa's coloring, her curly hair, wide button nose and thick eyebrows. (Luisa was from Cuba. She'd been a model when she was younger.)
Maddy did not take after Luisa enough to obscure the features she could only have gotten from her biological father. Constellations of freckles coated her face and arms, draped over the tops of her shoulders and down her collar bones, with an uneven dusting everywhere else. Maddy was fond of a cluster on the back of her hand that looked like the head of a doe if she played connect-the-dots.
To accompany the freckles were her eyes, round and bug-like and green; a sort of washed-out hazel green, touched with yellow and amber, but green nonetheless. Her lips were narrower than Luisa's with a more pronounced Cupid's bow. Her chin was wider and dimpled; her ears sat oddly on her skull, protruding at the top like a pair of discount elf ear prosthetics.
It was painfully obvious that Maddy was "the milkman's baby", but she was lucky. Toni treated her just like his own.
An accomplishment on his part, considering Maddy felt like a shadow of a person, all her ambition and drive and empathy smothered under the blanket knowledge that there was no point getting attached. No point learning to love a new family just to lose them and start back at the beginning like it never mattered. Like the blood and pain and tears were for nothing. All the violence she caused and the friends she mourned, all the enemies she survived and the people she saved.
Shikako hadn't expected to reincarnate again. She'd assumed- but that was stupid.
She knew she couldn't avoid emotional attachment indefinitely, but for the moment? In a home where nobody was in danger or a threat, where nobody was especially joyful but nobody was miserable either? There was nothing that required her input. She could just...rest. Recover. Ruminate. Spend her free time meticulously putting Shikako's life onto paper, written in a dialect of Japanese that didn't exist here, in codes that had never been invented. Maddy did her chores and school work and made herself interact with each family member a minimum of once a day because it wasn't their fault they had a depressed reincarnated ninja for a daughter/half-sister.
Outside of that, she tried to focus on compiling all the knowledge she could get her hands on. Media, pop-culture, fiction, geography, science, history, music, even politics - anything and everything that she had forgotten or never learned. Shikako wasn't positive this world was one from fiction in her first life (was fiction from both her past lives free game? Could she end up reborn in Icha Icha? Shikako would kill everyone and then herself-) but if she was born in a story once it could happen again.
She spent hours in the public library after school, researching. In between zoning out in a depressive haze and frantically devouring information, she sketched out plans. Rough ideas for surviving the Hunger Games, a zombie apocalypse, ground zero for an alien invasion, global flooding, the Matrix. It was funny; in her first life, they would be considered shitty fanfiction. Now, it was preparation.
Life was comfortable in a listless way, a few minor blips aside. Toni worried about her depression and wanted to take her to therapy. Luisa disagreed. From what she overheard, her mum seemed more than half convinced she was a changeling or the offspring of a demon, which did not fill Maddy with warm fuzzies about who her bio-dad might be or the nature of his relationship with Luisa. A few fantasies of stabbing the man somewhere delicate with a kunai aside, Maddy tried not to think about it.
She tried not to think about a lot of things, like how in her second year she accidentally cultivated a schoolyard reputation as a stone-cold psychopath when a substitute teacher with an unfortunate resemblance to an aged-up Uchiha Itachi tried to pat her on the shoulder. Thankfully, the faculty was convinced it was an accident and the substitute himself couldn't recall the event due to severe head trauma. Her classmates were less easily fooled, siblings included.
The "twins" started to avoid her at school and heckle her at home, mostly Allie. She blamed any messes or mistakes on Shikako, which was more annoying than hurtful. What hurt was the way Andy moved in front of his twin when Maddy showed annoyance, or stayed between Maddy and Luisa when the family went out, or watched tensely whenever Toni interacted with Maddy. He was a smart kid. It wasn't surprising he realized there really was something wrong with her.
Shikako allowed the distance to widen. She didn't want attachments. She was hoping for a Star Wars run eventually and attachments were against the Jedi Code, so. Best to get some practice!
...It would hurt so much less to be in a galaxy far, far away from the constant reminders of what she lost not only once but twice. At least Star Wars was interesting. British suburbia had nothing to offer Shikako but boredom and heartache.
Things finally came to a head on a Thursday night in November of her ninth year of being Madeline Avila. Toni was out of town and Luisa and the twins were asleep. Maddy, an insomniac, was running katas in the front room when someone jimmied the lock on the window.
Shinobi instinct that never really died saw Maddy stepping into the shadow of the bookshelf and crouching down. The silhouette of a man boosted himself through the window, dressed in all black with a stereotypical ski mask and gloves. Shikako judged. His stealth was horrendous. Nothing in nature or suburbia was true black. Navy blues, browns and dark grays blended in much better.
The man swiveled around, looking over the living room. Shikako observed lazily, unmoving. If he was here to steal the new TV or Luisa's gold Cuban necklaces, she didn't care enough to stop him.
Then he pulled a gun from the side pocket of his cargo pants.
Hell no.
Shikako would have waited to see what the intruder would do next, sniffed out what he was after. A home robber wouldn't carry a gun, not in England. He was here to kill. But who?
Maddy wasn't strong enough to do it Shikako's way. She waited only long enough for the enemy to step past her, then darted out of the shadows behind him. The gun was held loosely by his side–sloppy and unprofessional. She liberated that first, then used the knife (stolen from a sketchy man in the public library) to treat his femoral artery to a quick stab. The enemy went down with a shout of agony, not fast enough to get a hit in even though she'd deliberately left an opening.
Shikako frowned briefly; that was inconvenient. Even so, she dropped the gun with a noisy clatter and started to scream, high pitched and terrified. The man was screaming too, flailing, trying to put pressure on his wound. Shikako snatched up his hand and slammed her face against it hard enough that her vision spun. She allowed herself to stagger and fall back, angling it so she hit an end table on the way down. The flower vase toppled off and smashed against the floor, cutting her arms and back. She was still holding the knife.
That was when Luisa came charging down the stairs, followed by the twins. She shrieked and called 999 and, instead of rushing to Maddy's aid, turned and shoved Andy and Allie up the stairs with her. Shikako heard the bang of the door slamming and more banging as Luisa barricaded the door. She blinked slowly.
Okay, then.
She looked back at the intruder. He was already unconscious and would be dead in minutes. Maddy decided to continue the act, scrambling away from him and hyperventilating. She drew on the Academy's lessons about crying on command (a very useful skill, especially as small, cute-looking genin) to work up some alligator tears to go with her fake sobs.
"Daddy," she wailed. Then, with a stab of vindictiveness, "Mummy! Mummy, come back! Mummy please! Help me, daddy, mummy!"
Luisa did not come back and help her. With the danger gone, Shikako faded into her usual depressed apathy. What did she care, really? She heard a commotion upstairs, Andy's raised voice and Allie crying. Luisa shouted something back. Dully, Maddy scooted backwards until her back was against the foot of the couch, glass digging into her skin. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. The pain was minor. She held the knife loosely and watched the dead man's blood seep across the hardwood and into the living room carpet.
She hoped she hadn't gotten any of that in her wounds. Blood-transmitted diseases could be nasty.
The police arrived a few minutes later. It was a bit of a blur. They took her to the hospital, treated her wounds, took pictures of them, asked her questions. Maddy answered them, she thought. It was hard to tell. Language was slipping away from her. So was time.
Shock could do that. And a concussion. And not caring one way or another.
She was released into an emergency foster home. Luisa lost custody, something about leaving her recently attacked nine-year-old with the body she killed in self defense. Andy and Allie went somewhere else. Toni wasn't in the country and the officials were having trouble contacting him. Maddy hoped he was alright.
She considered staying in the foster home. Considered it long and hard and for an entire thirteen seconds. Then she pulled on her shoes, fetched the go-bag some officer had kindly fetched from her bedroom, and kicked out the window.
A drastic haircut, three busses, two trains and several days of meandering later, Maddy set up camp in the storage basement of a security-lax library in London proper. It was easy to slip in with a group of kids and stuff herself away in the dictionary and encyclopedia section on the second floor, where hardly anybody went. Even then it was easy to avoid being seen.
Maddy could spend hours there in the silence, stretching and running katas up and down the aisles when she got sick of reading. When closing time came, she tip-toed down to her basement nest while the library staff closed up. They never checked the building for stragglers.
Maddy woke with the birds outside the grimy basement window in the dark pre-dawn gloom. She slipped out the emergency exit, alarm long since disabled, and walked the chilly streets until the morning rush began. She immersed herself in the flow of tired bodies, lifting wallets and the occasional smartphone from commuters. She'd find an empty flat to break into and use the facilities, then tuck herself away in a tree or on a roof with as many snacks as wouldn't be missed. If the phone she stole wasn't secure, she'd indulge herself by binging movies and shows to continue her research. Maddy always discarded the phones before lunch hour—and her next con—began.
Like everything else sneaky and underhanded, the lunch con was easy. Maddy would bounce in with a crowd, bright eyed and oh-so proud of herself, and buy something "for me and mummy to eat before she has to go back to work!" Then it was off to some other hidden perch on a rooftop or rickety staircase to eat.
She didn't use the precocious child act often. There were missing child alerts and whatnot, though the only picture they had was of her was with long, braided hair, sallow skin, and a dead-eyed expression. Not a halo of short curls, a healthy flush and beaming smile that completely transformed her face.
After that Maddy would explore London for a few hours, carving out bolt holes and amusing herself tracking the movements of the local gangs. Sometimes she'd go to a park and practice nature stealth—as much as she could, anyway. Tree running was a bitch and a half, never mind doing it quietly, but Shikako mastered the Cat's Paw by age six without chakra, so Maddy wasn't about to let that stop her.
The winding route she took back to her library was dedicated to perfecting urban stealth. If a single person so much as glanced at her, Maddy considered the exercise a failure. She was getting good at camouflage, even better than Shikako had been. Blending in, fading into the background noise of life, was how she survived.
It wasn't a bad lot, all in all. Maddy did find herself missing the twins' lively presence, Toni and the quiet camaraderie they shared. Not enough to go back though. She could haunt this library for as long as she wanted and nobody would notice.
Well, somebody noticed.
. . .
"Oh! I beg your pardon," a quiet voice said, making Maddy tense like she'd been hit by a cattle prod. Shikako looked up sharply from her book to see a middle aged man in dress slacks and a vest over his button up. Dark eyes peered at her over a hooked nose from a light, olive-tinted canvas. His thick, wavy black hair was combed back neatly and barely touched with silver at the temples. The line of the man's shoulders said military but the rest of his stance did not, and the callouses on his hands had gone soft. He looked like the strict professor or someone's scholarly uncle, nice enough but a little stiff to be a dad.
He also looked familiar enough that she must have seen him around before, but nothing about his appearance told her how the hell he snuck up on Shikako.
"I didn't mean to disturb your studies, young miss," the man said solemnly.
"That's alright," Maddy whispered. She was both lonely and suspicious so she followed it up with: "I didn't think anybody ever came to this section. What book are you getting?"
"An atlas of Eastern Asia," he told her.
"Oh. Why don't you use Google Maps? I can show you how," she offered, innocent as the kid she wasn't.
His eyes crinkled a little. "A very thoughtful offer, lass. But I prefer a hard copy to refer back to, myself."
"Oh. Okay." Maddy went back to reading The Secret Garden and kept one eye on the man as he took an atlas off the shelf across from her and sat at the table on the far side of the room. Hours passed silently as Maddy switched to Artemis Fowl and Atlas Man scribbled occasionally in a notebook or typed at his laptop.
The next several encounters went much the same way. Atlas Man, who she began to think of simply as Atlas, came to the library every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. The same days he visited the tea shop across the street. Maddy watched him carefully, wary of anyone who frequented the area she squatted in, but Atlas didn't ring any alarm bells. When she changed routines, he didn't seek her out or comment on it.
Maddy liked him. The part of her that would always be Shikako could tell he had combat experience, likely a background in espionage, but didn't consider him an active threat. The retired vibes were strong with this one.
"What are you looking at a bunch of maps for anyway?" she asked one day.
"My son left home some months ago," Atlas said. "He's traveling abroad and only occasionally sends postcards. I am attempting to map his route so that by knowing where he has been, I might discover where he intends to go next."
Hm.
"Why won't he just tell you?" Maddy said.
Atlas sniffed. "He has always been a private boy. I fear he will cease communication altogether should I attempt to inquire on his whereabouts."
"Oh. Why don't you meet up with him?"
"He does not wish to see me," Atlas said quietly. His shoulders drooped slightly with exhaustion and regret.
"Oh," Maddy repeated, awkward. "Um. I'm sorry."
Atlas clicked his tongue and corrected his posture, mercilessly smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in his clothing. He seemed embarrassed by his minute display of emotion. "Don't be, lass, it's hardly your fault."
"I know. It's just sad," she insisted. "Missing your family."
He paused and glanced over, finally meeting her eyes.
"Yes," he admitted. "It is."
Maddy started sitting at the table with him, curled up with her book. She would watch him work, fascinated by the process of digitally tracking someone across the world using nothing but the postcards, knowledge of his son's character, and a set of criteria that made Shikako perk up in the back of her mind.
"Is your son trying to piss off all organized crime on the continent?" she couldn't help but ask. Atlas looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"None of that language here, lass," he tutted. "Though yes, I do believe he is. The foolish lad already punched his way through the Americas."
"What is his goal," Shikako thought out loud, staring at Atlas' laptop screen, open to a website that was probably all kinds of illegal.
"He has not informed me of what he intends to accomplish," Atlas said. "I daresay he is fighting for the sake of it."
"At least his methods are effective," Maddy offered weakly, mind churning, gnawing on the new information. The situation was familiar, somehow. But from where?
"Hrm," Atlas grunted. "That's one way to look at it."
Spring crept towards summer and Maddy waited for it's arrival with baited breath. The library closed earlier in the summers but she would have better access to the shops and free run of the park. No more hiding during school hours to avoid nosy do-gooders, no more perpetual cough from sleeping in the musty chill of the basement. No more sheltering from the rain—Maddy hated getting wet, though Shikako hadn't minded—when she'd rather be outside.
"Excited to be out in the open, are we?" Atlas asked her one day. Maddy froze. They both knew that he knew she didn't go to school. It was obvious. But Maddy had gotten used to his meaningful silence on the subject, when Atlas wasn't shy about expressing his opinions on everything else. She thought he wouldn't talk about it.
"You won't tell anyone," Maddy asked, though it came out more like a command.
"I haven't this far," he said, raising his signature eyebrow.
Maddy clicked her tongue, a habit she picked up from him. "If you do, I'll tell the police that you're hacking into secret government programs. You can't fault me for making sure. I'm not going back."
"Indeed you are not," Atlas agreed. She saw something sharp yet fond in him, behind the politely bland facade. "Your attempt at blackmail is therefore unnecessary and heavy handed to boot. I hope that instead, you will simply accept my offer of assistance, should it ever be desired."
He slid a rectangle of cardstock across the table. An elaborate cursive letter A was embossed in the middle, a phone number printed neatly below.
"Fancy," Maddy said, picking it up. It wasn't laminated but the cardstock glinted when the light hit it at an angle. It smelled like cashmere and an earthy spice she couldn't place.
"A gift from a friend. Call on me anytime, lass. I'll answer." He gathered his things and made to stand.
"Maddy," she blurted. Felt the blood rush to her cheeks when Atlas blinked at her in surprise. A blink from him was a dropped jaw from anyone else. "My name is Maddy."
His eyes warmed and impassive countenance softened into a smile that transformed him from a stern, proper authority figure to someone safe, gentle and approachable.
The metamorphosis stalled her brain enough that she didn't react when he said:
"Alfred Pennyworth."
And walked away.
. . .
It was funny, Shikako thought, that even when she thought she had nothing to do with the Plot, it found her anyway.
Alfred Pennyworth.
Alfred Pennyworth.
BATMAN.
Atlas was Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred Pennyworth was Agent A, the bat-butler extraordinaire. The son gallivanting around the world fighting people was Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne who was Batman.
Except Bruce Wayne wasn't Batman, not yet. Not until he stopped traveling and came back to Gotham—Shikako frantically rifled through her brain. Why had he returned? Was it something with Talia al Ghul? He (almost?) married her, didn't he? But then Ra's al Ghul wanted him to kill someone and he wouldn't...or was that just in the movies?
She shook herself. That wasn't the important part. Yet. For now the important thing was figuring out how to convince Alfred to bring her back to Gotham with him when the time came. Or if that failed, make a plan to get to Gotham on her own.
Gotham.
Shikako found herself grinning uncontrollably. Gotham City. Home of the coolest vigilantes to ever exist, the wackiest villains, and enough danger and excitement to finally shake Maddy out of her lifelong daze.
She was going to meet Batman and Robin. Now that was something to fight for.
. . .
The relationship between her and Alfred blossomed after that conversion. Maddy waited for him to arrive at the library, books already opened to the right page. She sat right next to him, blatantly peeking over his shoulder as he hacked highly confidential databases of criminals and governments alike. He began narrating what he did, and how to do it, and then had her do the hacking while he gave instructions. They compiled lists of crime hotspots, gangs, cults, corrupt organizations, cross referenced that with a list of qualifiers Alfred provided, and caught up to Bruce's movements until, finally, they could track him in real time.
The first time they pulled up live footage of a tall, broad man in a hoodie and medical mask beating the absolute snot out of an underground fighting ring, Alfred almost cried. He set his elbow on the table and covered his eyes with one hand. He didn't shudder or sniffle, just held still for several long seconds. Maddy leaned into his side. When he picked his head up, his eyes were bone dry and burning with a triumphant sort of relief.
"Thank you, Maddy," he said. "I owe you a great debt."
Maddy swallowed her automatic protest.
"I'm glad I could help," she said instead. "It- it was really fun, learning from you."
"You are a delight to teach, lass," Alfred told her. "It is my pleasure. Allow me to take you to breakfast tomorrow?"
"Sure," Shikako said after a pause. "I pick where." She trusted Alfred, but old habits never really died.
So, she went to breakfast with him the next day. And the next, and the one after that. And then Alfred was regularly waiting for her on a park bench across from the library when she woke up. They would walk around until the shops started opening and he would buy Maddy whatever she wanted. In the beginning they sat at the outside tables or in the cafe, but she started showing Alfred her little hideaways. He was agile and strong, perfectly capable of keeping up with her. Shikako loved the feeling of running rooftops with someone else. It made her feel both free and secure. Something about it made Alfred's demeanor loosen as well.
From the rooftops, Alfred confirmed her theory that he was ex-military and told her a bit of his younger years. He was born to Jewish parents in Wales and joined the Queen's Armed Forces (he didn't mention which branch, but Shikako knew an Intelligence agent when one remotely tracked a man across the globe in front of her) right out of secondary school, which is where he adopted his Perfectly Generic British Accent. After that he moved to the US and joined the theater but failed to make a career out of it. He hopped jobs for a while and saved the life of a rich young idiot named Thomas Wayne from a mugging gone wrong. He went on to make an obscene salary ensuring said idiot remembered his car keys and got to appointments on time.
"Thomas called me a valet first, and later a butler when he inherited his parents' estate," he told her as they watched ant-sized people stream below. "Martha called me his babysitter and she had the right of it."
What he never talked about was Bruce, or how he had gone from butler to legal guardian to estranged father. Shikako recalled a comic panel detailing another robbery gone wrong, a crying boy, a string of bloody pearls. She didn't push.
They usually went back to the library after a light lunch, caught up with Bruce, and theorized where he would go next. At closing time Maddy would make her excuses, Alfred would magically produce a bag of non-perishables, and they'd go their separate ways. Weeks passed like this, a month, then two, then three. When the school year approached once again, Alfred broached the subject of a more permanent arrangement.
"My flat has two rooms, lass. I don't pretend to know your situation and you don't have to tell me. But no matter how intelligent and gifted one is, a formal education is rarely a waste of time. Even if only for the official records."
Maddy squinted at him as a mischief worthy of Kakashi-sensei reared its head. "Well Alfred, those are some factually correct if distinctly separate points you bring up. Was there anything you wanted to ask me?"
Alfred stopped in his tracks, blinked down at her in affront...and began to laugh. He guided them off the walkway to sit on a park bench.
"Message received, my dear," he chuckled. "I apologize. I do have a tendency to, shall we say, skirt around topics that are fraught with emotion or of great import to me. I will do my best to improve. Maddy, I have...grown quite fond of you these last few months. You act as a light to me, a light I thought I lost forever when Bruce went abroad. I..."
Alfred cleared his throat and stared over her head for several seconds. His hands, folded primly in his lap, turned white at the knuckles.
"I care for you a great deal, Maddy. I would like to care for you properly. Lass, will you allow me to be your guardi- oof!"
Maddy launched herself forward and caught Alfred around the middle.
"Yes!" she whispered.
Alfred's arms embraced her in return.
They would, however, be negotiating the school thing.
. . .
One year. That's how long Alfred and Maddy were able to track Bruce before he dropped off the grid completely. They spent six months frantically digging for information, which included actually flying to South Asia to look for answers in person. Well, Alfred went in person. Maddy was ten, so she stayed in the hotel room with an earpiece and hacked security cameras.
The trip was a bust, but that was a good thing. They'd been looking for a body, after all.
Time passed and they continued to search, but it slowed from the desperate rush. To Alfred's knowledge, Bruce was in all likelihood dead or imprisoned somewhere remote. But if there was no body, there was still hope. Alfred refused to believe his son was gone and Shikako refused to believe she had messed up the timeline enough to kill off Batman before he even became a vigilante.
It was Batman. He was training with the League of Shadows, kicking ass and falling in love with a beautiful ninja assassin lady whose dad would become his archenemies. He would be fine. Or, y'know, as fine as "Vengeance and The Night" could be.
She was proven correct four years, three months, and six days after she and Alfred left Bhutan empty handed, when Bruce Thomas Wayne called Alfred's cellphone and asked for a ride.
. . .
Turns out the saying was right. You should never meet your heroes. Even if you already knew, intellectually, that your hero was a traumatized and deeply maladjusted furry who abandoned his concerned butler/dad (dadler?) without warning to go on a fight club world tour and only came back because he specifically wanted to beat up the criminals in his home town. Not because he missed his dadler or anything.
If only Batman wasn't so cool. If only this was Bruce a few years later, after he started crime fighting for the sake of the people and adopted himself a Robin. Batman was no fun without a Robin. In fact, this Batman was a-
"-rude, selfish berk!" Shikako expounded. "He has no right to speak to you like that! Who the hell does he think he is? As if you didn't spend years looking for him, literally hunting down every last bloody scrap of evidence on the off chance it could lead to him!"
Alfred listened stoically as always, bustling around the massive kitchen, fetching this spice and stirring that pot. Maddy focused her anger on the vegetables, ruthlessly chopping every carrot into precisely one quarter inch rounds. The skinny end bits that didn't measure up she tossed into her mouth, munching angrily as she spoke.
"I can't believe he could even think something like that, let alone say it to your face, Al! Of course you care! You flipped our whole lives upside down to come get him and bring him home and help him retake Wayne Enterprises and now you're going to clean up the whole bloody mansion because Bruce is too paranoid to hire actual staff, AND you're cooking homemade meals for him every day too?!"
"Of course not Maddy, don't be ridiculous," Alfred said calmly. "We are going to clean the 'whole bloody mansion', master Bruce very much included, and the Sheppard's pie we're making should provide supper for all week, not merely a day. For breakfast and lunch the boy shall fend for himself."
Fine, point made.
"I don't get why you call him that," she grumbled instead. "He's, like, twenty two."
"The young master shall always be the young master to me," Alfred said. "Though perhaps I will consider referring to him in a manner befitting an adult when he begins to act like one."
Maddy cracked a smile as she started on the potatoes. She knew Alfred wasn't as serenely unaffected as he acted. He cried actual tears when Bruce called and had been smiling for days - it was creepy. But despite his joy, Maddy could tell Bruce's words hurt him badly.
I'm surprised to hear you profess your concern, Alfred. It certainly didn't take you long to return to your home country and start a new family after I left. If it was an unwanted, lingering sense of duty that brought you back here, then by all means, I release you from your service. You're free of me now.
It made her blood boil. And she couldn't do much about it, either. Yelling at Bruce would upset Alfred and talking it out wasn't an option when he wouldn't even look at Maddy! Not in the hall when she 'accidentally' bumped into him, not when she abandoned subtlety and got right up in his face. Bruce was a living, breathing stone wall.
I should just get him to spar with me, Maddy thought. Asshole or not, that would be epic.
Except she wasn't supposed to know Bruce was a trained fighter. Alfred hadn't told him they'd been stalking him, which she thought was dumb, but hey. Alfred could make his own choices. Honestly Shikako wasn't sure she even wanted to get closer to Bruce, not after the shit he'd done to Alfred. In another life, she had ruined people for lesser transgressions.
But.
I need to stop approaching this like Bruce is an outside element, Shikako admitted to herself. He isn't some Department Head who called Shika stupid. This is like...when Naruto pissed off Sasuke for real, or the time Kakashi-sensei had delusions of us just letting him die. Bruce lashed out at Alfred because he cares and that scares him.
Actually, if she thought about it, Bruce had the most difficult traits of her team put together. Sasuke's fear of abandonment and corresponding attachment issues, Kakashi's self-hatred and socioemotional ineptitude, Naruto's obstinance and thirst to prove himself, Shikako's pride and unwillingness to admit vulnerability.
"Dammit," Maddy said to herself. "This is going to be a bloody pain in the arse."
"Hush, Madeline," Alfred scolded. "Save your profanity for situations that warrant such language or you won't be taken seriously. You sound like a hoodlum."
"I am a hoodlum," she retorted. "Bona fide runaway street trash here, Al."
Alfred scoffed delicately and peered down his nose at her. "Nonsense. You are Madeline Vanessa Pennyworth and you have never been trash. Now come here and roll this dough for me. Let us see if you can achieve the same thickness throughout this time."
. . .
Eleven weeks and two days.
That was how long Alfred let Bruce believe he'd pulled the wool over his eyes.
Every night Bruce scooted out the second story window like he thought he was slick, and every night Alfred took his laptop to the kitchen and hacked into what few digital security cameras Gotham had, trying to find his son in a heartbreaking (and frankly infuriating) mimicry of earlier years. Every night Maddy made hot chocolate with cayenne pepper the way Toni had and sat with her not-quite-father until they heard her definitely-not-brother limp back through the window.
Every morning Alfred pretended not to notice bruises hidden under concealer and Bruce pretended not to notice the bags under Alfred's eyes or the sound of Maddy's molars grinding together. Every morning she quietly boiled with exasperation and resisted the urge to bash the two idiots' heads together. It would take nothing less to get them moving.
Happily, Gotham was chock full of people vying to bash the new vigilante's skull in and eventually one succeeded. It worked like a charm. Bruce stumbled home in full gear with a big fat concussion and a dramatic one liner, all like:
"Alfred. I'm sorry,"
before passing out in the middle of the kitchen. Alfred cried out in pure, parental horror and Shikako abandoned the knife she was using to dart around the island. She dropped to her knees and slid across the tile to catch Bruce's head in her lap just before he cracked it the rest of the way open.
"Breathing and heartbeat stable," she reported before Alfred could assume the worst. "He's okay, Al. Just a concussion I think."
Alfred's chalk-white complexion skipped past the usual olive and went straight to maroon.
"That stupid boy," he hissed, striding over with swift, jerky movements that did nothing to hide his shaking hands. He knelt to inspect Bruce himself. "Of all the damn fool- I have had enough. Madeline, dear, assist me in removing this ridiculous costume at once. Thank you."
Together they stripped Bruce (to his underclothes and no further, thankfully) and triaged his wounds as best they could. He woke up several times, which was good, but never with any lucidity, which was not. They managed to heave the guy onto a low couch in the nearest lounge where Alfred sat with him, strangling Bruce's hand and muttering direly in a mixture of Welsh and Yiddish. Maddy cleaned up the blood and sterilized the kitchen; then, for lack of anything better to do, continued dicing bell peppers for the quiche.
She kept cooking even after Bruce woke up, trying not to listen against her own instincts. That turned out to be pointless after they erupted into a shouting match in which neither of them said anything they actually meant and mutually failed to read between the lines.
"Oh for-" Maddy stabbed the knife into the cutting board and stomped out to make it three for three yelling idiots in the house. "Bruce, Alfred isn't judging you, he's worried and disappointed that you didn't trust him with this! Al, Bruce is hurt and stubborn and clearly talking out of his ass. He in no way actually wants you to leave!"
Bruce rounded on her and drew a breath to shout again, teetering on his feet and clearly having processed nothing she said. Alfred's face did the angry duck thing where his lips pursed and eyebrows drew together, his hands snapping together behind his back as he geared up for a lecture.
"And I know it's none of my business and not my place to interfere, but I live here too!" she bellowed. "Maybe it is my fault! You're both miserable because I fucked everything up and I was never supposed to be here and I'm sorry okay?!"
Maddy turned and ran before she could see whatever reaction they had to her tantrum. She sprinted down the halls blindly, plunging out a balcony window and vanishing into the wooded area that passed for a forest.
I'd give anything to have Shika be an overbearing jerk again, she thought furiously. To face all the worst parts of the people she loved. Anything to have them back, good and bad.
Why couldn't Bruce and Alfred just admit they cared?!
Shikako snarled and punched a tree. It hurt. She did it again, then again, then round-house kicked it so hard the branches shook and a smattering of leaves fell. The top of her foot ached but pain was no longer satisfying. Shikako backed away and took a running leap, kicking off the trunk. She hauled herself up, up, up until the canopy could barely support her weight. She swayed with it, matching the rhythm of the wind instead of fighting for control.
Sometimes it felt like all she did was fight for control.
Would Alfred come looking for her? Did Bruce feel any measure of guilt?
...Should they?
Maddy rested her forehead against a branch and just. Let the tears come. They didn't owe her anything. She was an impostor, a fucking leech. At least Shikako was born into the Plot; Maddy went ahead and bulldozed in where she had no right to be. She was ruining everything. She should have learned from Luisa what came of something that wasn't wanted sticking around.
She could run again. Disappear into Gotham- or better yet, leave Gotham and go somewhere she couldn't poison anyone's relationships with the one person they had left in the world. The part of her that was all shinobi demanded she stay, cling to her precious people and fight beside them against what she knew was coming. Joker and other Rogues, alien invasions and Darkseid, city-destroying and world-ending plots. The part of her that was Madeline wanted to run before she was rejected for good.
"Madeline?"
Maddy stiffened in shock. She hadn't expected Bruce to come after her. He should be resting. A wave of pettiness washed over her and she almost didn't reply, almost ignored him like he'd done to her this whole time.
"Oh, so now you'll talk to me?"
Her voice was rougher than she liked, audibly post-crying jag.
"Alfred is. Upset," he said stiltedly. Shikako scowled, finally looking down at him. His posture was as stiff as his tone, blue eyes blank and guarded as he gazed up at the tree. He was a little unsteady on his feet.
"Alfred will get over it," she told him. "He has you back now."
She was surprised by her own bitterness.
"I do nothing but disappoint him," Bruce said lowly. "It would've been better if I never called-"
Okay, no.
"Shut the fuck up," Shikako snapped, swinging down through the branches until they were almost at eye level with each other. "Alfie was literally going crazy the entire time you were out beating up mafia ninjas or whatever. He almost cried when we lost track of you and actually cried when you called him."
Bruce stared. "You- he- he knew? The whole time, he knew?"
Maddy wiped her nose on her sleeve and sniffled. "I met him at a public library while he was hacking MI6 surveillance footage for you and pouring over maps. That's how we got to know each other. Trying to follow your dumb ass across the globe."
Bruce was silent for a long, long time. He kept a hand braced on the tree trunk so his dumb, concussed ass wouldn't keel over.
Maddy sniffled again. Her nose was runny from crying and she didn't have any tissues. Plus it was cold.
Fabric rustled and Bruce handed her a clean handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose.
"You're not getting this back," she warned him.
"Okay."
More quiet.
"Alfred knows I'm the Bat," he stated.
"Uh huh."
"And...he doesn't hate me."
Maddy snorted so hard she had to use the kerchief again. "Don't be an idiot! Alfred could never hate you. He's proud, if anything, just too emotionally constipated to say so. And concerned because you won't let anyone help you."
"...Huh."
Maddy waited, but it seemed that was that. Bruce really was a man of few words.
"We should go back," she sighed. "He's probably pissed as hell and worried sick. What were you thinking, coming after me with a concussion?"
She dropped out of the tree and landed without a sound. They walked back together. Even with his head injury, Bruce was almost as quiet as she was. He stumbled twice and lost his balance completely once, but Maddy caught him every time. Alfred was standing ramrod straight at the edge of the woods, barely visible in the darkness.
"You two," he snapped, "will come inside at once."
His voice trembled slightly. Meekly, they obeyed. Alfred stalked ahead of them, holding the Manor's side door open and glaring as they entered. The glare did nothing to hide his bloodshot eyes and the ruddy tip of his nose, a sure indicator he'd been crying.
"I'm sorry, Al," Maddy said.
"Alfred, I'm sorry," Bruce said at the same time. Alfred's glare held for a moment, then fractured into something helpless and hurting and fragile. His grip was anything but, when he yanked them both into a hug.
"I am sorry too," he said. "My children. My children."
Maddy cringed, ashamed down to her bones. She hugged Alfred back, and one of Bruce's gigantor arms overlapped with hers as he did the same. They didn't hug each other, of course. Their off-arms, squished together when Alfred pounced, remained locked in place. But they didn't try to pull away from one another, either.
Behind Alfred, Bruce caught her gaze.
Truce? he mouthed.
Shikako narrowed her eyes at him. She wasn't the one being such a bloody diva about everything.
Truce, she mouthed back anyway.
And so it was.