Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce stared in horror as his mother’s pearl necklace scattered along the concrete ground. The sound of footsteps fading into the distance echoed his pulse as blood spilled from his father’s form. The gunshot rang in his ears, leaving him shivering as he slumped to his knees, skull buzzing slightly. His breathing felt too loud, like thunder echoing even as his tears were washed away by the rain pouring from the skies. 

Lightning flashed in his eyes, lighting up the alley in front of him, revealing mud covered, slimy heels. He blinked and looked up, staring unseeingly at the woman standing in front of him. She wore a black evening gown, though the hem was ripped and rotting around her knees and covered in suspicious stains that leaked a reddish brown fluid. 

(Just like the red oozing from his mother and father, bodies cooling quickly within arm's reach.)

The pearls on her necklace (so much like the ones scattered on the ground around him) were framed and set into what looked like bottlecaps, the delicate chain missing links and replaced with thicker, common steel chain links. Her opera gloves were stained with green sludge and red brown smears on the fingers. They were covered in cuts, holes, and rips as well, even completely missing the middle fingers on both gloves. 

Her hair was thick and grimy, whatever style it had once been carefully arranged in mussed and ruined. It hung around her face, which he had to actually focus and squint to see. Her face seemed to change every time he blinked, one moment being gaunt with starvation with bloodshot eyes and smeared makeup, and the next being full cheeked with empty eye sockets and sharp scars slicing across her face. 

She smirked, lips twitching as she stared at him, as though he weren’t kneeling in a puddle of his parents' blood with their corpses lying beside him. 

“Who…?” His voice was barely audible over the rain as he spoke. She reached forward, hand grasping his chin and tilting his head side to side. Her thumb smoothed over his cheek, nail delicately scratching his skin as she studied him. Absently, Bruce noted that her visible nails were manicured, but the tips and paint were chipped. 

“I’ll see you again,” she murmured, eyes flicking to the mouth of the alley behind him. Her voice was familiar in an alien way. Raspy echoes seemed to hiss underneath a melodic voice, as though a heavy smoker was speaking at the same time as an opera singer. It took Bruce a moment or two before he finally put together what exactly she’d said. 

“...what?”

A flash of lightning blinded him for a moment, making him blink. He looked back up and froze, staring at the empty alley. Bruce had grown up with women wearing heels. Heels weren’t quiet. That was a fact he’d learned since he could understand what was going on around him. Yet the Lady had disappeared without a single sound. 

And once more he was alone. Alone with the remnants of the dead and the echoes of gunshots in his ears. Shivers ran down his spine as the water seeped down along his spine. The alley was dark in front of him, the gunman long gone. 

“Bruce!”

Like the whisper of a former life, Alfred’s voice called to Bruce from a distance. If Bruce couldn’t hear the undertone of fear and worry in his voice, Bruce could’ve fooled himself into believing that Alfred was simply calling him in from the garden for dinner or a gala. 

“Young Master Bruce!”

Perhaps even lessons if Bruce were being generous, though that often had a much more fondly annoyed undertone to it. 

“Young Master Bruce?!”

The sound of perfectly clean loafers clicked against the sidewalk, approaching the alley. Bruce could hear the soft inhale of horror, even without seeing Alfred. The shoes clicked closer, and Bruce was quickly scooped into the elderly butler’s arms, picking him up out of the puddle of blood. Bruce whined softly, reaching out a hand towards his parents even as Alfred turned him away from them and hurried out of the alleyway. 

Alfred slid Bruce into the backseat of the car, having pulled his father’s favorite car around to pick up the Waynes. The car interior was warm, and only got warmer as Alfred pulled a blanket from the trunk of the car and wrapped it around Bruce’s shoulders. Alfred’s hands on his shoulder felt like the only things holding Bruce together as he stared blankly at the bowtie perfectly tied around Alfred’s neck. 

“Young Master, please stay here. I need to contact the police for-for your parents. Please stay in the car, I will be back as soon as I can.” The door shut, cutting Bruce off from the rest of the dark, cold, unfamiliar world. Everything seemed wrong, like it had shifted four miles to the right and a solid mile up. His head was fuzzy and distant, like his skin was too tight around his body yet his head was screwed on loosely. 

Bruce only came back to the present when flashing red and blue lights flared painfully bright in his vision. He slowly turned his head, eyes stuck to the spot he’d been staring into previously until he forced his eyes to look out the window. 

Five police vehicles were parked on the street, lights flashing and throwing the shadows of the city into sharp contrast. Someone was setting yellow tape around the mouth of the alley Alfred had pulled him from, where his parents’ bodies still rested. He could distantly see Alfred talking to a few of the cops, hands carefully clenched and held behind his back as he spoke with them, occasionally gesturing to the alleyway and theater. 

“They won’t do anything.” 

Bruce didn’t jump, though he felt like he should’ve. He blinked slowly and turned his head to the side. Water dripped from the Lady’s hair as she stared out the window. Her legs were crossed elegantly, heels sharp against her pale skin, but she sprawled in the seat, arms thrown over the back with carefree slothfulness. Her tone was casual, almost cheerful, as though Bruce’s world hadn’t just been completely tipped on its head. Her eyes were sharp and danced with delight as she saw the newly arrived paramedics come out of the alley, carrying two stretchers with white cloth over them. 

(The white didn’t last, not with blood still freely pouring from Martha and Thomas Wayne’s bodies like they were bottles with a hole in them.)

“Who won’t?” Bruce asked, voice dull and dead as he stared at her. Her eyes flicked to him and she reached out, pinching his cheek and smirking at him, head lolling to the side lazily. She released his cheek and moved to flicking his wet hair around between her fingers. 

“The police.” She chuckled, lips bloodless and blue as she looked back at the paramedics as they hurriedly rushed away in the ambulance. Alfred was still talking to the cops, now gesturing to the car where Bruce sat. Absently Bruce thought that surely someone had seen he wasn’t alone in the car, but if they had then no one seemed at all concerned by it. “They never do. Too much corruption for anyone to make real progress at fixing this city.”

Her eyes gained a cruel gleam to them, nail carefully stroking along Bruce’s jaw just enough to scratch the skin but not hurt him. 

“As though the city needs to be fixed in the first place.”

Bruce stared at her silently for a minute before looking back over at Alfred. The butler was approaching the car, quickly opening the driver's seat door and slipping into the car. 

“Apologies for the wait, Young Master. We’re going home. It’s…been a long night,” the older gentleman murmured. Bruce blinked before turning to look at the Lady. He felt like he should’ve been surprised that she was no longer there, and the seats were completely clean and dry save for what mess had built up underneath Bruce himself, as if she’d never been there to begin with. 

The drive home was silent save for the rain on the roof and the ringing still echoing in Bruce’s ears. The buzzing had faded, but his head still didn’t feel properly attached to his body. He obediently followed Alfred into the house as the butler led him inside and got him cleaned up, mostly, and tucked into bed. Bruce slipped into sleep suspiciously easily, like it was just another normal evening. Like it was just another birthday with his parents. 

Happy birthday, Brucie.

With Bruce settled and sleeping in his room, a subtle… magical encouragement to sleep hovering over him and ensuring that he would be deeply unconscious, the Lady wandered through the halls of the Wayne manor. She lit up a cigarette, inhaling and blowing out a breath. Despite that, no smoke exited her lungs as she smirked, tucking the cigarette into her mouth before pulling a syringe out of thin air and easily injecting herself with the fluid contained within it. She dropped it once it was empty, the drugs already flowing through her veins, but the syringe never hit the floor, vanishing the same way it had arrived. 

She meandered down the stairs, casually strolling down the kitchen. She leaned on the doorway, taking a drag of her cigarette before blowing it out, cooing at the elderly man already a whiskey bottle deep, draped over a chair. “There’s my Gentleman~”

“You dare appear here? After what you did tonight?” The elderly gentleman sat up and glared at her furiously, rage burning in his eyes and his tone bitter and slurred. “You vicious, treacherous-”

“Watch yourself, Alfie. Or perhaps I need to remind you of your place? Don’t you remember what happened last time you mouthed off at me?” she purred darkly, eyes flashing like daggers gleaming under streetlights or the shine of a rifle muzzle from afar. Her tone was blunt, brutal. Just like the car that had hit Alfred’s daughter when she’d visited him in Gotham. She’d survived, in as much as a comatose vegetable of a human could survive. Alfred sat back in his chair, face flashing with pain and hurt. He pulled a pocket watch out of the inside of his jacket, opening it up and rubbing a thumb over the picture of a little girl smiling from the inside. 

“Was it not enough that I distanced myself from them? From my wife? From my daughter?” His voice was hoarse and weak, tears budding in his eyes. “And now you have once more taken someone from me.”

“Interestingly enough, this wasn’t me.” Alfred snorted, snapping the pocket watch shut and tucking it back into its pocket, settled right against his heart. 

“You may not have arranged it or deliberately set it up, but you did nothing to stop it even when you knew it would happen. Isn’t that right, my Lady?” She flashed a grin at him, lips curled cruelly as she appeared behind him, draping herself over his shoulders like a lazy housecat. 

“You know how I am…I only interfere when it comes to my favored ones. And although I liked Martha and Thomas…that was more because of how they made you feel rather than liking them in particular.” Alfred released a bitter, sharp laugh. Tears burned his eyes as he glared down at the glass still in his hand. A pale grey hand swirled in it, nail leaving scratches on the bottom of the glass itself. The Lady lifted her finger from the whiskey and pressed it against Alfred’s lips, smearing the alcohol like lipstick on him. 

“And now you come back, laughing as always. Knowing I am alone and defeated. How many more times must we play these parts before you have taken everything I am?” The Lady pursed her lips in disappointment, frowning at the way the man sat before her. There was almost no strength left in him. She’d broken and twisted him too many times. He was too old now to have anything of interest really left inside him. 

A shame, considering how many more years he would be with her. 

Mad laughter bubbled in her throat and her lips twitched with amusement, his sorrow all the more delicious for how hopeless it had become. He knew there was no way out. They’d made a Deal. And one way or another he was hers to claim. Hers to torment, hers to torture and adore. After all, he was Her Gentleman.

“Alfie, make me a spot of tea, would you? I’m ever so parched,” she purred, appearing in the seat opposite him as she took another drag from her cigarette. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the cigarette, but he sighed and stood up, remarkably steady for someone who’d been drinking so heavily not five minutes prior. Yet despite that his hands were steady as he made a pot of tea, easily pouring a delicate cup of China full of the liquid. He smoothly set it in front of her, ignoring her smug grin and victorious eyes. She dispelled the cigarette with a thought and downed the tea like she was taking a shot in a bar. She licked her lips as he glared at her. 

“I know you do that to annoy me, but I will continue to ask, please don’t drink tea like that,” he grumbled. She shot him a teasing smirk. 

“But I love the way you look when you’re annoyed…” Alfred sighed, sitting back down and grabbing the whiskey to take another swig from it. 

“What I wouldn’t give for you to lose interest in me,” he mumbled. She stared at him, lips still curled in a smile as her eyes locked onto him the same way a cat might focus on a mouse. He paused, bottle pressed to his lips, studying her for a moment, made cautious by her silence. Every time he’d made such a comment before or comments along the lines of them parting ways she had quickly devolved into furious screams and shouts, throwing furniture around and hissing curses. 

Yelling and screaming were predictable. Ride out the rage and she’d come out the other end laughing at the audacity of one of her pets daring to think it could escape her. Fury was familiar, for all that it was frightening. 

Silence…

Silence was dangerous.

New.

Unpredictable.

The Lady gestured to her cup, and with a slight, cautious frown, Alfred refilled her drink. She lifted it delicately, sipping from the drink with a small, knowing smile that she knew would raise the hairs on the back of Alfred’s neck. Every instinct he had would be screaming at him the longer she was quiet. She sighed happily as she savored the tea, delicately holding the cup and plate, absently swirling the tea in the glass as she watched him. 

“Actually…I think I’ve found a new favorite,” she said easily. Casually, with the same cadence that a woman might tell a close friend she found a new boyfriend. Alfred stiffened, the look in his eyes warring between suspicion and hope. She lifted the teacup to her lips, fighting to keep her smile from reaching her face and giving her away too soon. 

“Oh?” Alfred asked, watching her warily. He was tense, arms tight against his body as he delicately wiped down the glass he’d been drinking from. She watched him with a smile before humming thoughtfully. 

“I wonder what he should be…perhaps…I’ve been missing a Justice for a while. Ooh! Or Vengeance! Vengeance would certainly be an interesting one to fill.” She hummed thoughtfully as Alfred watched her carefully. “Perhaps he’ll be my Night.”

A giggle echoed through the air, sharply childish in the tense atmosphere as the Lady snickered to herself. 

“My Dark Knight, yes. He will be all of those and more for me.” Alfred narrowed his eyes at her, watching cautiously. 

“And does your…Dark Knight know? That you’ve chosen him?” Alfred asked cautiously. The Lady laughed, too loud, too bright, making Alfred flinch and pull away from her slightly as her eyes fell on him, gleaming like a cat that got the cream. 

“It’s more fun if my pets don’t know of my interest until they’re already mine, isn’t that right, Alfie?” Alfred grimaced at the reminder of his own past, glaring at the whiskey bottle. He’d been young and foolish when he’d first followed the whispers and listened to them during his drunk stupor. He’d only been there to visit, barely stopping for the night in Gotham. And after that…he’d never truly been able to escape for long. 

“Who is it, if you’re willing to tell me? Is it someone I know?” The Lady’s grin sharpened, looking for a moment as though she had shark teeth or hyena fangs rather than standard human teeth. Her eyes flicked upwards, towards the left corner of the room, unerringly targeting the small, traumatized child resting higher in the house. 

“I’d say you know him very well,” she purred, eyes never leaving. She could see him there, resting almost peacefully in his bed. Dark brown hair, almost black, spilled loosely around flawless skin and a near angelic face. Blue eyes were hidden beneath his pale eyelids, but she could feel how his breathing picked up, eyes flicking rapidly beneath his eyelids as Bruce sank beneath a nightmare’s grasp. So much potential for one so young. 

Alfred followed her gaze, frowning as he tried to figure out what she meant. There was nothing in the direction she was looking, nothing but open sea. He wouldn’t know some random fisherman or ship worker…so who was she looking at? When Alfred considered it more closely, his face drained of blood and he staggered, falling to his knees as he realized exactly which room she was gazing at. 

Her eyes snapped to him, glowing an unearthly green with delight as she watched the horror grow on his face. He knew. Not a word needed to be said to reveal the identity of her new favorite and already he had pieced together who she had turned her eye to. 

“...no. No, no, no!” He laid forward, pressing his head to the floor in a pose that had to be distinctly uncomfortable to him as he laid his hands at her feet. He raised his head, eyes welling with tears as he begged her. “My Lady, please. Anyone but him. He-he has only just lost his parents, he’s too young, please. I will do whatever you wish of me, I will make any Deal you desire, but please, I beg you, leave my Young Master alone.”

She studied him there, head pressed to the floor as sobs began to wrack through his body. She’d tried for so long to see him like this. Sobbing and kneeling before her, yet somehow this was…less amusing than she’d first thought. Perhaps he’d grown too old, perhaps she’d pushed him too far. But either way, seeing Alfred bent and broken before her, begging her to leave his young ward alone…it was just making her angry. A sneer curled her lips and she snapped her fingers sharply. 

“Get up.”

Alfred pushed himself to his feet, bones creaking and groaning with age as he forced himself upright. He was disheveled, something she had once longed to see. The silver fox, the intelligence officer, messy and disheveled for Her, was something she had long desired to see. Yet here he was, exactly as she’d wanted him and instead, she was annoyed. 

Because he wasn’t begging for Her. He was begging for Him.

“Tell me, Alfred. How many times a day do you think I hear that exact same plea? How many voices, desperately sobbing for me to grant mercy to their friends, their family, to themselves? Hm?”

Alfred lowered his eyes, vision blurring as new tears rose up and a well of hopeless despair yawned open in his chest like a gaping chasm. “More than I can count.”

“Now answer me, Alfred? Am I a manifestation of mercy? An existence of joy and optimism?”

“...no.”

“Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth. We’ve known each other for many years now. Who am I to you?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Alfred spoke again, voice quiet and defeated. “My Mistress, my Lady and Owner. She who has claim to my life and my undeath. She who Rules.”

The Lady nodded, darkness swirling around her, smog curling in her hair like a crown. Pollution tugged at the hem of her skirt, fog swirling beneath it and spreading icy tendrils throughout the room. She glided forward, straightening until she towered over him like the great skyscrapers scattered through the city, eyes still glowing that unearthly green. 

“Now tell me, Alfred.” 

He flinched at his name, eyes shutting and standing stiffly at attention. Smoke curled around him, sickly and sweet as he breathed in the chemicals poured into her. He choked on them as she came to a halt, staring down at him in all her furious, inhuman glory.

“What. Is. My. Name.”

Alfred’s lips quivered, though whether from fear or sorrow it was hard to tell. His eyes shut and a single tear slipped from the corner, dripping into the fog and disappearing, never truly touching the floor. Hands, cold and dead, warm and living, callused and smooth, caressed his cheeks, lifting his chin as a thumb swept over his lips, nail sharp as it brushed his skin. He stared up at her, eyes dim with sorrow and horrified dawning acceptance. 

“Lady of Darkness and Disease. Queen of Cruelty and Crime. You are…Gotham.”

Gotham smirked, cooing softly at him as he trembled within her grasp. He was like a kitten to her. Yowling and hissing whenever she tried to approach but melting helplessly once caged within her grasp. 

“Bruce Wayne will be mine. My Dark Knight. My Vengeance. My Justice. My Night.” She brushed her thumbs along Alfred’s sharp cheekbones, wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes. She could hear his mind, screaming apologies and begging forgiveness from Martha and Thomas, for unknowingly drawing his Lady’s gaze upon their young son. His heart broke for the pain his son in all but blood would have to endure. After all…

Gotham never released someone once they were Hers.

“He will be loved. He will be hated. He will be feared and cursed. And he will be Mine in all the ways that matter. Accept this, and do my bidding, My Gentleman. Teach him. Train him as much as you can. Then wait for his return. He will leave and seek out other teachers. He will find them and you will wait for his return. You will aid my Knight. You will assist him. My precious little…Prince.”

Alfred sucked in a horrified breath at the last name she assigned Bruce as she threw back her head and laughed, the echoes of a clown not yet formed, not yet tainted with her madness, bursting from her lips as she vanished like smoke. 

Yes. Things would be interesting.

She couldn’t wait to see how they’d turn out. 

Things turned out exactly how the Lady had told him. The police came to the house in the morning, asking several questions about what had occurred the night before. Not just what happened, but also the description of the person who’d killed his parents. Yet despite even telling them that his father had called the man by name, they left and no new news came for several weeks. 

Bruce had to watch his parents’ caskets get lowered into the ground, with the whispers of “not enough evidence” and “case gone cold” echoing in his mind. His hands clench by his sides as the various strangers wrapped in elegant black shawls and veils stare at him, whispering behind their hands with greed bright in their eyes. He left the funeral last, save for Alfred, refusing to speak to anyone at all. Even Alfred refused to say a word, simply watching Bruce with sorrow and guilt clear in his eyes. 

Alfred paused at the door of the Wayne Manor, opening his mouth to speak before pausing and shaking his head, eyes closed and sorrowful before opening the door and letting them both inside the house. Bruce silently retreated to his room, shutting the door behind him and curling up on his bed, tears dripping from his eyes. 

“I told you.”

He glared up at the woman sitting casually in the chair next to his bed, right where his mother would sit whenever Bruce became sick. Her pearls looked suspiciously red and brown stained around her neck. She stared at him with a small smile on her painted lips. 

“So you came to gloat?” Bruce hissed venomously at her. She snickered at him before taking a drag of her cigarette. 

“No, not really. Just to remind you.”

“Remind me what?? That it isn’t fair?!? That my parents are dead and the man who killed them won’t face any consequences for it?? They did everything they could to help this city and now…” He choked on a sob, tears spilling from his eyes as he buried his face in the covers of his bed. The Lady stared at him for a moment before tilting her head curiously. 

“Perhaps they weren’t helping right. Perhaps their aid was more insulting than encouraging? Perhaps if they couldn’t help…no, no. Never mind.” Bruce perked up, squinting at her through teary eyes. 

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse. The Lady waved her hand dismissively. 

“It was a foolish idea, don’t worry about it.” Bruce pushed himself up onto his knees, rubbing aggressively at his eyes. She glanced at him, hand over her mouth as she saw the burning rage and pain in his eyes. Her lip quirked, smirk building behind her glove. 

“What is it?” he demanded, pouting at her. She almost cooed at him, but kept herself contained. 

“Well…if your parents couldn’t help, and the police won’t help…maybe you could help.” Bruce blinked at her, eyes wide and innocent as though he’d never even considered that he could help. 

“...me?” he asked, confused. The Lady nodded. 

“You’re not the only one who lost loved ones. You’re not the only one who got told that the case ‘went cold’ or that the police have ‘no leads’ on who the attacker was or what their motivations were. But if the police won’t do anything to help…perhaps you should do it on your own.” 

Bruce stared at her silently for a minute before looking back down at his lap. He was silent for a minute, gears clearly turning in his head as the Lady watched. His hands clenched and Bruce looked up, resolve blazing in his eyes as he spoke up. 

“What do I have to do?”

A grin spread over the Lady’s face as she appeared on the bed with Bruce, tracing a hand down his cheek. 

“I would love nothing more than to tell you.”

“Alred.” 

The butler paused where he’d been preparing the Young Master’s dinner, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment, hoping beyond hope that Bruce was simply seeking some comfort.

“Yes, Young Master Bruce?” 

Alfred felt his heart sink as he took a look at Bruce. The boy was standing in the doorway, chin tucked and fists clenched. His eyes were locked onto Alfred with a cold surety bright in his gaze. He stared at his pseudo son sorrowfully as Bruce spoke. 

“I need you to train me.”

“In what, Master Bruce?’

“Everything.”

Teach him. Train him as much as you can.

Alfred closed his eyes, silently sending a prayer for forgiveness to Martha and Thomas before nodding. “Very well, sir. I shall do as you ask. But keep in mind, it will take a while.”

Bruce stared at him silently for a moment before speaking. 

“I can wait.”

Bruce disappeared when he was sixteen years old. Eight years, five longer than Alfred had expected the boy to remain, tolerating Alfred delaying his training or insisting he had to perfect his technique before he moved on. Yet soon Alfred was alone yet again and left at the mercy of his Lady’s moods. 

“He’ll be back. I won’t let him die out there.”

“You won’t let him die at all, just like how you refuse to let me die,” Alfred grumbled, setting a cup of tea in front of Gotham. She grinned at him, eyes dark and shadowed as she sipped the tea. 

“True, but I don’t intend to change him too much. Brucie will probably be the most human out of any of my pets. Even you are more akin to me than he will be.”

“Is that even possible? Considering that you’ve given him five titles rather than one?” Gotham smirked at him, setting her cup back on the table. 

“It’s up to me, isn’t it? And I think it’ll be interesting to let him keep his human sanity…mostly.” Alfred sighed slowly in response to her dismissive words. He looked out the window, watching the rain fall for a moment before closing his eyes. 

Please return home safely, Bruce.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne’s return to Gotham was quiet. For all that he was the richest man in the city and a notorious playboy, his return was…surprisingly uneventful. Dozens of people turned their gaze to Wayne Enterprises and the tabloids for information on the young Wayne, yet things were quiet. 

Too quiet. 

No one noticed the Wayne Enterprise board members being discretely removed from their positions and replaced. No one noticed the way Wayne manor slowly went dark with two individuals living within. Bruce Wayne faded from the public mind until his first gala attendance. 

And even then he was only written about because he came in with two models on his arms and ended up knocking Lex Luthor into the chocolate fountain. Bruce Wayne became Brucie Wayne, a comedic figure to follow. A rich fool, who didn’t pretend to be anything else. It was three long, boring months before anything happened in Gotham. 

But when it happened?

Everyone took notice.

“I don’t know about this man…I don’t like the thought of selling drugs to kids,” one of the guards commented uneasily, shifting in place. The other rolled his eyes. 

“Look, Blake, I get it, this is your first full week in Gotham. But this place? This ain’t a forgiving city. You gotta get used to this stuff. This ain’t Star, this ain’t Metropolis, this is Gotham City. And it’s a dog eat dog world. So if I gotta sell narcs and opioids to kids? I damn well will, because I gotta eat. If you ain’t cool with it, then you best try your luck working for the Penguin. Falcone and Sionis? Nah, they ain’t afraid of drugs and they don’t give a shit who they sell to.” 

Blake shifted from side to side hesitantly. “It’s just…Tommy, I got kids of my own. I don’t-I don’t want to come home and find one of ‘em high or dead from drugs I helped get on the streets, y’know?” 

A groan echoed through the air as Tommy rolled his eyes. “Fine. You know what? Quit. See what fuckin’ happens, okay? Just quit fucking whining like the bitch you are-”

Tommy’s words cut off with a yelp as a massive, black figure dropped down on him. Blake froze, eyes going wide before he turned and pointed his gun at the figure. With a wild, fearful yell, he emptied the clip at the figure, eyes closed. When he opened his eyes, he squealed and jerked back against the wall, finger clicking the trigger on his gun uselessly. 

The strange figure leaned forward, white eyes narrowing furiously. “Go home. If I catch you committing crimes again, I promise I won’t let you off easy.”

With a terrified shriek, Blake dropped the gun and ran away from the figure. The black clad stranger watched him disappear down the streets before turning his attention to the warehouse. He sighed as he approached the doors. 

“What are the chances they didn’t hear that?” he asked over the comms. A soft huff graced his ears. 

“Oh I doubt anyone inside the warehouse didn’t hear the gunfire and terrified screams. Are you sure you didn’t get hurt?”

The figure winced beneath his cowl. “I’ll probably be bruised, but the armor held up. I’m lucky the guy didn’t try to aim for the head or legs. Fired straight at my chest.”

A soft hum echoed through his cowl and there was the sound of keys clicking rapidly from the other end of the comm. Bruce waited patiently, scanning the surroundings and keeping an eye on the door. He leaned down and pressed his fingers against the first goon’s neck, relaxing when he felt the flutter of a pulse against his gloves.

“Good news is, there’s another entrance.”

“What’s the bad news?” Bruce asked, pulling away from the goon as he pulled out a set of cuffs and locked his arms behind his back. He could almost hear the smirk in Alfred’s voice as he answered Bruce over the comms. 

“Bad news is, the other entrance is the skylight. Luckily for you, it’ll be an unexpected point of entry and it’s behind the main doors. Try not to get shot again tonight?”

Bruce chuckled softly as he grappled up to the roof of the building, quickly moving towards the skylight and counting the dozen or so men with guns pointed at the main door. “No promises, Agent A.”

“Good hunting, Agent A out.”

Bruce chuckled and then rolled his shoulders. 

“Let’s do this.”

He leapt forward, glass shattering around him and shouts echoing in his ears. Despite that, there was a slight grin on his face as he rushed forward, into the jaws of danger.

“Welcome back, sir, are you injured?” Alfred asked, watching as the car pulled into the cave. Bruce sighed as he got out, grimacing slightly. 

“I’ve got a few cuts and grazes, and I’m definitely going to be bruised tomorrow, but other than that? No. I’m fine. The armor held up exactly as it was supposed to, though I am going to be black and blue tomorrow,” Bruce commented absently. Alfred pursed his lips and sighed, turning away to grab a white and red box. 

“Then I suppose you won’t mind if I check up on you?” Bruce shot him a fond look, shaking his head slightly. 

“That’s really not necessary, Alfred, I can treat myself,” he tried to reassure. Alfred merely raised an eyebrow in response, making Bruce cringe in on himself. 

“I believe you, Master Bruce. I’ve no doubt that you can treat your own injuries, but I hope you’ll have some sympathy for your old caretaker when I say I’d like to do it just to be sure.” It was phrased like a question, but Bruce obediently stripped off the armor and sat down for Alfred to begin treating. He knew that tone of voice, where anything Alfred said was rhetorical and not something he could just ignore. 

He wouldn’t do that to Alfred. His caretaker father figure deserved better.

“You will need stitches, please hold still, Master Bruce.” The young man bit his lip when he first felt the bite of the needle, but refused to allow himself to tense or flinch and make Alfred’s job harder. 

There was silence for a few moments as Alfred worked, save for the slow breathing of Bruce as he tried to ignore the needle and thread pulling through flesh and the soft squeaking of bats up near the cave roof. Then Alfred finished and wrapped the wounds before tucking away the first aid kit. 

“Have you chosen a name yet, Master Bruce?” 

Bruce paused where he was pulling on a new shirt, turning to glance back at Alfred, who was standing next to the main computer. He tilted his head and blushed slightly, looking away from the older man. 

“It’s…it’s a bit stupid, Alfred.” The Gentleman raised an eyebrow, earning a soft sigh from Bruce. “I…I was thinking…Batman?”

Alfred stared at him for a moment longer, eyebrow neither raising higher or lowering. Then he sighed. He shook his head fondly and smiled at Bruce. 

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. You could’ve chosen Manbat instead. Still, for now let’s wait and see how the rest of the city adapts to you before settling on Batman. For all you know, they might bestow a better name on you.” Alfred turned and walked back up the stairs and out of the cave, leaving Bruce alone for the night. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before making his way over to the computer. 

“Alright, time to get to work. Cold cases and recently closed cases. Just…just two hours. Then I’ll go to bed,” he muttered to himself, ignoring the way he could already feel exhaustion dragging at his limbs. He softly cursed to himself before shaking his head to try and wake himself up. It would be fine. 

He had time.

“Have you heard?” A young, voluptuous woman smiled vacantly at the client sitting on the edge of her bed, lifting a cigarette to his lips. He paused, glancing back at her, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting. 

“Heard what?” he asked, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag. The woman chuckled and pushed herself upright, completely unphased by her own nudity. 

“Rumor has it there’s a newcomer on the crime scene,” she purred, leaning forward to drape her arms over her client’s shoulders. If that happened to press her breasts against his cheek, well, he’d let her know if he didn’t want it. He hummed thoughtfully. 

“Really? What are they tryin’ to run? Drugs? Guns? Anyone stupid enough to challenge Falcone, Sionis, and Cobblepot are idiots, but it’ll be nice to know so I can laugh when they get dropped off the harbor,” he said absently. Narrow, fair fingers snatched the cigarette from his lips and brought it to the woman’s. She fluttered her eyes at him as she took a drag, green eyes almost glowing in the dim red light. 

“He’s not running anything. It’s a newcomer…that’s trying to bring down the bosses,” she hummed delightedly. The man raised an eyebrow, taking his cigarette from her lips and holding it to the side so he could kiss her, melding together for a moment before he pulled back and took another drag. 

“Fucker’s gonna get himself killed even faster, in that case,” he dismissed, rising to his feet and plodding over to where he’d discarded his clothes on the ground. A delicate laugh trailed after him as the blonde laid a hand over her chest. 

“Supposedly he’s a demon. One thug emptied a Tommy gun’s clip into him and he didn’t even flinch.” The man stiffened, turning to look at the woman still laying on the bed, green eyes fluttering beneath fair lashes. 

“This newcomer got a name?” Soft pink lips curled in a slight smirk as the lady lounged on the bed. 

“Batman. They’re calling him Batman.” He nodded, dropping a wad of cash on the dresser by the door before heading out without a second look back. He stalked out of the halls of the building and only paused two streets down, turning his head to glance back at the building in confusion. 

She'd had blue eyes earlier that night, right? 

Yet all he could see when he thought of her was a haze of voluptuous flesh, blonde hair falling in waves down to her lower back, and bright, poisonous green eyes. Then the memory of her was swept away in a haze of smoke, mind latching onto the information she’d brought him. 

Batman, huh? He wouldn’t last a week.

Batman wasn’t supposed to last. Batman wasn’t supposed to actually be a problem. Yet one man, a single man dressed in leather like a bat, was causing problems across the city. One man cracking down on corrupt cops, drug runners and imports, crashing and confiscating weapons shipped into the city or just being smuggled through. Every one of the big families or names had put out hits for the Bat, furious and angry as they felt their control over the city begin to slip because of a single man. 

His encounters with them grew more and more frequent as they began desperately attempting to kill the demon haunting their shadows. There were even a few times where they’d confirmed the monster could bleed. 

But no matter how many times they shot him, stabbed him, or generally just attempted to blow him up, he just came back.

Alfred could only watch worriedly from the sidelines as Bruce upgraded his armor for the tenth time that month. Thugs were getting smarter about where to aim. And…

Alfred glanced to the side, where a dark figure was lounging on the rocks, pouting slightly and frowning at Bruce. Her eyes flicked to Alfred, dark grimy brown eyes -the same color as Gotham’s harbor- flashed green for a moment before she beckoned him closer. Alfred grimaced but obediently approached, shivering at the feeling of a cloud of smoke enveloping him. 

“...My Lady?” he asked hesitantly. Gotham pursed her lips, tilting her head slightly as she stared at Bruce, still obliviously leaned over his workbench. 

“Are things…too easy for him, Alfred?” 

The butler swallowed thickly, nervously, as he glanced between Gotham and Bruce. He bit his lip as her eyes flicked to him before lowering his head as the truth spilled from his lips. “Perhaps…a bit, My Lady. Bringing down the mob is, I believe, well within his capabilities.”

Gotham hummed thoughtfully, nose wrinkling slightly as she began to tap her nails on the stone beneath her. Her hair floated around her face like smoke for a moment, before resolving into smooth, neat waves. Her opera gloves disappeared and she absently injected a syringe worth of drugs into her arm. Alfred grimaced in distaste, but Gotham didn’t even bother to glance at him as she pulled on a set of surgical gloves. 

“That’s…no fun,” she pouted, absently snapping the gloves on her wrists. Then a smile curled over her face as she studied Bruce. “But I may have a way to fix that.”

“My Lady…didn’t you tell Bruce that he would be able to fix things? Wasn’t that the whole point of him becoming Batman to begin with??” Alfred protested weakly. Gotham shot a sharp glare at him, the same look Alfred saw so many of Gotham’s high society shoot those they deemed ‘lesser’. That sneer and icy eyes that screamed ‘how dare you exist in my presence’ before stalking away. 

“Except there’s nothing to fix. I told him he could help, not that he could make a real, permanent difference. Or are you going to look me in the eye and tell me that I need fixing, Alfred? You would dare tell your Mistress that there’s something wrong with her?” Her words were sharp and the only reason Bruce hadn’t noticed Alfred conversing with Gotham was because she didn’t want him to notice them. Alfred straightened his shoulders and glared at Gotham in return. 

“There is something wrong with you. In fact, I’d dare say there are many things wrong with you that need to be fixed-” He cut off sharply as the air around him thickened with smoke. He coughed, choking on the air as Gotham stared at him. 

It was the same way a child might watch a slug or snail, after they’d shaken salt over the creature. That curious, innocently cruel gaze as the weaker creature began to melt and weaken before them, because of them. 

He could only hope she’d choose to be merciful and not continue pouring metaphorical salt over him. 

“I’ve tolerated quite enough of your cheek, Alfred. I ordered you to assist Bruce, but that doesn’t mean from me. I will do what I like, when I like, and if I want to drag Bruce into it, then he will obediently follow. A Knight is obedient to their Queen, after all, and I will be more than happy to prove that to you, My Gentleman.” The smoke pulled itself from Alfred’s lungs and he gratefully took a breath of fresh air, staggering away from Gotham as she stared at him. “Remember your place, Alfred. You bend knee to me and no other.”

Alfred nodded slightly, inclining his head to the entity before him as she stared at him for a moment longer. With a sigh, she swept herself upright, rising from where she’d been perched on the stone. She turned, watching Bruce for a moment longer before a smirk tugged at her lips. 

“Now. I have other matters to attend to, things to…set up for my precious Prince. I wouldn’t want him to get bored too quickly, now would I?” With a delicate laugh, she vanished into the shadows, leaving Alfred shivering slightly. The older man quickly turned and stared at Bruce, who was still completely ignorant to the conversation that had been had behind his back. 

In plain view, no less. If Bruce had turned around to look for Alfred even once, he probably would’ve seen Gotham chatting with his butler. 

Or perhaps not, considering that what Gotham wanted, Gotham got.

Alfred sighed, approaching Bruce with a plate full of food, quickly retrieved from where he’d set it down after spotting Gotham. It was slightly cooled, but considering how focused Bruce was on his armor upgrades, Alfred wasn’t certain the other man would actually eat it until after it had already gone completely cold anyways. “Please remember to eat and take breaks, Master Bruce.”

Bruce grunted at him absently but didn’t look up from where he was working. Alfred sighed softly and turned away, retreating upstairs to the rest of the manor. Alfred still needed to sleep, after all, and hopefully Bruce would take advantage of the daytime hours to get some rest in before the night came again. 

If Gotham was actually cooking something up just for Bruce…

He’d need it.

Batman frowned as he approached the ringleader of the group. The figure was pale, abnormally pale. If Bruce didn’t know any better, he’d think they were an albino from how pale they were. But even then, it wasn’t like they were so fair and pale he could see their veins, no. It was more like the leader’s skin was white as paper, like it had been bleached.

A mad laugh cackled through the air and Batman stiffened when the figure turned around to look directly at him, pointing a gun right towards his head. He jerked to the side, rolling along the ground as the gun fired and a flag reading bang shot towards where he’d just been sitting. 

Now that he could see the figure properly, Batman grimaced slightly at their appearance. Because he was…a clown? Bright green hair, like limes or Mountain Dew bottles fell in messy, greasy, disheveled waves around his face. His lips were covered in smeared red lipstick that stretched across his face in a facsimile of a smile. Batman was fairly certain he could see every single tooth the clown had when he smiled, pulling his face into something grotesque and unnatural. 

But worst were the clown’s eyes.

Because there was no light of sanity or understanding in them. No anger or fear, just plain maniacal glee. And no one was ever that happy to see the Batman. 

“Why so…serious, Batman? You should…lighten up!” Explosions shook the ground and Batman stumbled, just for a moment before turning his attention to the clown, who was laughing loudly. It was a sharp, grating laugh that raised the hair on Bruce’s neck. 

“What have you done?” he growled furiously. The clown only laughed louder and pointed to a window nearby. 

“I just made everyone laugh! Why don’t you see for yourself, Batsy!” Batman rushed to the window, slamming past the clown as he went and staring in horror at the city. Two buildings were on fire and crumbling to the ground. They were apartment buildings, ones Batman remembered helping a few children get back to after they’d nearly been trafficked by the mob. 

But in addition to the danger of the falling buildings, there were strange purple clouds floating through the air, spreading with each impact of stone from the bombed buildings. Laughter was beginning to lift with the clouds, becoming louder as more and more voices joined in, but there was something…wrong with the sound. There was an undercurrent of fear and panic, with the laughter being intermittently cut off by screams for help. Screams for someone to make it stop! 

Batman whirled, fist slamming into the clown, who’d been standing behind him, with a raised crowbar in hand. With a quick twist of his wrist, the pale clown dropped the crowbar with a cry of pain as Batman pinned him to the ground. 

“What did you do? What’s in the smoke?” he ground out, twisting the clown’s arm. 

Instead of the pain or fear that most people reacted with when grabbed by Batman, this maniac just laughed louder. “I told you! I already told you what I did! I made them laugh!”

There was a sharp, sickening pop as Batman twisted the stranger’s shoulder out of its socket, dislocating it and cutting off the man’s laugh. But as soon as it had stopped, it started back up again as the clown turned his face to look at Batman, eyes practically bulging and bloodshot as he stared at the Dark Knight. 

“You really want to know? Really, really?” he cackled, voice pained but his smile still wide on his face. Batman glared at him as the clown began to chuckle again, barely managing to speak through his laughter. “The gas just makes them laugh! Oh, they’ll laugh alright.”

He turned underneath Batman so he could look at him face to face, eye to eye. His lipstick was smeared beyond what it had been when Batman had first seen his face, but none of the white in his skin had so much as shifted. At least it confirmed that he wasn’t wearing some kind of white makeup or powder. But that was a pity trophy for Bruce as he heard what the clown finished saying. 

“Laugh themselves to death that is!” The man trailed off into mad laughter until Batman slammed his fist into the other’s face and knocked him out. He took a few panting breaths before stepping away, quickly cuffing the man and turning on his comm. 

“Agent A, what’s going on out there?” he growled, hurrying up to the roof of the building. 

“Master B…it’s-don’t- don’t go into the smoke, Master B. Nothing has been able to get the victims to stop laughing yet, even when given oxygen by paramedics wearing gas masks. And you, Master B…you don’t have anything to protect you from the gas.”

“But the apartments-”  Bruce cut himself off as there was another explosion and the first building crumbled completely, crushed beneath its own weight. Screams rang out for a few moments and then the building went quiet. 

“I fear there’s not much you can do for them at this point.” 

Alfred’s voice was horrified even over the comms. Batman let out a furious yell and turned, slamming his fist into the wall. Concrete crumbled around his gauntlet and he swore as he returned to where the clown still lay unconscious. 

“Bring the person responsible for the attack to the GCPD and then…return to the Cave, Master B. We will need to figure out a cure for this gas…and figure out methods of preventing this kind of attack again.”

The cops weren’t entirely sure what to think or do about the Batman dropping off an unconscious clown at their doorstep. 

Up until Batman had explained through gritted teeth that the clown was the one responsible for the attack on the Bowery. The one that had already confirmed well over seventy deaths. And those were only the ones confirmed to be in the apartments when they collapsed. It didn’t include the victims of the new gas attack. 

Then Batman disappeared into the night, hurrying back to the Cave with a furious determination. 

This could not happen again.

Except it did. 

And it kept happening.

Madmen crawled out of the woodwork like Batman had revealed an infestation of termites. Joker was merely the first, soon followed by Scarecrow, Bane, and the Riddler. Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, and Clayface appeared seemingly out of thin air, causing more problems as time continued forward. Thousands of victims, innocent civilians who got dragged into the attacks of these villains. Joker, Scarecrow, and Poison Ivy held the highest victim count due to the gasses they favored. 

It quickly devolved into a game of cat and mouse between Batman and those rogues, with them trying to make a new strain of their toxins while Batman tried to create a cure that would work on all of their strains. 

On the other hand, Bane, Killer Croc, and Clayface became a battle of physical might and beatdowns. Several of which Batman walked away from with broken bones and severe concussions. 

It took two years before things began to calm down again. 

Two years before Batman had plans set up for each of the Rogues that had popped out of nowhere. Two exhausting years of Bruce running desperately around the city hoping and praying that he’d make it in time to save the civilians. 

Bruce collapsed to his knees, reaching forward and cradling the limp body of a young girl in his arms. Her face was frozen in a final expression of terror, eyes gouged out in a desperate attempt to save herself from whatever she’d been hallucinating. He swallowed thickly and choked down the urge to sob, for this innocent child, taken too soon. She wasn’t the only one. 

There was never just one.

Two years.

Before Gotham grew bored again. 

And then? Then she gazed upon her Knight, her Vengeance and Justice, her Night, her precious Prince. Grown into full adulthood and covered in muscles, bruises, and scars. 

Her eyes lit up, a new, unfamiliar smile brightening her face. She vanished soundlessly from the cave and turned her attention to the dark silhouette that had frozen when Gotham first appeared in the new, lavish room. 

“My dear, sweet little Kitten…I’ve a new idea I want to try…I’ll need to borrow your body for it though~!” The woman jolted, desperately trying to jump away from Gotham, but smoke enveloped her and her body went lax for a moment, dropping to the floor bonelessly. Her body rose fluidly and green eyes flashed in the darkness as a soft laugh purred out of the woman. “Now let’s have some fun.”

“Bruce- oh! Yes, right- thERE!” Selina moaned and her nails scratched red lines down Bruce’s back as he blinked, lips slowly pulling into a frown. His head was foggy, hazy. Almost like when Poison Ivy had tried to use her mind control pollen on him, but it hadn’t worked then. He’d used his training and kept control of himself, ensuring that she’d go back to Arkham like she was supposed to. 

So how-

“Bruce~! Why- why are you stopping?” Selina panted, hands cupping Bruce’s face to turn his head so he would look at her. Her green eyes seemed to glow and pulse, a mesmerizing rhythm that left his mouth dry and head fluctuating between a pulsing headache and a fluffy haze. He swallowed thickly, mouth dry and stuffy as he tried to remember what was happening. 

He’d- he’d been out as Batman, right? Right. There was a thief, Catwoman. A minor Rogue, barely registering as a problem. Selina Kyle was only someone he kept track of because of the worth of the items she stole, but otherwise she really wasn’t much of a problem. 

A skilled thief with a pretty face, decent fame, and the knowledge of how to use both to her benefit. 

That had been Batman’s assessment of Catwoman. 

Not someone dangerous, not a real threat, and not someone he was interested in.

So then why-

Selina rolled her hips and clenched down, earning a soft, confused groan of pleasure from Bruce as he instinctually responded and thrust forward. He blinked, eyes narrowing as his brows drew together. 

Something’s- what’s happening? Something’s wrong. What am I-

“Don’t think, Brucie, baby. Just give me what I want, My Prince.” 

Bruce’s hips thrust forward without conscious thought. He jerked in place, mind coldly snapping into place even as his hands gripped tighter around Selina’s hips and he pistoned into her warmth. She threw back her head and moaned, but a chill ran down Bruce’s spine at the sound. There were multiple voices. They were mostly close in tenor and pitch, but Selina was speaking as if there were multiple people speaking at once. 

Something is wrong-

“Nothing’s wrong, Bruce. Just- ah- keep going!” 

He couldn’t stop himself. 

He was screaming in his own head, but the only thing that came out were groans of pleasure and soft grunts. His hands wouldn’t release where they were holding onto Selina- no, whoever was controlling Catwoman- and he couldn’t stop thrusting his hips. He leaned forward, easily kissing Catwoman, tongues twining together when they met.

Disgusting stop it I don’t want this stop please I’m gonna be sick stop please please stop don’t touch me it’s so wet and slimy stop get away from me why can’t I let go why can’t I stop-

His body finally halted, freezing in place as warmth and delight rushed through his body. Hands covered his face and finally Bruce regained control of his vocal cords, just enough to release a muffled scream. And still he didn’t pull back. A muffled sob escaped the figure below him and Bruce opened his eyes, peering weakly through the rotting, dirty opera gloves covering his face. 

Selina was trembling. Her arms released him and curled around herself, covering her chest in a weak attempt to protect her modesty, as though Bruce himself weren’t buried to the hilt inside of her. As though there weren’t bite marks and bruises littering her shoulders and neck, that Bruce feared he’d placed there. 

Despite her shivering, her face was slack. Her eyes were glazed and empty of all light, to the point where Bruce momentarily panicked, wondering if she’d died. 

But no, she was still clenching around his length. A wave of nausea raced through him and he threw himself backwards, stumbling and hitting the ground hard. He gasped and choked down a horrified shout as he patted himself down, making sure that he once more had control over his body again. 

“S-Selina? What’s- are you- what happened? I-” Bruce cut himself off, grabbing a discarded blanket and hesitantly, uneasily draped it over Selina’s body. She swallowed thickly and her eyes met his, tears falling silently. “What did I…what have I done?”

His whisper was loud in the otherwise silent room. The horror and stark terror was loud in the rasped sound as he met her eyes. Her hopeless, sorrowful eyes that were…

Looking over his shoulder.

Bruce whirled to face the unknown threat, armor or no armor, clothes or no clothes. He would fight. If someone had been strong enough to mind control him to make him rape Selina-

Hands cupped his face and cold, dead lips pressed against his. The scent of the Gotham Harbor burst in a nauseating bubble around him as he jerked his head back and coughed, head swimming slightly, as though he’d just been held underwater for a minute or two. A chilling laugh echoed through the air and Bruce turned, eyes widening at the sight of a familiar haunting figure. 

Ripped, rotting black evening gown.

Dripping red, like the liquid pooling on the concrete around his legs.

Pearls framed in bottle caps held on a broken steel chain.

Pearls scattered along the ground, turning red from the liquid they were being smothered in. The buzzing echo of a gunshot echoed in his ears as he watched them fall.

Messy, thick hair and tattered opera gloves with chipped, manicured nails. 

Lightning flashed and a figure was standing in front of him. It shouldn’t have been possible. He should’ve seen someone approaching, but there she was, standing in front of him like she’d been there the whole time. 

They won’t do anything.

…who won’t?

The police. They never do.

A child, fighting back sobs as he curled around his pillow, feeling cold fingers carding through his hair. He looked up. 

…maybe YOU could help.

What do I have to do?

I would love NOTHING more than to tell you.

Bruce reeled away from the figure, legs bumping into the bed and nearly sending him tumbling onto Selina. He twisted away from her, landing harshly on the ground as the woman from that night stared down at him with a lustful smirk. 

“Hello, Brucie,” she purred. He stared silently at her, earning a soft pout. She put her hand on her hip and huffed at him. “Nothing to say? Even after the wonderful time we just spent together?”

“What…what are you talking about?” Bruce asked hoarsely. Movement drew his attention back to the bed, where Selina had curled herself into a ball and was sobbing softly. He flinched, guilt rearing its head at the reminder of what he’d just done to her. “Selina-”

“Stop crying, already, you knew what you were signing up for,” the Lady said dismissively. Selina’s sobs immediately went silent and her tears dried up, but her face was still carefully blank, an expression Batman had seen many times on victims going into shock. “You’re interrupting my moment with Bruce.”

With a wave of her hand, Bruce found himself deposited on his bed, his bed. The one in the manor. The one he distinctly hadn’t assaulted Selina in.

How- what just- is Selina-

Arms wrapped around his neck and a nude body pressed against his, a soft thigh grinding against his limp length. Glowing, poisonous green eyes stared at him as the Lady moaned, pressing her voluptuous chest against Bruce. 

“As annoying as it is to do this without a vessel, I think it’ll be far more satisfying this way-”

Bruce regained control of himself and shoved the woman off of him. He reeled away from her, nearly slipping off the bed as he rushed to put his back to the wall. “Who are you?? What- what are you doing, what did you do to me? What the hell did you do to Selina?”

His voice was weak and afraid in a way he didn’t remember it being since he’d been eight years old. Eight years old and cuddling with his mother under the thick blankets as thunder crashed in the sky above them. 

Mom, I’m scared! Make it stop!

That’s just thunder, sweetheart. No one can make the thunder be quiet. We just have to learn to live with it. No matter how much it scares us.

“...did you just hit me?” Bruce stiffened, flinching away as toxic, glowing eyes latched onto his form. “After everything I’ve done for you? I take one small thing, and you strike me?”

“...who are you?” Bruce whispered, curling away from the figure. Every instinct he had screamed at him to flee. To leap out the window and run, get away from this terrifying entity. In the blink of an eye she was kneeling over him, nails digging into the skin of his cheek as she leaned forward, the scent of rot and decaying bodies heavy on her lips, making him gag.

“Who am I? I am the one who has given you everything you have. The one who made you what you are. Without me you would be nothing, Bruce Wayne. I am your Mistress. Your Lady. You are my sleepless Night, my Vengeance, my Justice, my Dark Knight, my Prince. You owe everything to me, Bruce,” she hissed. Bruce froze, paling and swallowing thickly. 

“...Gotham?” he whispered, voice muffled behind her hand and practically begging for her to deny it. To tell him he was crazy. And yet she simply released him and stared down at him, lips pursed in a sneer. 

“...I’ve lost the mood.” With that final mutter she vanished into thin air and Bruce stared for a moment at where she’d been. He shifted and slipped off the bed with a loud crash, yelping in pain as he pulled a vase of flowers down with him, the porcelain shattering around him and stabbing into his flesh. 

He stared absently at the blood that began to drip from his flesh, hearing the faint sound of footsteps approaching rapidly. 

“Master Bruce! Master Bruce, are you…” Alfred trailed off at the sight of Bruce, taking in his pseudo son’s distant eyes and the scent of rotten water and sewage waste lingering in the air. Alfred winced and swallowed thickly before leaning forward and gently supporting Bruce to get back into the bed. “Careful, Master Bruce. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Alfred’s murmur was loud in the room, and he trailed off into silence as he quickly retreated to grab a first aid kit from the connected bathroom. Carefully treating Bruce’s injuries was done in silence, with slight trembles beginning to shake the young man’s body. 

“...Alfred?”

The butler closed his eyes for a moment, as though pretending if he didn’t look, he wouldn’t hear the words Bruce was undoubtedly about to ask. He opened his eyes after a moment and spoke up, keeping his eyes firmly on the first aid kit as he put everything back into place. 

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Who was that? There was- there was someone else here. In my room. She- there weren’t supposed to be guests over and no high society woman would wear a dress that ripped-”

Alfred flinched, mind flashing to a single individual. It was all too obvious to him exactly who Bruce was speaking of. Between the smell still hanging in Bruce’s meticulously cleaned room and the description, Alfred was certain there was only one person Bruce could be talking about, desperately trying to reason to himself that she wasn’t whatever she’d claimed to be. 

And unfortunately Bruce didn’t miss the reaction either.

“You…you know her. Don’t you?” His eyes were pleading and Alfred opened his mouth, words easily coming to his mind that would soothe the young man, his son. But the instant he moved to speak, pollution and cigarette smoke clogged his lungs. He choked and coughed, shoulders slumping as he realized what that meant. 

It was time to come clean.

A heavy weight fell on Alfred’s shoulders and he stilled for a moment, staring blankly into thin air before taking a deep, shuddering breath and answering.

“I…do know her. I never wanted to, Master Bruce, and I certainly never meant to be…connected to her,” Alfred trailed off for a moment before swallowing thickly and continuing. “She…she is Gotham City itself. She manifests as she pleases, and does what she wants. I…I first met her in a drunken stupor. I was only supposed to be visiting Gotham, I had never intended to stay.”

“Then why did you?” Bruce asked hoarsely. Alfred grimaced. 

“I made a contract…while I was drunk. It wasn’t…I didn’t think it was anything binding. We’d met in a bar, and I thought she was simply a lovely local looking for a good time. She asked me to be her Gentleman and I…I agreed. We spent the night together and then I left the next day.”

Bruce stared at him. “...but?”

“But I could never stay away. I spent months trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Why I’d wake up smelling like cigarettes when I didn’t smoke, or like toxic water when I’d been in the desert for two weeks. I started hearing whispers and genuinely thought I’d gone insane. It only lessened when I returned to the city. I thought perhaps I would need to wean myself off the city, but every time I left, the symptoms only worsened. They came faster, and were more drastic. I began hallucinating her staring at me from the shadows, calling, begging for me to return. Eventually, I gave up on escaping this city. I came back, and I haven’t left in almost forty years. I haven’t even bothered since the last attempt.” Alfred fell silent, staring at his hands absently as he recalled his first few years with Gotham. 

“You…you’ve been trapped here? This whole time?” Bruce whispered, eyes wide. Alfred pursed his lips.

“I haven’t tried to leave in many years, Master Bruce. It is…entirely possible that I can leave. I just…don’t know if I have the willpower to try.” Bruce stared at him for a moment before swallowing thickly. “But…how did you end up spending time with her, Master Bruce? I thought you’d gone out as Batman for the night.”

Bruce swallowed thickly and shuddered, forcing his mind to skip past the memories he had of Selina and…her room, instead trying to remember his patrol. There were a few petty crimes in the first hour or so…but after that he spotted Catwoman and everything went blank.

“I…I don’t remember the last few hours, Alfred. I remember starting my patrol, but as soon as I saw Catwoman…everything cut off. I- Alfred, I-I woke up-in- inside of her. I didn’t get control of my body back until after-” Bruce choked and cut himself off, staring horrified at the blankets. Alfred stiffened, eyes widening in shock before his shoulders slumped. 

“I- it is alright, Master Bruce-”

“But it’s not, Alfred! I raped Selina! She was crying, Alfred, and I just left her there! I didn’t clean her up, I didn’t try to comfort her, I panicked and then I was here and that-that woman- Gotham- was just trying to continue like nothing happened-” 

Alfred moved forward and pulled Bruce into his arms, holding him secure as Bruce let out a hoarse cry. No tears fell from Bruce’s eyes, but his hands clutched desperately to Alfred and he shook like a leaf in a storm inside the safe hold of Alfred’s arms. Alfred swallowed down his own fury and nausea. 

“You didn’t have control of yourself,” he murmured. 

“That’s not- that’s not an excuse, Alfred! It’s not a valid excuse when a drunkard rapes a woman, it’s not an excuse for a higher up to blame it on the woman, it’s not-”

“You physically did not have control of yourself,” Alfred cut in, eyes sharp as he pulled back and cupped Bruce’s face, tilting his head up so his son’s eyes could meet his own. “You have seen the effects Poison Ivy’s pollen can have on people, you have seen how they react when it is no longer affecting them. Gotham is a manifestation of the city and the people that live within her. It is entirely possible that she drugged you, either with Ivy’s pollen or something specific for what she had in mind, but you are NOT at fault.”

Bruce stared at Alfred for a moment before slowly pulling away. He stumbled over to his desk and picked up his phone, slowly dialing a phone number. It rang three times, before someone picked up. 

“...Bruce?” 

Selina’s voice was hoarse and cracked, as though she’d just been screaming or sobbing. Alfred flinched at her voice and Bruce took a shuddering inhale before speaking. 

“Selina…are you alright?” There was silence over the phone before a choked, cut off sob slipped through and then Selina spoke again. 

“I…I think this is a conversation we should- should have face to face.”

Bruce nodded and hummed agreeably, hands shaking slightly as he responded. “Feel free to come over when- when you feel ready, Selina. I- I know this is probably hard for you.”

There was silence for a moment, before the phone clicked and beeped, letting Bruce and Alfred know that the call had ended. Bruce swallowed before turning to look at Alfred, guilt casting deep shadows in his eyes. 

“I…I know you say it’s not my fault, Alfred, but I-” He shook his head slowly. “-I can’t believe that until I’ve spoken with Selina. You…you didn’t see her, Alfred. As much as I think you want to protect me, there’s another victim involved in this. And she…she deserves to be the one to decide if you’re right or…if you’re wrong. I hurt her, Alfred. And not in the usual Batman way, where we exchange blows and she darts off into the night to lick her wounds.”

Alfred watched Bruce for a moment before nodding slowly. “I suppose I shall wait at the door then. And you…you will get dressed and wait in the parlor closest to the side door. I don’t believe Miss Kyle will wish to come through the front doors tonight.”

Unsurprisingly, Alfred was right. He quickly escorted her to the parlor and gestured to one of the loveseats, specifically chosen because it wasn’t directly opposite of Bruce. Alfred knew that Bruce was worried and guilty, but he didn’t want Bruce to unknowingly slip into Batman and start interrogating the poor woman. He quickly handed her a mug of hot chocolate and nudged a plate of fresh lavender brownies closer to her. She gave him a weak smile and Alfred slipped away, standing next to the door as Selina took a sip of her drink. 

She swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the table in front of her. Bruce watched her for a minute before leaning forward slightly.

“Selina?” She flinched at his voice and pain flickered over Bruce’s face. “I’m-”

“Don’t.” He cut off sharply at Selina’s voice. There was no emotion in her voice, only pure exhaustion. She didn’t sound angry, scared, or hurt. Just tired. “This isn’t your fault, Bruce.”

“But-”

“It’s Gotham’s.” 

Bruce’s jaw shut with a sharp click and Selina took another sip of her hot chocolate, shivering slightly. She exhaled slowly before turning to look at Bruce, truly looking at him for the first time since he’d regained control of his body. Meeting her eyes, Bruce came to the startling realization that even if Selina had green eyes like Gotham, hers were darker. More rich pine or malachite than the toxic glowing shade of Gotham’s eyes.

“I…Bruce, I’m one of Gotham’s Aspects.” 

Bruce blinked at Selina before tilting his head to the side, brow furrowing. “What- what does that mean?”

Selina stared at him for a moment before turning to stare at Alfred, eyes wide and jaw dropped slightly. “You- you don’t know?? Neither of you know?”

“Know what, Selina?” The woman leaned back, studying both men before sighing. 

“Neither of you were even aware of what you were getting into, were you? When you signed a contract with Gotham?” Alfred flinched and looked away, while Bruce frowned. 

“Selina, neither of us signed a contract with Gotham,” he explained. Selina looked at him for a moment before reaching down and grabbing one of the brownies, eating it quickly and delicately. Her eyes were shut and she sighed, shoulders slumping when she finally finished the brownie. 

“It’s not a physical agreement, or a written piece of paper. Gotham could’ve made you her Aspects without your knowledge or consent, but she likes to trick people into becoming her Aspects. I was…I was suspicious of her, which is why I know more than you do, apparently. Aspects are…representations of pieces of her. For example, if Gotham was a mural, then her Aspects would be a specific tile or group of tiles within the overall image that represent a piece of the city. She- she typically likes to address individuals by their Aspect name. A specific title she addresses you by,” Selina explained slowly. Alfred stiffened at the last statement, causing Selina’s eyes to flick to him. “Ah. You do know, just not in these terms. What does she call you?”

Bruce glanced at Alfred, whose expression was twisted with bitterness. “Her Gentleman. She calls me her Gentleman.”

Selina snorted, lips quirking in a bitter smirk. “Lucky. You get to be a person.”

“What does that mean?” Bruce asked, stiffening slightly and refocusing on Selina. She laughed, a high, hollow sound that echoed through the room. 

“Take a guess, Bruce.” She shook her head and sighed. “She calls me her ‘Kitty Cat’. I’m not a person in her eyes, I’m a pet. It’s- it’s part of what happened…tonight.”

Bruce stiffened at the reminder of the events from earlier in the evening, guilt flickering across his face as he grimaced. Selina huffed and took another sip of her drink, staring at the table distantly. 

“It’s not your fault, Bruce. I mean that literally. After all, neither of us consented to what happened.” Bruce jolted, head whipping up to stare at Selina in shock. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “What, you thought I was crying because you raped me? Please. You weren’t even remotely aware of what you were doing until the end and the first thing you did when you had control was give me space and offer me something to cover myself with. You didn’t want what happened. And I…I didn’t have a say. I’m not a person to Gotham, which means she can do whatever she wants with me. The same way a child might dress up their pet for Halloween, or take them to the vet. Or…take them to the breeder. The only difference is that Gotham has more manual control.”

“She can…possess you?” Bruce murmured, eyes widening in understanding. Selina nodded shortly. 

“Total control. I don’t- as far as she’s concerned, I have no rights or autonomy of my own unless she gives it to me. But she doesn’t…she doesn’t typically want to control me in that way. Tonight was- tonight was a first,” Selina finished awkwardly. There was silence in the parlor for a moment before Bruce swallowed thickly and spoke up. 

“If…if you are…her Cat and Alfred is her Gentleman…then what am I?” he whispered. Selina shrugged helplessly. 

“I couldn’t say. I know you’re an Aspect, I can sense that much. You’re more powerful than I am too, so you either have more Aspects assigned to you or they’re more attached to personhood than mine. Or both, if you’re very lucky.” Alfred swallowed thickly. 

“I-I think I might know. Years ago…when she first took interest in you, Master Bruce, and before you started your training, she-she told me what you would be.” Bruce perked up hesitantly, staring at Alfred while the older man took a deep breath to regain his composure. “She claimed you would be her Night, her Justice, her Vengeance, her Dark Knight, and…and her Prince.” 

Bruce swallowed thickly. “She said that too…when I pushed her away.”

“Then I suppose that clears things up. You have five titles, and two of them are explicitly people. And even the other three are more abstract than subservient,” Selina pointed out with a weak smile. “It could be worse.”

You could be like Selina, after all, trapped as nothing more than a pet.

Bruce took a deep, shuddering inhale and leaned back against the sofa he was sitting on. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Selina. “Thank you…for telling me this. For being willing to even get close after what happened. You’re welcome to spend the rest of the night here…if you want, or return to your home. I…I need to think on.. what you’ve said.” 

Selina smiled weakly at Bruce. “Like I said, Bruce, it’s not your fault. I don’t- I don’t blame you. Gotham is the one at fault, like always. And…I think I’ll take you up on your offer tonight. I’m…I’m tired. You’re certainly a beast in bed, whether you’re aware of it or not,” she teased weakly. 

The humor fell flat as Bruce struggled not to throw up as his mind rapidly brought up the memory of bite marks and bruises covering Selina’s shoulders and neck. Thankfully she was wearing a turtleneck, so they weren’t visible. Selina’s smile faded and her shoulder’s slumped. 

“I think I’d like to retire for the evening, if you don’t mind, Mr. Wayne.” Bruce nodded slowly. 

“Of course, Miss Kyle. Alfred can show you to the guest room. I hope- I hope you sleep well,” he forced out. She nodded and rose to her feet, though Bruce couldn’t help but notice the limp in her step. She wasn’t moving as smoothly as normal, instead wincing and flinching every few steps. He quickly turned his attention to the table, where the plate of brownies sat cooling. The sound of Alfred’s footsteps faded away and Bruce shut his eyes sharply as the scent of hot chocolate and brownies was wiped away under the scent of pollution and ozone. 

“Well…now you know the truth. What will you do with it?” Gotham purred, draping herself over his shoulders. He jerked away, rising to his feet and turning to glare at the figure, still casually draped over the back of the couch. 

“What’s your goal here?” he snarled. Gotham raised an eyebrow and her smile faded slightly. “Is this some- some kind of game to you? Why would you do- why would you-”

“What? Why would I want to spend a night in bed with my Prince?” she purred, vanishing from the couch to reappear next to Bruce, tilting his head up so he had to look up at her. He moved to pull away, but her hand gripped his jaw painfully tight and held him in place. “And goal? There is no goal, Bruce. Why should there be? I am Gotham. Everything you fight for, everything you fight against. It’s not so much a game to me as a way to stave off the inevitable boredom. And you…well, you interest me in so MANY ways.”

Her free hand trailed down his chest, slipping in between his legs and cupping his length. Bruce shuddered and recoiled, hands coming up to shove her away. He staggered into the loveseat that Selina had sat in only a few minutes prior, staring up at Gotham as her smile flickered and died. 

“Was this- did you always intend to do this? Why- did you set me up? The night my parents died, was that-” Bruce could hardly string two thoughts together. Nothing made sense, and as Gotham continued to stare darkly at him, his heart began to race faster in his chest. “Did you- did you intentionally kill my parents? So that- so that I could become your Aspect?”

Gotham rolled her eyes. “I already told Alfred years ago, I didn’t set them up to die.”

“But you didn’t do anything to stop it, either,” Bruce whispered accusingly. Gotham sneered. 

“Grow up, Bruce. They were going to die sooner or later, and it’s not like I made their enemies go after them. They made their mistakes and paid the price. Be careful that you don’t follow in their footsteps,” she hissed. Bruce stiffened and rose to his feet, glaring dangerously at Gotham. 

“You don’t talk about them like that,” he snarled. Gotham bristled, eyes narrowing dangerously before suddenly she was standing right in front of him, towering a full head over him with thunder flashing in her hair and smoke spilling from the hem of her dress. 

“Or what, Bruce? What power do you have over me? What makes you think you can decide anything I do? Don’t tell me what to do, Bruce, you’re just going to make me mad.” Bruce scoffed. 

“And what happens then? You reveal my identity as Batman to the public? Then what? You lose your Aspect and your entertainment,” he growled back. Gotham’s lip curled in a cruel smirk and she leaned back, eyes glinting with…cruel approval. A shiver ran down Bruce’s spine and he gritted his teeth, ignoring the voice in the back of his head screaming that he’d messed up.

“You’re right, Bruce. I can’t do anything to you. And I won’t do anything to Alfred either. You’re both my precious Aspects, and I won’t allow you to be taken away from me.” Gotham tilted her head back, studying the art in the room before snapping her head back to look at Bruce, eyes glowing and her grin a nasty, feral thing. The man flinched under her sharp expression. “But, why don’t you ask Alfred what happened the last time he made me angry? Or perhaps…no. I think I’ve been nice enough. I gave you chances to calm down and accept what you were given, but you didn’t want it. So I think you’ll need to learn the hard way.”

She laughed and floated towards the door, leaving Bruce standing alone. She paused at the doors, turning to look back at him with a cruel smirk. 

“Keep an eye on the news, Brucie. You might have a new Rogue soon.” 

With a laugh she vanished into thin air and Bruce slumped down into the seat, staring at where she’d been before slowly looking down at his hands. He swallowed thickly, slowly hunching over to press his face against his hands. 

“What have I done?”

The creation of Two-Face was both a surprise and not. 

Batman threw himself wholeheartedly into restoring his old friend, into bringing Harvey back to himself after the horrific attack he’d experienced that first left his face scarred and disfigured. At first, things seemed to work and Bruce had thought for a moment that things would be okay. That perhaps Gotham’s punishment would be temporary. 

Then Sloane attempted to replace Harvey as Two-Face, effectively bringing the Rogue back onto the scene. So Batman had to fix the actor too. 

But once Sloane was fixed, Harvey got dragged into a Rogue attack and was too close to an explosion, once more scarring the left side of his face. This time, as Batman stared down at the figure unconscious beneath him, he felt delicate, cold fingers creep around his shoulders. 

“This is what happens when you make me angry, Batsy. All the other Rogues? I made them because I was bored. Because the organized crime rings were too easy for you. But this? Oh, poor, sweet Harvey. He thought he was the Sun, he thought he was Apollo. Everyone did, and why shouldn’t they? He was young, influential, and beautiful. Everyone thought he would do great things, reach high places.” She sighed and smirked. “He never thought he was Icarus. Never had his friend warn him about the dangers of flying too high.” 

Batman flinched at the accusation as the sound of police sirens grew louder. Gotham nudged Harvey with her shoe, tilting his head so that Bruce could see both sides of his face. That he could see his old friend…and the monster he became. 

“This didn’t have to happen, Batsy. And as long as you’re a good boy, it never will again. Don’t fight me, Batman. It never ends well,” Gotham murmured, stepping in front of him and cupping his jaw so she could tilt his head up and force him to look up at her. He stared at her silently, jaw clenching, but he didn’t pull back when she leaned down and pressed a cold, dry kiss to his lips. She smiled at him when he didn’t try to pull back. “There we go. That’s better. Take care, Batsy~!”

She vanished and Batman was once more alone, save for the thugs unconscious on the ground around him and Two-Face at his feet. He lowered his head, shoulders trembling for a moment before he straightened and turned away from Dent, grappling away from the scene of the crime. 

Alfred was waiting for him in the Cave, eyes deep and haunted. Bruce pulled off the cowl and threw it to the side, turning and collapsing against a wall, letting himself slide down until he was curled in on himself. The cave was silent, even the bats refused to make a sound. Then Alfred spoke up, voice soft and hoarse, in a way Bruce wasn’t certain he’d ever heard before.

“My daughter…Julia. She-she came to visit me. I’d been…I’d had to cut off contact with the people I knew. Gotham had made herself quite clear with her threats. She wouldn’t hurt me. Not in any way that would last. Bruises, bullets, poisons, they were all fair game to her as long as it didn’t permanently end me. But I…I got reckless because of it. I thought I was invulnerable. Because- I could handle those things.” He huffed a bitter laugh, staring down at his pseudo son’s figure. “I was such an oblivious, ignorant fool.”

Bruce looked up, eyes watching Alfred carefully as the butler wiped absently at the furniture closest to him. 

“Julia was…she was worried about me. Always such a good daughter. Loyal, kind, and sweet. I was so happy that she’d come to visit me. Especially after how her mother cursed me out for refusing to leave Gotham. I couldn’t explain to her that it wasn’t that I did not want to leave the city, but that I physically couldn’t. Our divorce was…messy and cold. And I never blamed her. Truthfully I was glad that she took Julia with her, leaving this mess of a city,” Alfred murmured. 

Alfred paused in his cleaning, setting down his wash rag to pull out his pocket watch, opening it up and staring at the inside of it for a moment in silence. Bruce watched him carefully, noting the way Alfred’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed slightly. The expression was soft and bitter as he took another deep breath and snapped the watch shut, pocketing it again. 

“She came to visit. And at first, things were fine. Your parents were overjoyed to get to know her. They doted on her like she was their own daughter. You would’ve been about…four or five months old at the time. Julia adored you. She spent as much time as your parents would allow holding you or playing with you. It was wonderful. A perfect week-long visit.” The butler trailed off, staring vacantly at the ground. 

“And then?” Bruce whispered, voice echoing through the cave. Alfred shut his eyes as he spoke, as though seeing the memories replay on the back of his eyelids. 

“She never left Gotham. Didn’t make it out of the city’s borders. Julia was hit by another car while trying to leave the city. She…she survived. She survived the impact and the following trip to the hospital…but she was declared comatose a few hours later. After three months of waiting, of going to the hospital everyday in the hopes that she’d open her eyes…the doctors ran more tests.” Alfred took a wet, shaky breath as he desperately contained a sob. “Julia was proclaimed brain dead. The choice…the choice was left up to me. Whether or not to remove her from life support.”

Bruce’s eyes widened in horror and sympathy as tears welled in Alfred’s eyes. However, rather than let them fall, the butler lifted his handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. 

“Gotham was there, when it happened. I could feel her hands on my shoulders, hear her voice in my ears, while I deactivated the machines keeping my beloved daughter’s body alive. She was telling me how strong I was being. How this all could’ve been avoided and that I was being forced to kill my own daughter because of my own arrogance and ignorance. I learned rather quickly after that, Master Bruce, that Gotham will never do anything to permanently harm me physically. But emotional? Mental injuries? She takes joy in breaking her toys, slowly twisting them until they snap. And everyone around us is fair game for her to torture and destroy. Especially because she knows that what hurts us most is our helplessness.”

Bruce flinched at the reminder and stared at the floor in silence, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. He knew that Gotham was trying to condition him. Trying to train obedience into him, no matter how much he hated it. 

But…

If disobedience puts everyone in the city in danger, then is it truly worth it?

Because it wasn’t just one person that got hurt in Gotham’s rage. Harvey was just the individual that Bruce was closest with, making his transformation personal. But Two-Face had hurt hundreds and racked up kills as he went. Even with Alfred’s daughter Julia, there was also the other driver to consider that could’ve been hurt. Or bystanders, whether on foot or in another vehicle that were caught up in the crash. 

Alfred gave Bruce a bitter smile. “Obedience is easy, and it’s safe. I won’t tell you one way or another, Master Bruce, how you should deal with her…but she sees everything that happens in this city. If you try to make contingencies against her, then you’ll have to do so outside of Gotham. And considering you’re one of her Aspects…that you’re her Prince…”

Bruce shuddered at the reminder of the title. He swallowed thickly, turning his attention to the ground at his feet. 

Right. Her ‘Prince’.

Of all the titles he had, that was the title he was most concerned about. The Abstract Aspects were easier to handle because they were abstract. He could bend, twist, or excuse his actions as long as they made sense in the context of whichever Aspect he wished to claim. The ‘Dark Knight’ title simply implied subservience, obedience, and loyalty. A knight bowed before the queen, after all. 

But a Prince.

Bruce’s mind shuddered at the implications behind the title. There were really only two main routes that the title could take…and neither were ones Bruce wanted to dwell on for any length of time. 

“I’ll think about it, Alfred.” The butler nodded crisply and returned to the main manor, likely to prepare breakfast or a late-night snack for Bruce. While Bruce…Bruce slumped in on himself, wrapping his arms tight around his knees like he was a child. He shut his eyes and took long, slow breaths, brain desperately rushing over possibilities and contingencies. He opened his eyes and glared into the darkness of the cave, lips pulling into a sharp frown. He pushed himself to his feet and stalked towards the Computer, fingers rapidly clicking over the keys as he glared and planned. 

Fine. I’ll be the obedient pet for now. Once I know how to seal her or get rid of her, then all bets are off. After all, can’t a Dark Knight also be referring to a Knight that’s gone rogue?

Chapter Text

“You don’t belong here,” Gotham hummed thoughtfully, watching the small glowing figure in front of her. He grinned, teeth abnormally large and sharp as he bounced from foot to foot. 

“And what are you going to do about it? Kill me?”

Gotham studied the spirit before her, frowning slightly. Typically she didn’t tolerate spirits that tried to dwell within her. Mostly because the ones that did typically either tried to destroy her or ‘fix’ her. Neither of which were things that she wanted to deal with. But this one…

There was something about him that had…potential. Like going to take a sip of tea and catching a hint of bitter almonds underneath the floral notes. Or walking into an old house and hearing a change in the floor beneath you when you cross over a trapdoor, hidden by a thick woven rug. 

Certainly the little creature was…bright. His very aura screamed with playfulness and a joking nature, but not like her Clown prince did. No, Joker was far more…menacing. His jokes always had a feeling of underlying threat tied into them. On the other hand, this child almost emanated an easy going nature. Were it not for the fangs and narrowed eyes, perhaps she’d even believe it. 

“I could kill you. Would you prefer that?” Gotham asked inquisitively. The other spirit flinched, narrowing his eyes further at her. Features sharpened beyond what was human, his face losing some of the baby fat in favor of uncannily sharp and narrow features. His ears poked out of his hair, long and pointed while his fingers lengthened just slightly beyond that of normal human proportions. 

“I’d like to see you try,” he hissed. Gotham studied the little creature curiously. He wasn’t a spirit, no, he was far too physical for that. But he certainly wasn’t human either. 

“You’re Fae?” she asked curiously. 

“What’s it to you?” he giggled, bouncing from foot to foot again. Gotham hummed thoughtfully at the non-answer. Fae certainly weren’t common in Gotham. Too much iron, too much pollution, too little natural sources of power. Although…this one was certainly something special. Perhaps he would last. 

Gotham turned her attention to the circus that had set up in Gotham below. They’d only been there for a few days, and Gotham would admit that she’d noticed the unusual presence, but upon checking in, she’d found the creature was adopted as the child of two of the acrobats. And, initially, she hadn’t been planning on paying any additional attention to the possible Changeling. 

However…

Gotham’s eyes flicked back to where the creature’s adoptive parents were being covered by Gotham police. She probably should’ve been paying more attention to whether or not Haly had paid the protection fees. 

“What now?” the Fae asked, eyeing her warily. Gotham studied him for a minute longer before a brilliant idea popped into her mind and her eyes lit up with a brilliant green glow. She studied the child for a few moments longer. 

“Well…one of my Aspects has been…under the weather, shall we say. And I think, a little performer like yourself could make him a bit happier, what do you think?” The child stared at her suspiciously. 

“And you would not try to hurt me while I assist your Aspect?” He questioned. Gotham grinned sharply, baring broken teeth at the Fae child. 

“As long as you make him happy, you will be safe in Gotham. Now…do we have a Deal?” She extended her hand to him. He studied her for a moment longer before sighing, glancing back down at his adoptive parents. His face grew pained before he shook his head, anger burning in his eyes. 

“I want to be able to get revenge for my parents,” he stated. Gotham threw back her head and laughed. She grinned at the child, smoke flaring around her in a silent threat. 

“You have no power in these negotiations.” He shrank back under her reminder, but her smile softened just slightly as she continued speaking. “But, lucky for you, Tony Zucco isn’t one of my favored. Which means as long as you don’t get caught, you can do whatever you want to him.”

The child grinned sharply, face rounding back out with youthful innocence as he reached out and accepted her hand. “Then I believe we have a Deal.”

Gotham reached forward, smoke a fog cloaking around the small boy and yanking him away from the circus as she rushed through the expanse of the city. She could feel the way his small signature flared and recoiled nervously at the sudden transportation. She chuckled and dropped him on Wayne Manor’s doorstep, manifesting from the shadows beside him. He shivered and wrapped his cape around himself, glaring at her from removing him from the somewhat warm environment of the circus. She snickered and reached forward, ringing the doorbell. 

There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open and Alfred’s face immediately grew bitter at the sight of her, glaring blatantly at her. Then there was a flicker of fabric and Alfred paused, turning wide, shocked eyes onto the child beside her. The Changeling gave a weak smile and waved up at the other man. 

“Well, my Gentleman, aren’t you going to let us in?” Gotham purred, stepping closer. Alfred’s sharp eyes snapped to her and he glared, before sighing and opening the door, allowing them inside. 

“Do you wish to speak to Master Bruce, My Lady?” Alfred asked, face melting into an expression of perfect, placid neutrality. Gotham grinned. 

“Yes, I very much think that both of you should be present for this conversation. And perhaps get something for our little friend here to eat? Or drink, if that’s what you prefer, but I imagine he’s famished,” she purred. Alfred nodded crisply and directed them to a nearby parlor. Once Gotham and the child were settled on the wing back, Alfred quickly excused himself to go find Bruce and get refreshments for them. 

Gotham turned her attention to the small child sitting next to her on the couch, swinging his legs carefreely. She tilted her head before speaking. 

“I don’t think I ever caught your Name?” His bright, too bright, eyes flicked to her and a smile lit up his face, though it was underlined with the slight flash of fangs as he spoke. 

“No, you didn’t.” Gotham chuckled, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair. He flinched away from her touch, eyeing her suspiciously. 

“Then what should I call you? I’ll have to introduce you to my Aspect, after all,” she said with a grin. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Wasn’t that old man your Aspect? He felt like one after all,” the child commented. Gotham’s grin widened and she casually carded her fingers through his fluffy black hair, ignoring the way it made him flinch and glare at her. 

“Indeed, Alfred is one of my Aspects. But he is not the one I want you to look after. That is the man he’s gone off to fetch for us. Now. I do need a name to introduce you by, so what would you like to be called?” Gotham asked. “Be aware that if you don’t answer I will simply give you a name of my own choosing.”

The boy pouted for a moment before sighing and giving an answer. “Officially I’m Richard Grayson, son of Mary and John Grayson.” 

“Ah…those are the two who fell tonight then? I think I remember something being hyped about the ‘Flying Graysons’, was that supposed to be your parents?” The boy bristled and shot a sharp glare at her. 

“The Flying Graysons was a trio act. I participated as a member of the group,” he snapped. Gotham raised an eyebrow. 

“And no one saw an issue with that?” Richard grinned sharply at her, teeth flashing in the light. 

“If they did, then they certainly didn’t remember to report it,” he snickered. “They tended to…get distracted by other things.” Gotham grinned and nodded at Richard. 

“Fair enough,” she snickered. There was a knock on the door and then it opened, allowing Alfred back into the room, carrying a small tray of sliced fruit along with a single mug of hot chocolate. Behind him, a pale man followed after, shadows heavy beneath his eyes. Bruce stared at Richard in shock, eyes going from angry and resigned to stunned and worried in the blink of an eye. He shot Gotham a glare, and she smirked, gesturing to the couch opposite her and Richard. Bruce sighed but obediently moved forward and sat down, shooting a questioning look at the child beside her. 

“Gotham…who is this?” Bruce asked, barely even bothering to glance at Gotham. She huffed and raised an eyebrow. 

“You could at least say hello or ask how I’m doing, Bruce, I know you were raised with better manners than this!” Bruce shot her a glare and Gotham raised an eyebrow in response, smile fading slightly. Bruce sighed and glared at her for a moment before suddenly he went lax, practically melting into the couch behind him as a wide, drunken grin spread across his face. 

“Gotham! It’s so wonderful to see you again, how long has it been? I want to say I haven’t seen you since the Harvey incident, but I think we both know that’s a lie. Still, it’s been a while, what have you been getting up to?” Bruce, no. Brucie slurred, swaying slightly as though he’d actually had something to drink. Gotham rolled her eyes and huffed a slight laugh. 

“No need to use Brucie against me. Still, it’s nice of you to ask, Bruce. You see, I paid a visit to the circus and unfortunately it seems that there was an attack. And poor Richard’s parents were brutally murdered right in front of him. And it was just, you know, so familiar that I just had to bring him to you, Bruce. You’ll take care of him, won’t you?” Gotham asked, putting on a high society mask and reaching out to pat at Richard’s hair like he was nothing more than a pet every few moments, practically reaching out to pull him into her embrace when she finally explained what had happened to the Graysons. Bruce flinched at the reminder of his parent’s deaths, eyes flicking sharply to Richard. Her eyes were sharp though, on the last question, making it perfectly clear that it wasn’t a question. Bruce stiffened but sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I- yeah…yeah, I can look after him. What’s your name, chum?” he asked, turning his attention to Richard. The boy opened his mouth to speak and answer Bruce, only for Gotham to sharply pinch his arm. He shot her a glare but she simply smiled at Bruce. 

“May I introduce to you Richard Grayson, of the Flying Graysons from Haly’s Circus!” Bruce straightened slightly, likely recognizing the names and nodding slightly. 

“I see…well how about this, chum? Alfred can take you up to one of the rooms and you can get to sleep for tonight. Then tomorrow we’ll see about stopping by the circus to pick up any of your belongings,” he reassured. Richard raised an eyebrow at him before nodding. He smoothly slipped out from beneath Gotham’s arm, hurrying over to stand by Alfred. 

“Well then, come along, young sir. I believe Master Bruce and the Lady will be talking for a fair bit longer. Let’s see about getting you to bed and some clothes to change into,” Alfred stated, opening the door for Richard. The boy smiled brightly up at him, cape flicking behind him as he nodded. 

“Thank you, sir!” he said, slipping into the hall without a second glance back. Gotham raised an eyebrow and snorted once the door was closed. 

“He’s going to be a handful, I can already tell.”

“What’s this really about, Gotham?” Bruce asked, turning bitter, angry eyes on her. Gotham’s smile faded when she took in her Prince. He’d lost weight and he was covered in bruises, as though he was disregarding his own health in response to everything Gotham had put him through. 

“Can’t I do something nice for my Aspect?” Bruce stared her down with a deadpan expression. Gotham stared back silently for a moment before sighing. “Bruce…I didn’t want- you’ve become careless. Sooner or later you’re going to get hurt in a way that you won’t recover from, especially if you continue in the way you have been-”

“And whose fault is that?” Bruce barked out. Gotham sighed, rubbing between her brows in irritation. 

“I get it, Bruce, you’re not happy with your place in our arrangement. But whether you like it or not, I won’t allow you to kill yourself. So. Consider this an intervention. You now have a child to look after, a child who has already lost one set of parents. Imagine how he would react if his new adoptive father died? You wouldn’t be that cruel, Bruce. So pull yourself together already.” Bruce shot a glare at Gotham, but she simply rolled her eyes and vanished in a cloud of smoke. 

Bruce stared at where she’d been for a moment longer before burying his face in his hands. He tugged, frustrated, at his hair relaxing slightly at the sting of pain emanating from his scalp. It seemed like only a blink of an eye and then there were thin, gentle hands carefully extracting Bruce’s hair from his hands. Bruce looked up, exhausted, meeting Alfred’s worried gaze. Bruce swallowed thickly before opening his mouth to speak. 

“How…how is he?” Alfred hummed thoughtfully, eyes flicking back towards the hall as though expecting the boy to be trailing after him. 

“Surprisingly well, considering his parents…well. It’s all over the news. Apparently Gotham has also pulled some strings so that all of Gotham is aware of your new ward.” Bruce stiffened. 

“What??”

“According to eyewitness reports, Bruce Wayne rushed down to the child and offered to take him in on the spot. The public are absolutely enthralled by the story. One tragic orphan being so carried away by the moment that he immediately reached out to take in another orphan. I’ve no doubt Miss Vale is already writing a story for tomorrow morning,” Alfred stated crisply. Bruce stared at him incredulously. 

“Alfred, I wasn’t anywhere near the circus tonight,” he protested. Alfred nodded. 

“Believe me, sir, I’m aware. Unfortunately I believe this is a manipulation on the Lady’s part to ensure you can’t simply put the boy into foster care or try to pass him off onto someone else. She is…determined that you take care of the boy.” Bruce groaned, slumping in his seat. 

“Alfred, I-I can’t take care of him. There’s-”

“Master Bruce, as much as I agree that you are unqualified, inexperienced, and unprepared to raise a child, I don’t believe Gotham is going to give you much choice in the matter. Both the city and the people.” Bruce sighed, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion. 

“I…what should I do, Alfred?” he asked. His butler and pseudo father stared at him for a moment before sighing.

“I would recommend you go to bed, and speak with the boy in the morning. Perhaps, after a few hours of sleep and a good meal, you will be more aware of the planning and consideration this situation requires. Regardless, I don’t believe you will be heading out as Batman for the rest of the evening, Master Bruce. And I certainly don’t believe you need an escort to your bedroom, so I will take my leave for the evening.” Alfred turned crisply on his heel and left, leaving Bruce in the room. With a soft groan, Bruce rose to his feet and made his way to his bedroom, slowly dragging himself there. He collapsed on the bed and sighed, eyes fluttering shut. 

Tomorrow. I’ll deal with this…tomorrow.

Bruce woke up, bleary eyed and feeling like he hadn’t actually managed to get any sleep the night before. He stumbled his way down to the kitchen, where Alfred easily handed him the newspaper and his cup of coffee. Bruce grunted his thanks and ignored the way Alfred rolled his eyes in response to Bruce’s reaction. 

Jokes on him, Alfred knew very well that Bruce wasn’t fully conscious before his first cup of coffee. 

He easily sipped at the hot beverage, glassy eyes flicking over the newspaper. A frown began to tug his face down as he slowly began to process the words written on the paper. 

Gotham Gazette Special: Brucie Wayne Adopts Newly Orphaned Grayson?

A soft giggle reached his ears and Bruce closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe before lowering the paper slowly. There, with a plate full of pancakes covered in syrup, sat a young boy at the kitchen island. He couldn’t have possibly been more than twelve years old, with fluffy black hair and bright, bright blue eyes. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” the boy snickered, eyes gleaming with mischief and delight. Bruce rubbed at his eyes and took a deep breath, fully setting the paper on the counter beside him. 

“Good morning…” The boy’s face fell slightly as Bruce realized he couldn’t remember the other’s name. Alfred set a plate of breakfast in front of Bruce with a scolding glance as he spoke up for the first time since Bruce had entered the kitchen. 

“Master Richard. Richard Grayson.” Bruce nodded and cradled his coffee mug in his hands. 

“Right. Right. Richard. Good morning, Richard.” The boy’s nose twitched slightly, face scrunching in disgust for a moment before a grin darted over his face. 

“I actually prefer to be called something else, you know?” he said, eyes gleaming. Bruce raised an eyebrow while Alfred puttered around the kitchen, easily cleaning up everything that had been used to make breakfast. 

“Is…is that so, chum? What do you want to be called?” Bruce asked, flicking a glance at Alfred. The older man ignored him easily, so Bruce refocused his attention on the child sitting in his kitchen. Richard took a massive bite of his syrup soaked pancakes and swallowed before grinning brightly at Bruce. 

“Dick!” he said cheerfully. Alfred stiffened for a moment and Bruce blinked, tilting his head. 

“I-I know I haven’t known you for long, Richard, but there’s no need to call me-” Richard broke down laughing, clutching his stomach as he looked up at Alfred and Bruce with a playful grin. 

“I’m not calling you anything, silly! It’s my nickname! My nickname is Dick!” The boy cackled through his explanation, rocking slightly on his seat. Bruce slumped slightly at the realization that he hadn’t upset the child enough to be insulted right from the get go. Then he mentally felt his heart sink at the realization that this boy would probably insist on being called Dick in front of the media as well, and they would have a field day with his name. 

The boy snickered and his chair tilted slightly too far. Bruce jolted when he realized the boy was going to fall, lunging forward to catch it and Dick, only for the boy to seamlessly flip himself upside down on the chair, performing a one-armed handstand as the chair delicately balanced on two legs. Then he shifted his weight and the chair rocked forward again, settling on all four legs. Dick easily lowered himself down and flipped right-side up again, leaning forward to take a big bite of his breakfast. Bruce slumped back into his own chair and sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

This child is going to give me gray hairs before I’m thirty, Bruce realized. Dick’s smile faded for a moment as he watched Bruce, eyes dimming slightly as he swung his legs absently. 

“So…what’s going to happen now?” he asked. Bruce turned his attention to Dick, who watched him warily. “Gotham…said you were going to take care of me now?”

Bruce stared at him, at those wide, brilliant eyes. There was a lot of suspicion and wariness in Dick’s gaze, but beneath that was fear and hurt. He’d been so bright and giggly that Bruce had nearly forgotten that Dick’s parents had died only the night before. And it crushed him like a punch from Bane to realize that Dick was putting on an act for him. That Dick didn’t feel safe enough around Bruce to be honest and act like himself. To rage and cry like children should. Bruce shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

I am a stranger to him. It’s not surprising he doesn’t trust me, especially with the passive aggressive situation between Gotham and I right now. I can’t…

He looked up at Dick again and for a moment, it was like seeing a vision of himself from years ago overlapping with the boy. Anger burned at the core, hot and molten, covered beneath a facade to make those around him ignore it. Then he blinked and it was all Dick that he could see, young and alone.

I can’t abandon him. Even if that means…taking a break from Batman. 

“You’re staying. Officially…you’re my son now, Dick. Though, I’ll leave it up to you if you want to keep your last name, take mine, or use some hyphenation of the two. But either way…welcome home? S-son?” Bruce stumbled over the final welcome, awkwardly forcing his face into a hesitant smile. Dick relaxed slightly, still watching Bruce carefully before nodding sharply. 

“Alright then. Glad to meet you, Mr. Wayne!” Bruce sighed. 

“Just-just call me Bruce.” Dick nodded, grinning mischievously.

“Okay B!”

The first week was a whirlwind after accepting Dick into his home. First there were all the press conferences that the Gothamites just had to have to welcome the new Wayne to the city, though Dick did end up choosing to keep his old last name rather than officially change to Wayne, and of course, Bruce had to throw a gala to welcome his new son into the family. 

Dick had been supremely unimpressed by the whole event. 

Something something, fancy rich people doing pointless fancy rich things? Bruce could admit he hadn’t entirely paid attention to what Dick had been saying, which was probably a bad sign as far as being a good dad went. Although everything he found online said it was normal.

Things only started to go downhill in the second week. Specifically, nine days after Dick had been dropped off at his house, Bruce had finally decided to go out as Batman for the night. He’d been monitoring things remotely and solving cases after Dick went to bed before then, but people were starting to notice that the Bat was absent. Starting to notice that he wasn’t there anymore. It made them grow confident. Cocky. 

And Bruce couldn’t have that. 

So he once more put on the Batman suit and charged out into the night, darting across rooftops and grappling between buildings. Everything was going well. He stopped seven muggings, gained intel on three different deals going down at the docks, and even managed to put Riddler back in Arkham before two in the morning. Everything was going so well.

Which meant of course something had to go wrong.

“Sir, I’ve checked on the Young Master, and it seems he is no longer in his room.”

Alfred’s voice was calm and unhurried, as though nothing were wrong and Dick wasn’t missing from his bedroom. Bruce sighed.

“Check the chandeliers in the ballrooms, he’s been climbing on them more and more frequently as of late,” Batman growled softly. His eyes flicked over the streets beneath him, scanning for any crime being committed, when Alfred’s voice came over the comms again. 

“That’s just it, sir. I’ve already checked the whole Manor. And subsequently checked the security cameras. It seems that at eleven thirty seven, Young Master Richard snuck out of the Manor entirely. He appeared to be heading towards central Gotham, but that is a long way from Bristol, especially on foot.” 

Batman nearly missed his next landing, wavering on the edge of the building before whipping around to spot the clock tower. His shoulders sank as he caught sight of the time. “He’s been missing for nearly THREE hours?!?”

“It would appear so, sir. If you would be so kind, I would appreciate it if you located him and returned him to the Manor. We wouldn’t want for him to get hurt out there, after all.” 

Batman cursed his luck before turning and hurrying towards his car, hidden underneath piles of garbage in an alley. He quickly got in, leaning forward and sighing loudly before speaking. 

“Gotham, I need to speak with you.” To his mild surprise (and increasing frustration) there wasn’t so much as a breeze or scent change to signify that Gotham had appeared. Bruce gritted his teeth as he started the car. 

“Try addressing her as Lady Gotham. Perhaps she’ll respond better if you’re polite.”

Bruce grunted in reply to Alfred’s suggestion before speaking again. “Lady Gotham I need to speak to you.”

A chuckle echoed from the passenger seat and Bruce grimaced as a cloud of cigarette smoke was blown in his face. “Brucie…not like you to reach out to me first. And when I was having such a good evening, because you missed three drug imports while you were busy with little Richard. You know, if that’s all it takes to get me my fix, I should throw kids at you more often,” Gotham purred. 

Despite her words, a quick glance over showed that she seemed perfectly coherent and aware of what was going on around her. There were bruises on her arms indicative of injections, but her eyes weren’t dilated or bloodshot and her speech wasn’t slurred even slightly. 

“He’s missing, and I need you to tell me where he is,” Bruce ground out. Gotham raised an eyebrow. 

“Who’s missing, Bruce, you’ll need to be more specific.” Bruce gritted his teeth and turned out onto the street, scanning the alleys as he passed. 

“Richard. Richard is missing and was last seen heading towards Central Gotham. So where is he?” Gotham stared at him for a minute before throwing her head back and laughing. 

“Well, the little brat really did have it in him? I didn’t think he’d follow through,” she snickered. “He’s probably looking for Tony Zucco, and you’ll find him on Eighth and Mod, alleyway behind the cafe your mother liked.”

With a roar of the engine, Bruce took off, speeding down the streets towards where Gotham had claimed Dick was. She laughed and even raised her hands above her head as they sped through the streets. When he finally stopped the car and leapt out, Gotham waved goodbye before vanishing into thin air again. 

“Where is he?!?” There was the sound of a thud and a weak groan, drawing Batman’s attention as he approached the alley. To his surprise, Dick was standing on top of a random thug, glaring down at the man and stomping down on the man’s ribs. 

“I don’t-I don’t know! I don’t work for Zucco!” the man cried out. Dick glared down at him furiously. 

“You’re LYING and we both know it, so tell me the truth!” Dick moved to kick the man again, but instead found himself yanked into the air. With a furious snarl he contorted, twisting until he could face his new opponent, only to freeze at the sight of the figure holding him. Black armor melted seamlessly into an unmoving cloak. Dick’s eyes trailed up, noting absently that the only flesh he could see on this man was his jaw and chin. Empty, white eyes stared down at him while two pointed ears rose above the man’s head like demon horns. 

Batman.

“Oh thank fuck, Batman, the kid is insane. He dropped from a third story building knee first and-and I think he broke my ribs, fuck!” The thug sobbed with relief at the sight of Batman, a rather unusual reaction to the Dark Knight’s appearance. Dick shot the thug a sharp glare with a flash of sharp teeth, earning a flinch from the other, but Batman shook him like he was a naughty, scruffed kitten put in air jail. He let out an indignant squawk but quieted when Batman shot him a glare. 

“An ambulance has already been called. They’ll be here in about two to three minutes. In the meantime, I need to get this troublemaker back where he belongs.” Batman turned on his heel, leaving a weeping, overjoyed thug behind, as he opened the passenger door to his car and tossed Dick inside. He shut the door harshly and easily moved to the driver's seat, sliding in and locking the doors behind him. 

“You can’t keep me in here!” Dick growled, yanking at the door handle. “This is kidnapping! KIDNAPPING! HELP! I’M BEING ABDUCTED!”

“You’re being taken home is what’s happening,” Bruce growled in annoyance as he turned the car towards Bristol. “Your father reached out to Commissioner Gordon when he realized you were missing and had left the estate. You’re lucky I overheard the call or else you might be spending the night in a detention cell instead of my car.” 

Dick rolled his eyes, glaring at Batman. “Please, as if I’d get caught that easily. And besides, aren’t you supposed to encourage locking up criminals? Shouldn’t you hand me to the Commissioner yourself?”

Batman didn’t even bother to glance at Dick as he raised an eyebrow under the cowl. “Are you asking me to take you to the police as the perpetrator of an act of violence?”

Dick pouted and glared out the window, watching the city fly past them. The gates of Wayne Manor easily opened to let the two drive all the way up to the front door, where Alfred was standing just outside, looking supremely unimpressed with Dick. The boy shrank slightly in on himself under the look before straightening his shoulders and glaring back unapologetically. Alfred sighed and turned his attention to Bruce. 

“Thank you for bringing the young master home, Mister Batman. Do take care returning to wherever you came from this evening,” Alfred said. Bruce rolled his eyes behind the cowl at Alfred’s unsubtle message. 

Night over. Go home. Now.

Instead of responding however, he simply nodded and turned, sharply returning to his car and driving off towards the nearest entrance back to the Cave. Once in the Cave he quickly discarded his uniform and slipped into a soft, fluffy robe with slippers that had been left out, most likely by Alfred, and he came back out. 

“Dick! Dick?” he called out to the empty rooms as he passed, sticking his head in individually and looking around. 

“Master Bruce,” Alfred called. Bruce whirled, turning to face his butler and easily donning a worried expression. 

“Have you found him yet Alfred? I checked the ballrooms, but he wasn’t there and- Dick!” He darted forward and carefully, awkwardly patted the boy down, checking for bruises or injuries. “You’re okay? Where were you? Where did you find him?”

“I didn’t, sir. It seems that young Master Richard saw fit to leave the manor in the middle of the night. The Batman brought him back,” Alfred said smoothly. Bruce stiffened and let his eyes go wide as he turned to look at Dick in shock. 

“You left the manor at night?? And had a run in with that creep of a vigilante???” he asked, horrified. Alfred’s deadpan stare suggested he might be laying it on a bit thick, but Bruce ignored it in favor of looking at Dick, who glared at the floor. “Are you hurt? Dick? Please talk to me, chum.”

Dick swatted Bruce’s hands away and huffed. “I’m fine. There’s not much out there that could really hurt me anyways.” 

Bruce sighed and frowned down at Dick, gently releasing the boy and stepping back slowly. 

“Dick, chum, I know it can feel that way sometimes, like nothing bad could ever happen to you, but it can happen in the blink of an eye. I don’t-I can’t lose you. Not so soon after I got you. Do you understand?” Dick shuffled awkwardly in front of Bruce before sighing. 

“Okay…I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne.” 

“Bruce, chum. There’s no need to call me Mr. Wayne.” Dick shot Bruce a suspicious look. 

“And you don’t want me to call you Dad?” he asked carefully. Bruce’s eyes widened and he shook his head sadly. 

“No. No, Dick. Your dad…your dad was John Grayson and I can’t-I’m not him. I can’t replace him and I won’t try. Okay? You can call me whatever you want as long as it makes you comfortable,” he murmured softly. Dick eyed him suspiciously for a moment before nodding shortly. 

“Alright.” Bruce relaxed. Dick glanced at him and threw him a small smile before slipping further down the hall. “Well~ sounds like I need to get to bed, it’s been a long night. So…goodnight Bruce!”

Bruce sighed once the child had darted around the corner, staring after him before his eyes flicked to Alfred. 

“He’s not going to stop sneaking out, is he?”

“Absolutely not.”

Bruce hung his head. 

“Great.”

Sure enough, Dick continued to slip out of the house, though neither Bruce nor Alfred could figure out how he was doing it. As far as they could tell he seemingly just vanished from the manor, with none of the window sensors activating, the security cameras never caught sight of him, and his door never opened after Alfred started escorting Dick to his bedroom when Alfred and Bruce decided it was bedtime. 

Bruce had even checked the Batcave security cameras to make sure that Dick hadn’t found the cave and managed to sneak out through there. Unsurprisingly, the boy had not in fact found another entrance to the cave to sneak out through. 

“How is he doing this, Alfred??? There’s no way! It’s physically impossible! I have seven cameras pointed directly at his window from completely separate angles and a motion sensor on his window that triggers an alarm if he tries to sneak out that way! There are three motion sensors in the hall that his room is in, along with at least one hidden camera watching his door. There aren’t any other exits to his room yet he still somehow keeps sneaking out?? This is the fifth time I’ve caught him as Batman and it’s frankly getting ridiculous,” Bruce growled in annoyance, using an obscene amount of self-control to restrain himself from bashing his head against a wall. Alfred sighed and shook his head. 

“I will admit, sir, I am not entirely sure myself. Perhaps we should ask Lady Gotham for her thoughts on the matter?” Alfred suggested with a slight, bitter twist to his lips when he finished speaking. Bruce hesitated, considering the idea before sighing and shaking his head. 

“I don’t want to test her right now. Besides, it’s one child. I should be able to figure this out,” Bruce growled. Alfred raised an eyebrow and shrugged, accepting the answer before turning toward the computer. 

“Then perhaps you should get out there as it seems he’s already hit the streets again.” 

Bruce’s groan echoed through the cave as he suited up and slipped into his car, easily speeding out of the cave and darting towards wherever Dick had last been spotted. His car rolled to a stop next to the child, standing over some random thug with his fist raised. Catching sight of Batman when he rolled the window down slowly, Dick huffed in frustration and let go of the thug, turning to face Batman completely. 

“Oh come on! I haven’t even really hit him yet!” he groaned, rolling his eyes as Batman glared at him. 

“Liar! You swung at me with a pipe! I’m seeing double!” The thug beneath him cried. Sure enough, there was a discarded metal pipe nearby, with a noticeable dent along the length. When Batman turned disapproving eyes on Dick, the boy huffed and glared at Batman, pouting slightly. 

“I didn’t hit him that hard! I wanted him awake after all, didn’t I? I just hit him hard enough to get him on the ground,” Dick protested. The thug gave Dick an incredulous stare before glancing back at the pipe. 

“There’s an imprint of the back of my head in the metal!” he whimpered. Dick scoffed. 

“It’s lead, of course there’s an imprint. It’s a very soft metal!” he dismissed. The thug whimpered and turned pleading eyes on Batman, begging the phantom vigilante to save him from the murderous child. Batman turned his glare on Dick, who glared back and crossed his arms over his chest. Batman sighed. 

“Get in the car. NOW.” Dick raised his chin in defiance, glaring back at Batman. 

“And if I don’t?” Batman opened his own door, as if he was about to step out, only for Dick to huff and move towards the passenger side of the car. “FINE! Fine, I’m getting in, don’t get your cape in a twist.”

Batman closed the door and watched the boy get into the car, waiting until Dick had buckled himself in before turning to look at the thug left on the ground. “An ambulance is already on the way. It’ll be about two minutes at most.”

“Thank you! Thank you,” the thug sobbed, swaying in place, despite the fact that he was still sitting on the ground and had only propped himself up with one arm. Batman rolled up the window again and sped off into the streets, steadfastly ignoring the child in the seat beside him as he sighed. The inside of the car was silent for a bit before Dick finally huffed and turned to look at Batman. 

“So…when are you finally going to tell me that you’re Bruce?” 

The car swerved sharply first to the right as Batman jolted and turned to look at Dick in shock before sharply yanking the nose of the car back to the left and restabilizing the car. Bruce could feel his heart rapidly pumping in his chest as he struggled to regain some composure. His hands squeezed tightly around the wheel as he managed to force himself to speak. “What.”

“Wow…dramatic much? We could’ve died there,” Dick huffed, rolling his eyes as though they hadn’t been seconds away from speeding off the edge of the bridge between Gotham Central and Bristol. Batman swallowed thickly before speaking. 

“You think I’m Bruce Wayne?” He asked. Dick shot him an annoyed glare, as though questioning Bruce’s intelligence. 

“I grew up as an actor, B. A performer. I know when someone is pretending to be someone else or putting on a mask. You have the same habits whether you’re Bruce or Batman. Same tells and tendencies.” Bruce was silent for a moment, opening his mouth to lie and dismiss Dick’s statement, only to choke on sweet smoke that brought a smile to his lips for a brief moment, huffing slightly to try and dispel the Joker toxin. 

Dammit Gotham.

He sighed. “How long have you known?” he asked. Dick swung his legs on the seat. 

“Since the first time you brought me home. Also, you shouldn’t call yourself a creep, B, it’s not very nice.” Bruce huffed and stared at the road ahead of him. He opened his mouth to speak

“Do you want to see the Cave?” He nearly jumped out of his seat at the voice coming from the backseat. A glance back showed Gotham lounging in the seat the same way she had the night his parents died. 

“Cave?” Dick asked curiously. Gotham grinned. 

“You know, the cave where Bruce keeps all his supplies? His ‘man cave’ where he roleplays as Batman?” Dick grinned brightly. 

“Can I?” he asked eagerly. Bruce opened his mouth to say no only for a delicate, gloved finger to tap against his shoulder. He sighed at the nonverbal command, turning the car and triggering the hidden entrance to the cave. He heard his comm beep as Alfred focused on the change of trajectory. 

“Sir, did you fail to locate the young Master?”

Bruce sighed. “There’s been a change of plans, Agent A. Gotham has made her opinion on this…particularly clear.” 

There was a hum over the comms before Alfred responded easily, always the steady rock in Bruce’s ever shifting world of horrors. 

“I’ll ensure preparations are made for your arrival.”

“Thank you, Agent A.” The comms shut off and Dick turned to stare at him. 

“Was that Alfred? Does he know you’re Batman?” he asked eagerly. Bruce sighed and ignored the questions as he continued to drive into the cave, easily parking the car and letting the lights turn on. Dick oohed and aahed appreciatively at the sight of a cave full of weapons and gear. Alfred stood next to the computer with a raised eyebrow. 

“Welcome back, sirs,” he commented. Dick bounced out of the car and eagerly began darting around the cave, glancing from item to item. 

“Wow…this place is incredible. Has it always been below the house? It has to be natural, right? Those stalactites look real- holy shit are those actual bats up there?? Also, why do you need a computer that big? It’s so big you can’t even see the whole thing if you’re standing right in front of it, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of having a computer?? Hey Alfred! Sorry, I wasn’t going to ask until after Batman brought things up himself, but I already knew who he was after our first meeting. Not- not the meeting where Gotham brought me here, but when I first met Batman. Is that a plane???” He shouted incredulously. Bruce sighed, reaching out and scruffing Dick with his hoodie, earning a pout from the boy. 

“You managed to piece together who I am through habits and tells?” Bruce asked rhetorically, watching the other carefully. Dick huffed and swung himself in Batman’s grip, managing to twist himself in half until he was hanging from Batman’s arm like a bat himself. He grinned at Bruce and hummed. 

“I mean, the fact that you were always conspicuously absent every time Batman would bring me back to the manor certainly didn’t help when I was already suspicious about you being Batman. After all, you would’ve needed time for a costume change to pretend that you weren’t the one who dropped me off. And continuing to yell around the house searching for me after we’d already established that I was sneaking out into the main city would’ve been incredibly stupid. In character perhaps, for Brucie Wayne, but not when you’re Bruce. And there’s a very noticeable difference between the two that I have a feeling most people don’t pick up on,” Dick replied cheerfully. Bruce sighed and Alfred raised an impressed eyebrow at Dick’s statement. 

“Is that so, young master?” Dick grinned at Alfred. 

“It is so, Mr. Butler!” Alfred huffed in response while Bruce sighed. 

“Okay…okay. That’s-that’s fine. I’ll need to work more on making sure people can’t put that together, but you were unfortunately more likely to figure things out than anyone else due to how much closer you are to me in a personal manner. But. I do need to know one thing from you.” Dick raised an eyebrow at the serious, demanding tone Bruce was using. 

“Yeeees?” he asked, watching Bruce carefully. Bruce pointed at him. 

“How on earth have you been getting out of your room without me seeing you?” he asked incredulously. “You used the window the first night, but we didn’t have anything particularly set up to ensure that you couldn’t sneak out, so it makes sense that we didn’t see it happen. But since then you’ve managed to get out four more times without getting spotted on the cameras once. How are you doing that??” Dick blinked blankly at Bruce for a moment before his mouth opened in a little oh of understanding. 

“Ah. Right. Well, after I figured out you were Batman, and since I’d already snuck out once before, I figured you would inevitably put some form of security outside my window or door. But, what I don’t think you knew about or thought I could use, is the little crawlspace above my room.” Alfred and Bruce both stared at Dick in shock as the boy shrugged. “Pretty sure it was meant to be used in case people needed to do maintenance work on something or maybe it was explicitly meant for hiding drugs or bodies, but either way it connects to the vents. And I am an acrobat, so I just…wiggled my way into the vents and worked my way out through there. I don’t think I’ve come out of the same exit twice, so you probably never saw me on the cameras around the house anyways.”

“I feel like at that point you’re less an acrobat and more a contortionist,” Bruce muttered. Dick shrugged carelessly. 

“Eh, tomato tomahto. Not much real difference between those two if I’m being honest. And honestly going through the vents is a lot of fun, if a bit claustrophobic,” Dick said cheerfully. Bruce stared at him for a moment before burying his face in his hands. Dick giggled at him from where he was still hanging upside down. Bruce carefully set the boy on the ground, ignoring the disappointed pout that Dick turned on him. 

“This does still beg the question of what you’re doing sneaking out either way, young Master Richard,” Alfred commented. “Why are you going out at night and harassing the local goon population?” 

Dick huffed at him, crossing his arms over his chest and kicking his legs against the stone floor beneath him, not even bothering to sit up. “What’s it matter to you?”

Alfred raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the small defiance. “You have cut Batman’s patrol short and he certainly won’t be able to focus on the tasks at hand without knowing where you are. I think you can imagine how detrimental that might be overall and of course how unhappy Lady Gotham would be about that?”

Dick twitched at the reminder of Gotham, eyes flicking back towards the car as though expecting her to be standing outside of it, leaning against the black vehicle. She wasn’t there, thankfully, and Bruce was fairly certain she’d disappeared after strong-arming him into bringing Dick to the cave. Still, he had no doubt she was watching from somewhere nearby. She always was after all. 

“I was looking for Tony Zucco,” Dick admitted. “Gotham said he’s the one responsible for killing my parents and I…”

“You want revenge,” Bruce whispered, watching Dick worriedly. For a single, flickering second when Dick shot to his feet and turned to snarl at Bruce, the older man could’ve sworn that Dick’s teeth were sharp.

“OF course I do!” he hissed. “I want him dead! And if I can’t have that, then I want him locked behind bars with no chance of getting out and hurting anyone else! Is that so wrong??”

Bruce stared at the boy for a moment, shoulders lowering slowly as Dick stood there, panting while tears began to well in his eyes. Dick gritted his jaw and brought his hands up to his face, wiping angrily at the liquid as it fell down his face. Bruce slowly crouched down, drawing Dick’s attention to him. Once he was certain that Dick’s bright bright blue eyes were looking at him, he slowly opened his arms in a silent offer of a hug. Dick stared at him suspiciously for a moment before exhaustion washed over his face and he finally lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce’s neck. 

Bruce hugged the boy tightly against himself, squeezing the small form slightly as he shook in Bruce’s arms. He sighed and stroked Dick’s hair gently. “Believe me Dick, I understand. I…I was in your shoes once. I saw them-I saw them die, right in front of me. But doing things in anger because of what happened only makes things worse, Dick. Look at me. I did this because I was angry, because it was easy to be angry. Because if I was angry, then I wasn’t…I wasn’t-”

“Sad?” Dick whispered. Bruce nodded slowly. 

“Because being sad hurts.” Dick looked down at the ground, eyes filling with tears slowly. Bruce took a shaky, shuddering breath and continued speaking. “And it never stops hurting. You just…get used to how much it hurts. I’m still- I’m still not finished hurting, I’m still not used to how much it hurts. But if I’m Batman then at least I can try to ensure no more people hurt the same way I hurt.”

“Batman didn’t save them,” Dick whispered. Bruce winced but nodded. 

“And I can’t. I’m only one person, Dick. I can’t save everyone no matter how hard I try. But as long as I keep trying then that will be even only a few more that don’t have to deal with that. As long as Batman is around, then it ensures that more people live safely, more children who don’t lose their loving parents. I am only one man and I do everything I can to make a difference,” Bruce stated. Dick looked up at him for a moment, studying him curiously for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“You are…alone. Alone and still helping,” he murmured to himself. Then his eyes hardened and Dick looked up at Bruce with determination in his eyes as he straightened his shoulders. “But you won’t be alone anymore. After all, two heads are better than one, right?”

Bruce blinked at Dick for a moment before turning his head slowly to look at Alfred with wide eyes. Alfred raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes and answering his son’s unspoken desperate request for help. 

“And what exactly do you mean by that, young Master Richard?” Alfred asked. Dick grinned, bouncing in place and humming delightedly. 

“I’ll be heading out with Batman! That way there’ll be two people working out on the streets to make things better!” Dick said cheerfully, his tears melting away under the bright warmth of his excitement. 

Bruce stared at his son for a moment before slowly burying his face in his hands, fighting back a groan of frustration. Dick snickered at his reaction, easily slipping away from Bruce to continue looking around through the cave. Alfred carefully kept track of where Dick was at any one point in time while carefully laying a hand on Bruce’s shoulder in silent support. Bruce looked up at his father figure with a slight smile before stiffening at the slight curl to Alfred’s lip. He sighed in annoyance. 

“Karma has a funny way of coming around, Master Bruce,” Alfred said with a slight lift in his tone as he watched the other man. Bruce groaned and forced himself back to his feet, easily picking out the small form looking through the armory. 

“Dick…you can’t come out with me, bud.” Dick snorted in response, picking up one of Bruce’s throwing stars easily and studying the unusual bat shape. 

“Frankly, you can’t stop me. At least, not without doing some pretty significant damage to the Manor. Also, what are these supposed to be? Boomerangs shaped like bats? Batarangs?” he snickered to himself and Bruce bit back the instinctual urge to sigh at the knowledge that his son would forevermore refer to his throwing stars as batarangs. Still, he forced himself to step forward and follow after Dick, easily taking the newly named batarang from the boy’s hand. 

“It’s not safe out there!” Bruce growled. Dick shrugged. 

“I’ve been doing just fine on my own during the nights I slipped out, and besides, wouldn’t I be safer with you than out on my own? The way I see it, you can’t stop me from going out and bringing me back to the Manor every time you find me is a waste of time and efforts better used on helping people. But if I were working with you, then I’d be close by at all times and you could make sure I wasn’t getting into too much danger because you’d be right there with me. So, your choice, not really, but I think it’s better if I go with you either way.” Dick flashed a grin at Bruce with what were definitely needle thin, sharp fangs. Bruce blinked and rubbed at his eyes, staring at the child and letting his head fall backwards so he could stare at the ceiling hopelessly. 

“Dick. You’re not going out as a vigilante at nine years old. Maybe when you’re older,” though Bruce internally intended on making sure that Dick went out as a vigilante never, “but not right now.”

Dick raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Bruce before grinning brightly, fangs gleaming in the faint light of the cave. Then he darted off towards the stairs leading up towards the Manor proper without another word. Bruce reached out to stop him, but Dick was gone in the blink of an eye, the only sign he’d been there at all being the giggle echoing back down to them. Bruce let out a frustrated groan and turned to Alfred. 

“...he’s definitely not entirely human, is he?” Bruce asked. Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce before turning and walking towards the stairs back to the manor. 

“You only just noticed, Master Bruce? Perhaps he’s right that you need a fresher set of eyes to assist you after all.” Bruce let his head thunk against the cave wall as Alfred disappeared up the stairs. Alfred huffed a chuckle as he moved up the stairs, pausing halfway up to turn and look at a small indent on the wall above him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the small figure tucked into the nook. “It’s bedtime, young Master Richard, and I would ask that you properly stay in your bed this time.”

Dick giggled as he dropped down onto the stairs, swaying slightly in place as he hummed a random tune. Then he grinned at Alfred.

“I’m surprised you spotted me. I was sure that you’d pass by without catching sight of me. And also, my name is Dick, not Richard. I’d really prefer if you called me Dick.” Alfred sighed and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, gently nudging him further up the stairs. 

“Yes, yes, young master. If it means so much to you, then I shall call you young Master Dick,” Alfred stated. Dick pouted at him, easily catching onto the fact that Alfred wasn’t going to tell Dick how he’d spotted him in the small nook. Alfred wasn’t about to tell the boy that he hadn’t actually seen him until he’d looked up, but rather had felt the eyes on him. 

He’d grown rather used to glancing up and finding Gotham watching him from unexpected perches. Alfred had honestly expected it to be Gotham that was watching him, but this was a frankly appreciated change in the pattern. 

“He can’t stop me, you know that right?” Alfred raised an eyebrow at Dick before turning his attention back to the path ahead of them as he opened the passage behind the broken grandfather clock. Dick darted around the office eagerly as he examined everything as if hoping to find more secrets his father was hiding. It was very reminiscent of a much younger Bruce darting around the room to distract Alfred before trying to slip down into the caves beneath the manor.

“Oh believe me, young Master Dick, I am well aware.”

Bruce refused to go out as Batman for the next week after Dick’s declaration. Dick just rolled his eyes when he realized what Bruce was doing, shooting an annoyed glance at him before huffing and darting somewhere deeper into the manor. 

This was also the week when Dick was apparently comfortable enough to start pranking Bruce. 

Though it was pretty much only Dick who called what he was doing ‘pranking’. 

Bruce called it harassment.

Alfred called it karma. 

After all, a child hurling himself at Bruce from one of the ballroom chandeliers screaming ‘geronimo’ was very reminiscent of when a much younger Bruce had jumped off a balcony to try and land in the pool. Thankfully (in both cases) the child ended up being caught before they could hurt themselves. Of course that wasn’t to say that it wasn’t a close call, but they still were caught by their respective guardians. 

Finally, after a week of Dick lunging at him from random corners or heights and laughing after Bruce nearly had a heart attack, of having bats released into his bedroom and landing on his face (Bruce still didn’t know how Dick had gotten them to do that, but he wasn’t impressed by it), and having Alfred simply turn a blind eye to the unmanageable child, Bruce finally went out into Gotham as Batman again. 

Of course that meant that something had to go wrong, specifically with Batman ending up surrounded by a group of thugs in clown makeup waiting for the chance to beat him up for the Joker. 

“Poor, poor, Batsy. Finally made into a damsel in distress but with no hero to come and save him. Oh! I suppose I could save you~!” Joker cackled, laughing in the face of the Dark Knight’s glare. Bruce opened his mouth to answer, only for a horribly familiar giggle to echo through the warehouse, cutting through the Joker’s manic laugh. The Rogue went silent, glaring around in confusion. Then there was the slight whirr of a grappling gun lowering someone down, causing Joker to spin in confusion, stiffening in confusion at the sight that met his eyes. 

“Are you SURE about that?” Dick asked, grinning sharply. He was hanging upside down from a grappling gun, dressed in bright yellow, green, and red. Specifically, he was wearing a bright yellow cape, bright red tunic with a green t-shirt underneath, green gloves, a domino mask, some type of scaly green panties that matched the gloves and undershirt, and a pair of bright green pixie boots. “Still so confident that there’s no knight in shining armor for the Bat?”

The Joker stared incredulously at Dick for a solid moment as he came to terms with the literal child hanging like a spider from the ceiling dressed as a traffic light claiming to be the hero of Batman. The Batman. 

The Batman in question felt the strong urge to face palm and curse, if it wouldn’t draw the goons full attention away from the disaster happening next to the Joker. Who had regained himself enough to sputter in confusion at Dick.

“Wh-what-”

Dick’s grin sharpened before he dropped and spun, whipping his body around to kick Joker straight in the face, in an incredible display of arm and core strength, with the aforementioned pixie boots. Dick retracted the grappling gun with a delighted cackle, vanishing into the darkness of the rafters for a moment before he landed on one of the beams, crouching and grinning down at the figures beneath him. 

“Who else wants some of this?” he cackled. 

“Who the fuck are you?!?” Joker spat, pointing a shaky figure up at the child still perched in the rafters and staring down at him. Dick grinned and leaned forward, flipping through the air and landing sharply on Joker knee first, driving the air out of the Rogue’s lungs (and possibly cracking his ribs) while Dick reached forward, hands grabbing the bright green hair of the Joker and holding his head in place while Dick got off three sharp punches before darting off, leaping at the thugs who shrieked in surprise. 

Batman moved, slamming into the thug nearest to him just before he could shoot at Dick. This did have the unfortunate side effect of the thug shooting his fellows when he pulled the trigger but wasn’t aiming at the kid anymore, taking down another three guys without Batman or Dick even having to deal with them personally. Meanwhile Dick was a blur of color and laughter, leaping between the shoulders of the Joker’s goons, dragging them to the ground in messy, unpracticed takedowns relying primarily on surprise and his own bodyweight. 

Small though he was, most grown adults didn’t expect a child dressed like a traffic light to leap onto their shoulders and wrap their legs around their heads while wearing scaly panties. Batman absently noted that several goons had scrapes on their faces, suggesting that the scales actually had a purpose other than being decorative. Either way, Dick’s method of attack was surprisingly effective.

Together the group was quickly nullified and placed in cuffs, with Joker still ranting and screeching in the background, furious that his victory over Batman had been ruined by a fucking fetus. Dick took offense to that, deciding to give the Joker a few (cough) essential hits to the groin. 

("He was moving Batman, he was going to escape! I didn’t do anything unnecessary and I certainly wouldn’t hit a criminal who’d already been restrained, what are you even saying??")

When Officer Gordon and the rest of the GCPD finally pulled up to the warehouse, the older man had to stop and stare pointedly at the small child standing next to Batman, barely reaching the Dark Knight’s hip and smiling brightly. Gordon took in the boy’s outfit before slowly dragging his head to Batman, giving him a very pointed look in a not so subtle demand for Batman to explain. Batman sighed, glancing to the side opposite of where Dick stood. 

“This was not my idea,” he grumbled. Gordon raised an eyebrow as Dick giggled delightedly beside Batman. The senior officer jolted when he realized that Dick had sharp teeth, before rallying himself and refocusing on Batman. 

“Batman, who is this?? Why do you have a child fighting alongside you? Why was he allowed to attack the Joker, despite the obvious risks involved? And why is he dressed like that???” Before Bruce could answer, it was Dick who spoke up.

“I’m Robin! Batman’s partner!” He placed his hands on his hips proudly, thrusting out his chest and grinning cheerfully. Gordon blinked at Robin for a moment before slowly turning his head to look at Batman, hand discretely inching towards his cuffs. 

“Partner? Batman, I can accept your help despite the vigilantism because you actually make a difference, but I draw the line at you being a child predator-”

“NOT like that!” Robin protested, face scrunching in disgust. “No, if he tried to touch me like that, I’d bite his dick off! No, I’m-I’m his PARTNER. Like, like how cops go out in pairs and have an assigned partner?”

Gordon eyed Robin’s sharp teeth and sighed in relief, slumping slightly and moving his hand away from where his cuffs rested, turning his attention back to Batman, who was giving him what could only be called a horrified stare. “Okay. So. Not romantic or sexual partners. Good. That’s-that’s good. But, it still begs the question of why a literal child was allowed to fight the Joker.”

“I didn’t ALLOW anything,” Batman protested. “In fact I put SEVERAL measures in place to ensure he COULDN’T follow me into Gotham.”

“They didn’t work well enough to stop me!” Robin chimed in cheerfully, bouncing in place. “Batman tried pretty much every trick in the book to try and make sure I couldn’t help him, but I just slipped into the Batcave and stuck myself to the bottom of the Batmobile.”

Gordon stared at the child for a moment, face eerily blank before turning his attention back to Batman who, in an unusual display of emotions, had his face buried in his hands. Gordon’s expression softened as he finally realized exactly what the relationship between Robin and Batman was, reaching out and placing his hand on Batman’s shoulder. The Dark Knight lifted his face from his hands, giving Gordon what he could only assume was a curious look. 

“Parenting is hard, isn’t it?” Gordon murmured, giving Batman a nod of solidarity. Batman’s shoulders slumped just enough to be noticeable and he pressed his face back into his hands. 

“Why does he ALWAYS try to find the things that give me the most heart attacks??” Gordon heard Batman mutter into his hands. Gordon chuckled and patted Batman on the shoulder before releasing his fellow father. 

“Hazard of children, I suppose,” he replied. “But, I suggest that you take the little one home for now. Otherwise he’ll be a nightmare to deal with in the morning.”

Robin wrinkled his nose at Gordon, huffing and crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t treat me like I’m a toddler! I can get up just fine in the morning, it’s HIM who has trouble waking up after long nights!”

Robin gestured at Batman, who glanced away noticeably. Then Batman sighed and turned to give Robin a look, one that any parent learned at one point or another. Honestly, it made Gordon want to laugh, seeing the Dark Knight directing the ‘do what I say or else’ look at his child. Except that rather than obediently go to his room, or the Batmobile, (and Gordon would ABSOLUTELY be laughing about that name later when Batman wasn’t right in front of him) Robin stiffened and glared back defiantly. 

“I’m not going back to the Batcave until you do. And you’re already a week behind on all your work because you INSISTED on trying to make sure I couldn’t join you. Well, too late for that, might as well make the most of the rest of the night.” Batman tilted his head forward just enough for Gordon to recognize it as an expression of defeat. He narrowed his eyes at the dark figure. 

“Batman…” 

“We need to go,” Batman said, tapping at his gauntlet. With a roar of engine and screech of tires the Batmobile pulled up next to the warehouse, with Batman and Robin both moving quickly to the vehicle. “See you soon, Officer.”

“Batman, take Robin home,” Gordon warned. As a parent himself, he knew that if Batman didn’t and let Robin stay out the rest of the night, Robin would only continue to come out and spend every night with Batman. After all, give a child an inch and they’d take a mile.

Batman grunted back at Gordon, shutting the door and closing himself off from the rest of the world. The window on the passenger side rolled down and Robin grinned at Gordon, face smug in a way that Gordon was only used to seeing on fucking cats. The boy waved at him cheerfully from the window.

“Bye Officer Gordon!” The Batmobile roared and raced off, speeding smoothly through narrow roads without so much as scratching another car. Gordon watched them go before sighing, shaking his head. 

“That kid’s got Batman wrapped around his finger. Poor Bats.”

Sure enough, there were reports of Batman and Robin getting ice cream of all things, three hours after Gordon had come to pick up Joker and his goons. Gordon just shook his head and sent out a mental prayer for the Dark Knight, easily recognizing a parent who had absolutely no clue what he was doing. 

I’ll give him one of my Parenting How To books the next time I see him.

“By the way, Dick,” Bruce pulled off his cowl now that they were finally back at the cave (the Batcave, as Dick called it, and Bruce just KNEW that sooner or later that would be what it was called on the streets and he was NOT looking forward to the embarrassment that would give him), “what are you wearing?”

Dick looked down at himself, tilting his head curiously at Batman. “My uniform? I mean, technically it’s the oldest design for the Flying Grayson costumes, and I figured it would work for this too. I just removed a few pieces to make sure no one would recognize it and put two and two together, maybe I’ll embroider an R for Robin on my chest later, but I think it suits me!”

Bruce held still, staring at his son incredulously, trying to calm his heart that was now apparently trying to either a) have a heart attack, or b) make Bruce fall over in a dead faint. 

Because. 

Dick had just told him.

That he was wearing an old acrobat uniform. 

And ignoring the potential danger of someone recognizing an old Flying Grayson costume and figuring out Robin’s identity, which was bad enough,

Dick had also

Just said

In far fewer words

That he had fought The Joker

And multiple goons with guns

In a completely unarmored uniform.

In nothing but nylon and a prayer.

Bruce turned and gave Alfred an are you hearing this look while Alfred went pale as a sheet, easily realizing the same thing as Bruce. And Bruce would forever hold this over Alfred’s head because sure, Alfred said it was some form of karma that Bruce’s son would also want to go out and fight crime at night like Bruce had told Alfred, but at least Bruce had the knowledge and awareness to wear a bulletproof suit. 

Unlike his own son, who was barely covered enough to be modest, let alone protected. 

“I’ll get started on figuring out the fabric,” Alfred stated, turning towards the computer. “You worry about convincing him to pick a different design.”

Dick bristled. “What’s wrong with my uniform??”

And Bruce?

Bruce just sighed and fought back the urge to cry. 

Where had his life gone so wrong?

Batman’s new partner became well known through Gotham through the next several years, spreading cheer and delight wherever he went. 

Well, mostly among the victims. 

Among the criminals he was a giggling demon that liked to perform impossible stunts to change his direction midair and attack criminals behind or around him. He used his grappling hook like a moveable, instant aerial line to do acrobatics from, often firing it mid combat so he could perform some seemingly impossible stunt and kick goons in the face. He was flippy and nimble and a fucking nightmare to fight against, with his tendency to laugh and contort around hits as though his body were made of some non Newtonian fluid. 

But it was impressive to watch and amusing to see, for everyone not directly involved in the fighting. 

So Gotham giggled to herself and let him stay. 

Especially since he had done what she’d initially ordered him to do. Although stressed and worried about Dick, Bruce was happier. He was brighter in a way she hadn’t seen since his parents died and it was all thanks to the bright little creature that she’d dropped on his doorstep. She cooed at the rumors that spread through her, little whispered winds and voices chatting about how much softer the Batman seemed, especially with the little birdie trailing after him. It made him seem less like a cruel, vengeful demon of the night and more…mother duck with her little duckling in bright yellow, green, and red following after her. People still talked about them like that even when Robin began to grow up more, becoming a teenager and still following after Batman like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. Like a peacock trying to tuck itself back under the wing of the hen that raised it. 

Gotham snickered at the imagery before her eyes lit up eagerly and she manifested in Bruce’s room. She studied the sleeping form of her Prince, gently brushing the hair from his face. The sun was only just beginning to rise and Bruce had only just gone to bed, like the little night owl that he was. Gotham carefully pulled down the blankets covering his body and purred to herself as she realized that he’d gone to bed in nothing but a robe. His chest was almost completely exposed, pecs beautifully framed in silk, and the hem was riding up on his thighs, just barely hiding his privates from her seeking gaze. 

Gotham carefully reached forward, hand manifesting physically to tease up the inside of her Prince’s thigh-

“What are you doing.”

The voice was hissed and dangerous, sharp and furious. It was the crack of a whip, cutting through the air like a knife. Gotham whipped her head up towards the doorway, pausing at the sight of Richard glaring at her. His human veneer was almost completely gone as he snarled at her with sharp fangs and eyes that glowed too bright to ever be mistaken as human. 

“Taking what is mine,” Gotham purred in response. “Can I not enjoy some time with my Prince?”

“He doesn’t consent,” Richard hissed, fingertips flickering as claws manifested for seconds at a time. Gotham tilted her head curiously at the boy. 

“How would you know?” Richard raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. 

“Why else would you wait until he was already asleep and unconscious?” Gotham smirked. 

“Perhaps we have a standing arrangement, did you ever consider that?” she hummed. Richard hissed at her sharply, eyes narrowing into thin glowing slits as the blue glow of his eyes spread across his sclera and replaced his human looking eyes with two completely blue blank orbs. 

“Then why does he flinch at every mention of you. Of Lady Gotham, not just the city. If you have a standing arrangement then why does this look like you were trying to take advantage of him while he was asleep?” Gotham rolled her eyes. 

“You’re young, inexperienced, and you have no idea what you’re talking about.” She moved to gently stroke Bruce’s flesh again, but suddenly there was a clawed hand wrapping around her wrist and yanking her off the bed. In response, Gotham dissipated and appeared behind Richard, tilting the creature’s head up even as her smoke wrapped around him and held him in place. “You dare lay your hands on me?”

“You dare lay your hands on him, so yeah. These hands are rated E for everyone. That includes rapist manifestations of a city,” Richard hissed venomously. He slipped through her arms and tried to roll away from her, but found himself choking on fear gas and cigarette smoke, heaving as he tried to get real air back into his lungs. He slumped down, body beginning to shake as the first symptoms of the fear gas kicked in quickly. With a snap of her fingers they vanished from the Manor, appearing instead over the Wayne Enterprise building. 

Richard let out a weak, terrified shriek as he realized there was nothing beneath his feet and he had nothing to help save him when Gotham lashed out, gripping Richard’s throat tightly in her hand. He choked, panicking for a new reason as his fingertips sharpened and desperately slashed at her hand. 

“It’s almost…funny, you know? I chose you for him. You were never meant to be permanent or important, you were simply meant to bring him out of his despair and depression. You were an actor, playing the part assigned to you by someone more powerful. And yet now you think you can fight me? Has he earned so much of your loyalty that you would strike the one who first brought him to you?” Gotham murmured, staring dangerously at Richard as he thrashed in her grip. 

“Let me…Go!” Richard spat, still slashing at her hand. Gotham with a casual expression, Gotham shrugged. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

With a flick of her hand Richard went flying backwards, eyes widening as he realized they were still in midair. Then he slammed into the covers of his bed, heart pounding in his chest as he scrambled back against the wall. Gotham studied him from the foot of the bed before leaning forward and gently sweeping Richard’s hair out of his face. He shot her a weak snarl at the action, but it was clearly just an act based on how he was still shivering dangerously from shock. 

“Do you understand now?” Richard stared unblinkingly at her as Gotham tilted her head slightly. Not like how a dog would beg its owner for treats, but rather the way a cat studies a mouse it’s already caught. The same manner in which a future Gotham Rogue scientist observes a test subject as they experiment on them. “I can kill you in the blink of an eye, I can take away everything you’ve come to care about. You latched onto my Prince and my Gentleman because they were kind. Because they think you’re normal. How do you think they’d feel about you if I were to reveal what you really are? After all, Brucie has that wonderful ‘no metas rule’ that I think you fall under. How do you think they’d react when they learn you’ve been lying to them this whole time?”

Richard flinched, eyes going wide as he trembled in his bed, staring at her unblinkingly. Gotham’s lips curled in a slow, smug smile. 

“That’s right. Remember, Richard, you are here playing the role of his child because I forced him to take you in. Not because he wanted you. If I tell him the truth of what you are, then you will have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. So. You’re not going to do anything against me. You’re not going to fight with me and if I tell you to jump, you don’t even wait to ask how high, you just jump. You do as you’re told and you play your role. Isn’t that right…my little Performer?” 

Dick shuddered as something curled around him, inside him, like a worm circling his heart or cold, dead hands gripping his lungs. It rooted into his essence, a chain slipping into his very being as Gotham claimed him as hers. As one of her-

“...you…marked me,” he whispered in horror. Gotham grinned at him, eyes narrowed into thin crescents. 

“Why shouldn’t I? You’ve been here longer than most without my claim on you, but now it’s over. You’re mine now, little Performer. My Mischief, darting around giving My Prince ulcers and terrifying criminals. My Delight, brightening the lives of the people you encounter as Robin. I’ve been watching, my little birdie. And if you’re working with My Prince and My Gentleman, I suppose it’s only fair that I mark you as mine too.” She moved forward, manifesting on top of him as Richard cringed and curled away from her into the mattress of his bed. She cooed at him and lifted her hand, brushing the hair from his face the same way she had with Bruce. 

“I- don’t- don’t touch me!”

His quiet, terrified words had her giggling at the sheer terror in his eyes, only emphasized by the trembling running through his body. “And why shouldn’t I? You interrupted my time with Brucie, like a big strong hero, where did all that bravado go? Or was that just another act that my Performer put on for me?”

Her hands cupped Richard’s cheeks and he tried to cringe away from her, but she simply pulled him closer. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and finally let him go, snickering as he all but threw himself off the bed to get away from her. 

“Relax, Richie. Even though there are some pedophiles in me, they’re very much a minority. You’re too young for me…for now. Maybe we’ll spend more intimate time together when you’re a bit older. Until then, remember~”

She vanished from the bed and reappeared right in front of him, towering over him as she yanked on thin air. The thing, her claim, that had wrapped around Dick’s being earlier tugged and he let out a quiet cry of pain as his body responded, jerking him onto his knees at her feet, head tilted up to look at her. 

“I OWN you. So take care how you interact with me, Richard.” With that she released him and he slumped, knees clacking against the wooden floor as she vanished again. Dick waited for a few moments in silence, shivering as he waited for her to return, eyes glancing at the corners of the room as if she’d manifest from the shadows. He slowly lifted a hand to his chest, pressing it against the flesh over his heart. 

Nausea swelled through his body at the feeling of her claim wrapped around his core, like he’d been drizzled with slime from the bottom of the harbor or something that had been living in the sewers. Like having rotten intestines wrapped around him as a chain, or a collar forced onto his neck. 

And for the first time since arriving in Gotham, Dick fully allowed himself to return to his natural state. Features blurred and he thrashed, desperately yanking and slashing at the invisible chain binding him to the horrible creature that had brought him to Wayne manor. He hissed and screamed in a pitch too high for human ears to hear. He rolled and kicked and squirmed, but already he could feel the claim beginning to sink into him, attempting to integrate with his core essence rather than simply wrap around it. 

Dick finally stopped, panting rapidly as he came to the hopeless conclusion that he couldn’t get the chain off. The stupid claim, the stupid thing holding him to her like Bane himself had picked him up and tucked him into her side, was impossible for him to get off with what limited power he had on his own. 

And the longer he stayed the deeper it would get.

He swallowed thickly before hurrying to his desk and yanking out a notebook. He ripped out a piece of paper and penned a note for Bruce and Alfred to find when they came to check on him in an hour or two. 

B,

Alfred,

I have some good bad news for you guys. I’m not sure how you’ll take this to be honest, and that kind of scares me. But, I’ll try to be honest. With you. Because you deserve it, even if I’m not really not comfortable talking about it.

I think that I definitely need to try and get some experience on my own. I want need to explore and find out what kind of hero person I want to be and while I could keep doing what we’ve been doing in Gotham, I think it’s a good idea best if I leave for a bit. 

This isn’t your fault, and I won’t be gone forever. Probably. Hopefully not. But I want to get out into the world, meet new people. There are rumors of a few superpowered teens maybe forming a team like the Justice League in San Francisco so…so I’m going there. I want to see if I can find other teen heroes and maybe we could team up or something? 

Regardless, thank you for everything, and I promise, I’ll come back for you. I promise. Or maybe I’ll just drag you out on a family trip! You both could do with some sunlight, you know! Getting a little pale there B. Anyways, this is just…I didn’t know how to bring it up to you, I thought about it so many times so I’m leaving without telling you. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I promise. If I need help, I’ll activate the emergency beacon, I promise. 

Love you,

Dick.

Dick swallowed thickly for a moment before quickly slipping down the cave, grabbing the Robin suit and stuffing it in a bag. He hurried back up to his room and began packing in a rush, hands shaking as he felt the claim on him tighten as though Gotham was realizing what he planned on doing. With a shudder he slipped down to the garage, the real one where they kept the Wayne family cars for appearances, grabbing the motorcycle that Bruce had gotten him when he turned sixteen and driving it outside. Dick made sure to use the override code to hide the alert that the garage was opening and the gates would open shortly after. Alfred would’ve noticed immediately otherwise and Dick needed as much of a headstart as he could get. 

He couldn’t allow Bruce or Alfred to stop him from leaving, not if he ever wanted to get rid of the thing latching onto him. So he zoomed along the streets, mostly empty now that it was just between the nighttime crime rush and the early morning church or work rush, speeding through the city. 

The claim tightened on him as he approached the city’s edge, like the guard dogs Joker sometimes liked to have around, perking their ears up to growl at him when they realized Robin was up to something. 

But Dick ignored it, pushing through the pain as it attempted to strangle his essence and force him back to the Manor, or even just deeper within city limits, only loosening slightly when he finally crossed the city’s boundary. He took a deep breath and finally slowed down, pulling to the side of the road to turn and look back at the city, face grimacing in sorrow and pain as he looked at the cityscape. 

“You’ll be back.” 

He shuddered at the voice that whispered in his ear, whipping to the side in terror. He panted as his pulse picked up, turning himself in a full circle trying to spot where Gotham was hiding. He only slowly began to relax when he confirmed she wasn’t physically present, though needles and cold droplets went down his spine when her voice breathed into his ears again. 

“They always come back.”

Dick shook his head and turned, getting back on his bike and speeding off, knowing it would be a long ride from Gotham to San Francisco. The further away from Gotham he could get the better, but she was right. 

He would be back. 

After all

Bruce and Alfred were still stuck there.

With her.

And as far as Dick was concerned that could not be allowed. 

He would find a way to save them. 

He promised.

“Alfred?” Bruce called, hand shaking as he picked up the piece of paper that had been left on Dick’s desk. He’d only slept for two hours or so before he’d forced himself to get up. Alfred had informed him that Dick hadn’t gotten up early for breakfast like normal. Of course, it was Sunday which meant it was also expected to be a late day after a night of crime fighting, but Dick loved Sunday brunch and always got up early to ‘help’ Alfred with making breakfast. 

Though Alfred only hesitantly allowed Dick to help set the table and never actually allowed him to help with making the food. There had been too many horrific failed attempts to make food in the first few months for Alfred to trust Dick in the kitchen unless all he was doing was microwaving pre-made food. 

But he hadn’t come down even when ten o’clock rolled around, so Bruce had decided to go do something parental and wake up his son. It normally wasn’t needed with Dick, even with Robin going out on late nights. Dick was a constant ball of energy, so it was rare for him to calm down and sleep in, especially on Sunday. 

Of course, that should’ve been the first warning sign, if Bruce was being honest. Of course Dick hadn’t slept in. Of course he’d still gotten up like usual, but Bruce would be lying if he said his chest wasn’t hurting at the apparent lack of trust and confidence his son apparently had in him. 

He would’ve helped Dick if he knew what he was looking into, was planning. 

“Yes sir?” Alfred responded, sharp eyes taking in the way the room looked like it had been ransacked. The bed was messy, with blankets and pillows all but thrown to the floor. The dresser had drawers pulled out to varying lengths with some clothes half strewn across the room on the floor. 

But most damningly?

Dick was conspicuously absent. 

And all that was left to indicate where he’d gone was the note in Bruce’s clenched fingers. 

“Find everything you can about any teen heroes operating in San Francisco,” Bruce ordered shakily. Alfred gave him a concerned look, lips pursing slightly until Bruce extended the note over to him. With a raised eyebrow, Alfred accepted it and read through it, face falling as he realized what it was. Then he nodded crisply to Bruce, folding the note neatly and tucking it into his breast pocket. 

“Of course, Master Bruce. Would you like me to prepare for retrieval contingencies?” he asked calmly. Bruce shook his head slowly. 

“No, no, don’t- don’t do that…but…if a new team does show up, sponsor them. Anonymously donate to help get them a place to stay and supplies to live off of. If…If Dick wants time away from us, then we can give him that. But…but we can still do what we can to assist him from afar, alright?” Alfred nodded sharply. 

“I’ll see that it is done, Master Bruce.” With that Alfred turned on his heel and strode off, likely heading towards the Batcave to research. Bruce turned back to the desk and, with shaky hands, picked up a framed photo on the wood. 

A picture of all three of them together on an outing, though Bruce couldn’t remember exactly what they’d been doing. Maybe it had been a zoo visit because Dick wanted to see the elephants. Or maybe it had just been a trip to the park as a family. He didn’t know, but they’d been surprised to see the photo in the newspaper. As it had turned out, originally it had been a stalker shot by Vicki, but Dick had loved it. Adored the small smile on Alfred’s face as he looked at Bruce, who Dick was clinging to the back of like a lemur or monkey. Bruce had a look of absolute surprise on his face and Dick a mischievous grin as he piggybacked on his father despite being a teen at the time. Bruce traced over Dick’s face and swallowed thickly. 

“Stay safe, chum.”

Chapter Text

“Dad? I don’t feel right.”

If asked, Jim Gordon would lie and say he didn’t know when it had started. That everything had been normal one day and wrong the next. That his daughter, his beloved baby girl Barbara, was normal and bright as could be one day and then she’d experienced something traumatic. Something that had changed who she was in almost every aspect. 

“Why sweetie, what’s wrong?”

But as mentioned before, that would be a lie.

“Something’s going to change tonight, Daddy. The man in black is coming back.”

What happened wasn’t some spontaneous, unforeseeable event. It was slow, filled with creeping comments and a lingering sense of unease whenever Barbara spoke. The shivers that ran down Jim’s spine like the ringing of a funeral bell hinting at the unnatural truth with which she spoke. 

“What man in black?”

Truthfully, when he looked back on it, Jim wasn’t certain there was ever a time when Barbara had truly been normal. Her eyes had always been too wide, too owlish. They’d been open when she was born and the doctors had been concerned she’d have vision problems later in life. 

And she did, but they were the same ones that Jim himself dealt with. The same poor eyes that had required him to wear glasses his whole life. Other than that, there was nothing to show that Barbara’s eyes were damaged.

“The Batman, Dad. He’s come home.”

Yet her eyes were still too wide. Too owlish and too wrong. Too observant as she scanned her surroundings with a knowing look no infant should have. The nurses whispered when Jim had taken her home, that she’d been born wrong. That she was unnatural or cursed. And in Gotham, Jim honestly wouldn’t bet against it. But no, that was not the case here. 

After all, Jim’s family had a history of this. Almost always from the sides that married into the family, but within the past four generations Jim could recall there being four spirit mediums, seven witches, and eleven family members that seemed to have some form of precognition. The Gordons were a family that seemed to collect those that could see beyond the natural human perception. 

But even with the family being as strange as they were, none of them knew what Barbara was. The witches had come and performed a ritualistic test to see if she would join their unofficial coven. And though Barbara had passed the test, she had somehow managed to do so in a way that told the witches she was not going to be one of their number. 

“Her gift is beyond our scope,” Margaret Gordon, the oldest of them, had told him. “She is something powerful, born atop the cursed, crossed ley lines of Gotham. You should not have come here if she was to have been born normal.”

They couldn’t even tell him what her gift was, only that witchcraft was not among it. Her skills, according to Margaret, lay firmly among the technologies of the world and the shadows that lurked within the city. 

So Jim had swallowed thickly, thanked the coven for coming, and called up the mediums. He didn’t personally believe in ghosts or spirits, but enough people did that mediums were popular to higher. He had to schedule an appointment with his own relative, Tod Gordon. Thankfully Tod had denied payment, insisting on coming to see the child since ‘the spirits whispered of her and I have been curious myself’. 

If ghosts or specters were involved in her powers, then Jim honestly would just choose to move. He knew far too well, from his work at the station, exactly how many people were killed in Gotham. Even if Jim himself didn’t believe in ghosts, if they did exist then he had little doubt that Gotham would be full of them. There were far too many dead people in the city for there to not be some lingering spirits. But Barbara had simply smiled at him when he told her Tod was coming over. She hadn’t said anything, even when Tod had appeared at their door, smile on his face, and turned white as a piece of printer paper when he caught sight of her. 

“She won’t hurt you, Uncle Tod. I promise.”

Jim still didn’t know who Barbara had been referring to, but Tod had. Tod had nodded swiftly and turned his attention away from Barbara sharply, still pale enough that Jim escorted him to a seat and offered him a glass of water. Tod had refused to look at Barbara the rest of the short hour he was there. Once the time was up, he’d bolted from the house like he was being chased. Jim had only gotten an explanation from him over the phone later when Tod was on a flight to Florida. 

“Something powerful has claimed her, taken an interest in her. The Lady shows your daughter things; feeds her pieces of information like they’re candy. If your daughter ever tells you something, for gods sake, listen to her. For your own safety if nothing else.” 

Gordon had absolutely caught onto the capitalization when Tod had referred to ‘The Lady’. What Lady he’d been referring to, Jim had no clue and he honestly would’ve expected some tidbit like that to be something the coven had passed onto him, yet all they’d been able to do was encourage him to give Barbara as much access to technology as possible. He still wasn’t entirely sure what that was supposed to be for.

He’d reached out to a few of his cousins, those who’d claimed to have the precognition that was apparently so common in his family. They hadn’t been willing to come to Gotham, (fair) but they had asked him to describe the odd things she said or talked about over the phone, trying to see if they recognized it. Because precognition was so common in their family, it should’ve been easy for another individual with the sight to be able to recognize it. And yet?

“Sorry, Jim, but I don’t think she has precog. She’s definitely got some kind of sight, but it sounds more like she sees what’s happening in the current moment in different places rather than seeing the future. It’s like it’s closer to being all seeing than just seeing the future, you know? And even then, we tend to see things like little fuzzy daydreams. Deja vu? That’s normal people experiencing a moment of precog. They just don’t realize it as quickly as we do and it’s more fuzzy for them, harder to remember. What she has? It’s way too clear to be precognition. Sorry I can’t help you any further than that, Jim.”

So he’d sighed and thanked Ben for taking the time to talk before ending the call and looking at his daughter, who’d smiled with her dimpled grin at him. 

“It’ll be okay, Dad. It doesn’t hurt.” 

“But what if you see something bad, kiddo? Sweetheart, there are a lot of bad people in the world who do really nasty, evil things. I don’t want you to see that,” Jim had soothed in response. To his horror, Barbara’s only response had been:

“Like Falcone dumping Ricky’s body into the harbor? That sort of thing? ‘Cause I see it a lot, Dad, but it’s okay! The Batman will help. He’ll put a stop to them!”

He wasn’t sure how his daughter was so calm after seeing crimes committed before her unusual eyes, but he was worried. This was certainly not normal and he, as a good father, needed to do something about it.

The first (and only) thing he’d done was try to remove her from Gotham. 

It seemed the easiest answer, after all. Seemed so clear to him, since all she ever saw was in Gotham, that if they simply left then perhaps she wouldn’t see things that were so dark or horribly traumatizing to a child. 

That was his first mistake. 

Thinking it would be easy to deal with the problem.

The instant their car had passed through the city borders, Barbara began to seize in her seat, thrashing and screaming incoherently in the backseat. Smoke began to fill the car, like one of Batman’s smoke bombs had been thrown in through one of the unbroken windows or stashed in his car ahead of time, making it impossible to see his daughter or what was happening to her. Jim had yanked the car to the side of the road, stopping it and hurling himself out of the car to shoot to Barbara’s side. 

He threw the backdoor open and smoke spilled out, like the car was truly smoking. He could see passing drivers glancing over curiously before going on their way. To Jim’s horror, the smoke was coming from Barbara. It was pouring from her mouth, her nose, her ears. Her eyes were glowing a horrible toxic green, wide and unseeing behind her glasses. 

“Babs! Babs, can you hear me??” He reached for her, only to jerk back when her head snapped to look at him, face twisting in a furious snarl. 

“Return her! Return my Oversight IMMEDIATELY! Return her to me!” 

Gordon stepped away from his daughter in shocked horror. That was not Barbara speaking. Barbara did not have the tell-tale rasp of a chain smoker. She didn’t have the crisp Bristol accent of one of Gotham’s wealthy elite. She certainly didn’t shriek and click like bats when she spoke. The thing was still speaking through Barbara, whipping his daughter’s limbs and head around furiously like a ragdoll. 

“Wh-where?? Where do I-do I return her??” Jim pleaded, begging the creature controlling his daughter to tell him how to release her. 

And suddenly it all stopped. The thrashing, the smoke, the screams. Barbara’s head turned to study him slowly, her eyes still glowing that unnatural shade, so different from her normal blue-green eyes. Her eyes were supposed to be darker, like old sea glass. Not that strange toxic glow. 

“Gotham. Return Barbara Gordon, my Oversight to me. Do not attempt to leave city limits with her again or I swear to you, Jim Gordon, you will not like the consequences.”

Jim held up his hands peaceably, slowly stepping forward like he was approaching a wild animal. “Okay! Okay, back to Gotham. I-I will, I promise, but please, let my daughter go.”

Barbara’s familiar eyes narrowed at him and a sneer curled across her face. “I will return her when she is back within the city and not a moment sooner.”

Jim swallowed thickly, gently grabbing the door’s edge. “Okay. Alright. I-I promise I’ll take her back. Just-just don’t hurt her.”

“Why would I ever hurt what’s mine?” The creature tilted her head slightly, staring down at Jim like he was stupid. “If I wanted her broken, I would’ve crushed her years ago.”

Gordon had swallowed and nodded, shutting the back door and returning to the driver’s seat. He shut the door behind him and started the car, feeling like he had a gun to the back of his head. Except he didn’t. Because he wasn’t the hostage. His beautiful, precious daughter was the one being held hostage, toxic green eyes still peering hatefully at Jim in the rearview mirror, whenever he glanced back. 

He turned the car around, using the closest exit to turn around and approach the city he’d just been trying to leave. A sinking feeling built in his gut as the storm clouds over the city seemed to glow with thunder and lightning at their approach, like some kind of horrible ‘welcome home’. His hands trembled on the steering wheel, his mind screaming at him, begging him to whip the car around and drive away. 

The creature had already confirmed it didn’t want to hurt Barbara. It reasonably didn’t have any other chips to hold. 

And yet…

“...Dad?”

A choked sob escaped his lips when they finally passed the Welcome to Gotham sign and Barbara slumped in the back seat, like a puppet with her strings cut. He pulled to the side of the road and hurried out of the car, opening the backdoor and reaching forward to pull Barbara into his arms. She whined and blinked her eyes open slowly, revealing those beautiful blue green eyes of hers. 

“You made her mad, Dad. Don’t make the Lady mad, it never ends well,” Barbara murmured sleepily to him as he hugged her against him. He swallowed thickly. 

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t. Not-not if it could hurt-”

“She won’t hurt me, Dad, but she’ll hurt everyone around me instead. And I don’t want you to get hurt.” Barbara’s words broke Jim’s heart and he let out a broken sob, curling his daughter against his chest tighter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back sleepily, no. Weakly. Like her strength had been drained from her, probably by the thing that had possessed her in the car. 

Because of him. Because he’d tried to take her away from Gotham and had made something angry instead. A creature that understood how to use relationships against individuals to keep them obedient. A creature that dangled his daughters safety and wellbeing over his head like a noose around her neck.

“You should go to work, Dad. It’s important. You’ll get to have your first meeting with Batman tonight.” A shiver ran down Jim’s spine at the reminder. 

The Batman, an unknown vigilante running around doing what he could to bring down the mob bosses. He’d been effective for a while, but then the Rogues had started showing up and suddenly Batman always had bigger problems to deal with. Not that Jim was complaining all that much, since Batman tended to bring down the Rogues before they had many, if any, casualties and he knew that was better than the corrupt force he worked in could do. But all that Batman’s distraction meant was that the mobs had begun to rebuild. He hadn’t managed to burn them all to the ground before the first Rogues began to appear, meaning that just like the weeds they were, the criminal underworld grew back. 

And now Barbara was saying he’d meet the Batman that night. 

Barbara, who had yet to be wrong with one of her statements. 

So Jim pulled back to look at his daughter worriedly, eyes scanning over her lax form. “...are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

She blinked at him slowly before nodding. “I’ll be alright, Dad. Go. Meet your new colleague.”

Jim had a sinking feeling just based on the fact that she referred to Batman as his colleague.

This would not end well. 

Barbara knew she wasn’t normal. Knew that she saw too much, too many things happening around her. As a younger child she’d adjusted to it purely because she couldn’t even begin to understand what it was she was seeing happening. No matter how many men or women she saw get shot, beaten, tortured, or killed, her little infant brain didn’t understand what it was seeing. 

All she understood was that it was real, the same way Dad’s stubble was itchy and scratchy, Mom’s voice was soft and gentle, and The Lady had claimed her. 

It had taken her a while to realize who, or rather what, the Lady was. When she was younger, Barbara had just viewed her as her fairy godmother. (It should’ve been a warning sign that calling her that to her face had resulted in the Lady rolling around on the floor laughing.) But the Lady was the one who watched after her once her Mom divorced her father and moved away from Gotham. It was the Lady who kept an eye on Barbara while her father worked long nights at the precinct. It was the Lady who first explained to her that what she saw was real, and happening almost always in live time throughout the city. 

Barbara had nightmares for a few weeks after that, but the Lady was always there, stroking her hair whenever she woke up from them. Her eyes were sad but understanding, even as her hands were cold and damp. (Like Maria Santiano’s hands, floating in the Gotham harbor in a facsimile of one last desperate stretch for the surface despite the concrete weighing her feet down to the bottom.) 

And as she grew, Barbara began to pay more attention to the Lady as she appeared less and less, while Babs needed her less and less. She began to notice the hint of cruel pleasure in her eyes whenever Barbara discussed one of her visions, began to notice the tiny bruises dotting her arms and the white powder she didn’t always brush off her nose. Began to notice how quickly the Lady switched between kind and understanding to cruel and bitter. 

Gotham was struggling. 

That was the conclusion Barbara came to. 

It must be hard, being the manifestation of a city so full of people doing bad things over and over again. So many with conflicting goals, conflicting motivations. It must be difficult to constantly never know whether or not she would help or hurt. After all, though they were few, there were good people in Gotham trying to help. For every Court member there was a volunteer at one of Gotham’s homeless shelters. For every corrupt cop there was a citizen that would hide others from them. For every villain, there was a hero, even if not all of them wore capes. 

Though the capes were her favorite to watch. 

Batman, Bruce Wayne, was strong and enduring, working long hours to better the city both during the day and at night. Wayne Enterprises offered jobs to everyone regardless of education or background, providing a safe place for former criminals to get a job without discrimination. His charity programs wove through the city like golden threads in a tapestry, reaching out to as many people as possible and forming an undeniable safety net for those willing to trust it. And at night, Batman fought dozens of people to make the area safer. To reduce crime and allow a bit of breathing room for the beaten, worn down citizens of Gotham who were there because they just couldn’t or wouldn’t get out. Batman was a ghost, whispered about as a warning, but children were told that if they saw him, he would help them. They could trust him. 

And that said more about Batman than any other rumors ever could. 

Robin on the other hand, was clearly something other. Oh he helped alright, brought smiles to the faces of victims who’d thought they were experiencing their last moments, helped lost kids get home safely, and kept Batman stable and happy in a way he hadn’t been since Gotham had forced that…interaction between him and Catwoman that Barbara thankfully only barely remembered, but he was definitely Not Human. 

Though, considering her own state, could Barbara truly call herself human either?

Barbara shook her head, dispelling the thought as she gathered her homemade costume into her arms. It wasn’t the same as the Bats, not in truth, but the plan was to join the Bats. To present herself as an ally. 

And that would take time. 

It would take whispers of a new Bat, drawing their attention to her. She couldn’t just walk up and demand to join them, Batman and Robin would both inevitably refuse. But she didn’t need to go to them. 

She would make them come to her.

“That’s my girl.”

Barbara slipped on her mask and slipped out of the abandoned apartment she’d changed into, darting into the night and letting her vision guide her to where she needed to go. There was a soft chuckle and then a feeling of hands on her shoulders, pushing her off her path towards another. 

“Right, use the roofs!” Barbara whispered to herself, scaling the fire escape as the hands vanished from her shoulders. She hauled herself onto the roof and quickly began running along the length of it, fearlessly throwing herself off the edge onto another building. Her foot hit the roof edge and she stumbled, going down hard, but the red head picked herself back up and shook herself off. She took off into the dark night, with Gotham smiling behind her. 

“Oh, my little Oversight, you still have no clue how to use your powers, do you? Otherwise you’d know, this path is not for you. So…what should I call you?” She studied the figure in purple and yellow darting along the rooftops before snickering to herself. With a snap of her fingers, the front of Barbara’s makeshift uniform changed, purple fading into a bright yellow bat shape. “Your alias, until you take up your true name, shall be Batgirl.”

With a laugh, Gotham vanished into smoke, tendrils curling throughout the city as she sought out her Knight. Barbara would be distracted, her vision focused on those she would encounter rather than the whole city as it one day could be. Which meant Gotham had a bit of time for herself. 

With a slight check, Gotham confirmed that Richard was asleep in his bed, curled around his pillow, before manifesting into the Batcave, wrapping her arms around Bruce’s shoulders. He stiffened immediately as she leaned forward to whisper into his ear. 

“Brucie~ I think it’s time we spend some private time together, don’t you?” A shudder of revulsion ran through Bruce’s frame as he stayed perfectly still, as if hoping that by not moving she would leave him alone. She giggled to herself before pulling him backwards. 

Bruce flopped onto the (ew, sticky) sheets of a lumpy, messy bed. A glance around showed empty condom wrappers left on the floor and fluids of various kinds scattered around the room. His lip curled, particularly when he caught sight of the collar and cuffs laying discarded on the couch, but his attention was distracted by a curvaceous body pushing him back down onto his back on the bed. 

He only had a moment of shock to realize that somewhere between falling from the Batcave onto the love hotel bed he’d lost his armor, before hands were cupping his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. He shut his eyes and fought down the urge to recoil, to pull away from the curvaceous blonde cupping his face in her hands. Once she pulled back, he swallowed thickly, keeping the bile from rising higher in his throat as he took in her nude form. 

Absently he noted circular bruises on her arms, injection marks most likely, as well as a slight discoloration on her right hand’s fingers. It wasn’t unusual for people to smoke in Gotham, and it was even less so for people to do drugs. 

“Who is she?” Bruce forced himself to ask, turning his head slightly to meet bright toxic eyes shining from behind a mess of soft golden waves. Gotham tilted her head slightly before leaning back, dragging a hand down her chest between her breasts. 

“Who, this? No one important. Just…someone who saw too much and made too many observations. She tried to change things, but did so without asking despite knowing I was there. So I punished her. She’s locked in her head for the most part, can’t say a word about who her clients are, no matter who they might be or what they do to her. But if you want a title for her, then I suppose you could say…she’s my Whore. I own her, whether she likes it or not. Don’t worry, Brucie, she’s not one of my favorites and she’s so high right now it’ll be impressive if she even remembers this when she wakes up.” Bruce shut his eyes tightly, carefully breathing through his nose. 

“That’s still not okay,” he murmured. Lips pressed against his own and Bruce clenched his fists for a moment before slowly relaxing them, forcing his mind into a state of careful meditation. A state of calculated disconnection from his body. 

Except then he found himself being yanked forward by his throat, hands jerking behind them as he snapped back to reality. He stiffened, muscles pulled tight as he was dragged upwards and forward, away from the head of the bed by…a chain.

With a quick glance and a sinking feeling, Bruce confirmed that the collar and cuffs were no longer on the couch. 

“Now now, don’t go disappearing into your head. I was kind the first time, but I want you present for this, Brucie, my beloved, my Prince.” Bruce fought back the nausea that boiled in his stomach as Gotham yanked the chain higher, forcing him to lift his head to meet her eyes. “I want to see everything.”

“B, have you heard? There are rumors going around on the streets about a new Bat!” Robin informed him a week or two later. “Some redhead girl in purple and yellow with the symbol of the Bats on her chest. She’s been helping out around the Narrows and Central.” 

Bruce grunted in response. “Any idea who she is?”

“Oh yeah,” Dick said with a grin. With a few clicks on the keyboard, a new profile appeared on the computer, showing the image of a fifteen year old girl on the screen. “Barbara Gordon, daughter of the Commissioner. She attends school in the morning and volunteers at the Gotham General Library in her afternoons. Apparently she’s also picked up the fun vigilante hobby as of late too.” 

Bruce studied the image of the young, determined girl. Strangely enough, her photo seemed to be staring back at him from the computer, causing him to frown slightly. Something here was wrong. There was something unusual about this new apparent Bat, but what it was he couldn’t say yet. 

“So…we gonna go have a talk with her?” Robin asked carefully. Batman grunted in reply, turning sharply on his heel to approach the Batmobile. 

“We’ll do it tonight.”

Barbara opened her eyes and tilted her head curiously. Something about the big Bat had been…off. Like he was nervous, or shaking off some residual fear gas. He wasn’t comfortable in his armor, like he was expecting an attack at any moment, despite being in the Batcave. 

Barbara still thought that Robin’s habit of naming everything related to Batman with ‘bat’ at the start of it was both cute and annoying. 

She pursed her lips, recalling the way Batman had looked around himself, scanning his surroundings and only barely paying attention to what Robin was saying. “Something must’ve happened recently. Something put him on guard.”

“What was that Babs?” Barbara stiffened and then glanced over her shoulder, smiling at her dad. 

“Nothing, just some drama going on with my friends at school. One’s been a bit stressed as of late and I’ve been trying to think of how to calm him down or help him out,” she reassured. Jim Gordon blinked at his daughter before smiling softly. 

“You’re a good friend, Babs. Why don’t you suggest helping them study for whatever’s stressing him out?” Jim suggested, stepping into the kitchen to begin working on dinner. Barbara smiled weakly but shook her head.

“It’s not…I don’t think whatever he’s worried about is school related.” Jim’s shoulders stiffened slightly and he stilled for a moment before he returned to working, the clatter of dishes assuring her that most of his attention was sufficiently distracted, but there was still the Commissioner side of him keeping a close ear out for what she said.

“You think it might be home life related?” he asked carefully. Barbara shook her head immediately. 

“No, no- he- his family adore him. His father makes sure to keep an eye on him and take care of him, but he…tends to let my…friend make his own mistakes to learn from. And his younger brother follows him around like a duckling trying to make him happy. There’s no way that whatever he’s stressed about is home life related.” Jim turned to look at his daughter carefully. 

“Babs-”

“No. No, Dad. If-if there were something wrong in his home, I’d see it,” she clipped out. Jim stared at her cautiously for a moment before sighing. 

“You’re not all seeing, Babs. Sweetheart, you know you can’t see everything. But, I’ll take your word for it. You’ve never been wrong before, and I don’t expect you will be now,” he demurred. She sighed, relaxing slightly as her father reassured her opinion. “Is it possible it’s gang related? Drugs maybe?”

Barbara shook her head immediately. “No, he’s the type of person more likely to fight the gangs and get himself killed like that then work with them. And he only uses drugs as medication when he absolutely has to, and even then his father basically has to point out that he broke his arm before he’ll take so much as an Ibuprofen.”

She huffed in annoyance at the memory of Batman’s utter patheticness. Admittedly, in the instance she’d pointed out he also turned out to have a broken collarbone and three fractured ribs, but he’d still refused pain medication until Dick had turned sad puppy dog eyes on him. At which point Alfred had promptly slipped him a sedative to ensure he stayed down and didn’t just get back up to start working on cases at the computer. 

“Maybe that’s the problem? He pissed off someone he shouldn’t have and now he’s worried they’re coming after him?” Her father called absently from the kitchen. Barbara’s lips twitched and she fought back the laugh that attempted to bubble up out of her throat. Every damn crime ring in the city and their members were looking for Batman, each wanting to put the Bat’s head on a pike to show his place and their superiority. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t superior, and Batman would never be caught that easily. 

“No, he’s good at covering his tracks. I don’t think even if he did get in a fight with a gang, that he’d get caught so easily. I’d probably be worried about needing to report him to you if he weren’t such a genuinely good person, just based on how easy it is for him to vanish on you. I swear, we’ll be talking and I’ll turn away for a second, but he’s gone the instant I turn back,” Barbara said with a snicker. Jim sighed. 

“I know someone like that in my life,” he grumbled. Barbara chuckled, recalling all the times where her father had been talking with Batman about something and the Bat just noped out of the conversation in the span of a second or two. 

“I know,” Barbara teased, earning a groan from her father. They both went silent for a moment and Barbara shook her head, forcibly dispelling her concern for Batman. She had other things to worry about. Like the fact that the Bats were coming to her, just like she’d planned. She glanced worriedly over at her father. 

It would be REALLY bad if they showed up while he was still home…they wouldn’t do that, right?

Probably not, was the conclusion that Barbara came to. Even if her father worked regularly with Batman, that didn’t mean that Batman wanted to risk revealing that the teenage daughter of Commissioner Gordon was running around acting as a vigilante. 

And claiming to be one of the Bats at that. 

Yeeaaah…that would NOT go over well with Dad.

Admittedly Barbara was still mildly annoyed at the yellow bat symbol she’d found on the chest of her uniform when she’d got home after that first night. It was undoubtedly one of the Lady’s manipulations as Barbara certainly hadn’t put it there, because she didn’t want to be presumptuous. If the Bats found out about her, she wanted it to be because of her own abilities and strength. 

Not because she was running around wearing their symbol. 

Of course, that hope had died the second night she went on patrol when several of the civilians she helped thanked her as Batgirl. Like, seriously?? What kind of name was Batgirl?

Though to be fair, BatMAN wasn’t a much better name, but at least it made him sound like an adult. Why not Batwoman? It wasn’t like the name was taken and it still gave the same idea: female member of the Bats.

“Dinner’s ready, Babs. Come on over,” Jim called. Barbara closed the book she’d had out on her lap, having almost forgotten it was there, before setting it aside and hurrying to the table, where her father was setting out dinner. 

“It smells-”

Before Barbara could finish, the phone began to ring. Barbara paused and stared at it for a moment as her father sighed and stood up. He lifted it and answered swiftly. 

“Gordon here, who’s this?” He stiffened, eyes narrowing and his lips pursing into a thin line. “I see. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Setting the phone down, Jim’s frame slumped slightly as he took a moment before turning back to the table and giving Barbara a weak smile. 

“Something at the precinct?” she asked carefully. Jim blew out a sigh. 

“Arkham breakout. All hands on deck. Thankfully Joker is still contained, but Scarecrow and Two Face have busted out.” Barbara stiffened, frowning sharply but nodding. 

“Stay safe out there,” she murmured. He gave her a soft, pained smile before nodding and hurriedly grabbing his coat before heading out. Barbara waited a few minutes, picking at the food her father had made before speedily putting it away and grabbing her suit. She slipped out into the night seamlessly and focused, letting her vision overlap as Two Face shouted and brought out his coin to flip. 

A hand grabbing her arm dragged her out of the sight and she paused, realizing with some surprise that Robin and Batman had found her. 

“We need to talk,” Batman growled. Barbara swallowed at the sight of his eyes glaring down at her before steeling her spine and glaring back at him. 

“We do, but not right now. If we don’t hurry up, Two Face is going to kill his hostages, so get a move on and let go, Batman. I know where he is, so please just trust me for now.” Batman stared at her and then stiffened, just as Barbara felt familiar, cold fingers curl over her shoulders. The scent of cigarette smoke wafted to her nose but she ignored it in favor of staring down Batman as the other released her and clenched his jaw. Batman silently nodded and Barbara took off into the night, soaring along the rooftops beside Batman and Robin. 

It was a joyous feeling, better than anything else she could ever describe. The feeling of connection, of rightness as she soared over Gotham alongside its protectors? It was perfect.

It wasn’t hard to convince them to continue to let her help, even work with them after they’d put away Two Face and Scarecrow in the span of one night. Especially with the Lady practically vouching for her, though something about the Lady’s presence set Batman on edge and made Robin cautious, almost suspicious. Barbara wasn’t sure what was going on with them, but she was more than happy to continue working alongside the Bats.

Even when it meant she had to watch Robin zoom out of the city despite the Lady’s fury. Even when it meant that she had to watch Bruce be sad and depressed whenever Robin was even mentioned. 

And then?

Then there was a new Robin. 

Jason was…strange in Barbara’s eyes. There were times where she’d swear she was alone and her sight confirmed it, but then Jason would be there, tapping at her shoulder as though he’d always been in the room with her. Other times he’d seem…washed out and pale to the point where almost all colors seemed to fade on him. Hell, she swore he was see through at least once. 

Yet neither Bruce nor Jason seemed to notice anything odd. Jason told her that he came through the door like a normal person, which was more than Bruce did, and it was probably just the lighting that made him seem pale. And being see through? Bruce would’ve noticed if Jason were spontaneously turning invisible or translucent. 

Considering she’d never managed to catch a picture of him in those states or even prove what she was talking about, she’d been forced to set it aside. It was fine. It didn’t really matter what was going on with Jason. 

Especially not once she got an eyeful of something the Lady had been trying to hide from her. 

It had been on a quiet patrol night. Robin was finally given permission to patrol on his own, which Jason had taken to with great delight, and Barbara was keeping an eye on him while following her own patrol route. He was bright and cheerful in a way that outshone even Dick. When he was Robin, Dick had been a performer, bouncing around and putting on a show to keep people distracted or entertained as necessary. 

With Jason? It was never an act. Jason didn’t bother to hide how he felt about anything no matter the situation. If he liked you, he’d tell you. If he didn’t, well…a tire iron to the knee could do some serious damage, not that Bruce knew he had taken to carrying one around. When Barbara had told Dick over a call, he’d laughed and told her how it reminded him of his early Robin days, when he’d pick up any nearby pipe or stick to use as a weapon if he needed to. They both found Jason’s weapon choice amusing and agreed to keep it from Bruce. 

Barbara paused on the roof she was standing on, tilting her head slightly at the thought of Batman. She hadn’t checked in yet, but Batman didn’t typically let Jason patrol on his own with being somewhere nearby in the area. So where…

Her vision blurred and suddenly was filled with smoke and tangled limbs. Something was caressing Bruce, rotting hands worn thin and bony with age felt at his bare skin as Bruce turned his face away silently, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as the thing blew a breath of smoke up Bruce’s nose. He choked and coughed, and the creature immediately moved forward, pressing against Bruce and kissing him, the hands still wrapped around Bruce’s shoulders. The creature rubbed against Bruce’s thigh and Barbara let out a little choked gasp of disgust and horror at the sight of something apparently trying to rape Bruce. 

Then the creature stilled and the vision sharpened into dangerous clarity as the creature turned around and horribly familiar green eyes stared straight at Barbara. “Excuse me, Brucie sweetheart, it seems we have an uninvited voyeur. I’ll deal with them.”

Barbara darted towards the edge of the city, completely hopeless even as she realized how far it would be. The moment she landed on another rooftop, smoke curled around her and yanked her off her feet. Barbara glared murderously at the figure standing in front of her, the Lady coalescing from the smoke and shadows around her. 

“Oh, my sweet little Oversight, you should’ve known better than to look,” Gotham crooned at Barbara. Barbara curled her lip at the woman and spat at the ground near where she stood. 

“I should’ve known better than to check up on one of my allies and see him getting raped? Yeah. I should’ve known better. I should’ve known better than to trust you, especially after Nightwing-” Gotham stilled, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“Nightwing? Richard is involved in this?” She hummed dangerously. Barbara snapped her mouth shut, internally cursing herself. “Oh come now, you’ve already revealed my Performer’s interference here, you might as well continue speaking.”

“He told me not to trust you. That you were hiding things and that you weren’t really the ally I thought you were. I told him he was wrong. I told him that you were one of the best allies we had and then I saw that-” Smoke poured from Barbara’s mouth and she choked on the green gas. She stared at it in confusion as it swirled in the air around her. What Rogue had green gas? Joker preferred purple, Scarecrow didn’t have a color preference, maybe it was a Poison Ivy spore cloud? And yet…somehow Barbara had a lurking suspicion that none of her guesses were correct. 

“You don’t really know what you were seeing,” Gotham hissed dangerously. Barbara glared back at her. 

“I’ve seen enough to recognize the face of someone being coerced for sex,” she growled back. “He doesn’t want you.”

Gotham stilled, eyes going wide for a moment. A flash of emotion blurred over her ever-shifting face, a moment of weakness before her eyes narrowed and her face shifted into a snarl. Gotham lashed out, her hand wrapping around Barbara’s neck and squeezing tightly, furiously. 

“You know nothing. I have handed you everything. Your connection to the Bats, your name on the streets, everything. And this is how you thank me?” Barbara clawed desperately at the hand but slowly stopped when all her efforts accomplished was her desperately scratching at her own neck. Gotham stared at her for a moment longer before dropping her, eyes narrowing into thin slits as her hair whirled around her head in a furious storm, lightning and thunder beginning to flash in the sky around her. “I think, you need to learn a lesson. You and my disrespectful, runaway Performer. So. I hope that when your discipline is through, you remember to watch your tongue when speaking to me.”

In a flash of lightning Gotham disappeared and the sky began to pour, rain falling hard enough that it was almost completely impossible for Barbara to see her hand in front of her face. A sinking feeling dragged her down to her knees as she pulled out her phone and dialed Dick’s number. 

“Hey Babs! What do you need? It’s good to hear from you, been a while since our last call. How’s everything going over there?”

Barbara stared blankly into the space in front of her, vision blurring as she desperately tried to search for Gotham in her Sight. 

“Babs? Are you okay? Do I need to call Bruce?”

“I think I fucked up, Dick.” The phone was silent for a moment before Dick spoke up again, slowly. 

“Do I need to call Bruce?”

Barbara took a shuddering breath. “You were right. About…about Her. I-I saw…I saw her forcing herself on-on Bruce. I should’ve- I should’ve trusted you, but I didn’t and I saw and now she’s- she’s angry, Dick. She said she was going to discipline me. Or-Or rather, us, because I-I let slip that you’d- you warned me. About her. And now…I don’t know what she’s going to do. I can’t see her anymore.”

She trailed off, swallowing thickly as she hung her head and waited for Dick’s reply. She heard him take a deep, slow breath over the phone and then he spoke again. 

“Okay. Okay. That’s…definitely not great. But…at least we’re not alone? We can- we can get through this together, Babs.”

“How? You’re not even here,” Barbara choked. There was a pause on the other side of the phone. 

“Babs, if I come back, especially while She’s in a bad mood, I might never leave Gotham again. I won’t- I won’t be able to, the same way Alfred and Bruce can’t. I…we’ll stay in contact. We’ll pass messages and keep an eye on everyone. But Babs-”

Dick cut himself off and the call went silent for a bit. Dick took a slow, deep breath and exhaled slowly. 

“She thrives off of fear. The fear of punishment, of retribution. That’s what she uses to keep everyone in check. She threatens us and the people around us. Just…try to stay calm, don’t panic, and keep an eye on everyone. It’ll…we’ll figure this out. Okay?”

Barbara sniffled and wiped away the water dripping down her face, the storm loud around her. “Okay.”

“Take care, Babs. Watch your back.”

“You too, Boy Blunder.”

The call ended quietly and Barbara slipped out of the storm, retreating to her home and burying herself under the blankets. She swallowed thickly and shut her eyes tightly, ignoring the water that slipped out between her eyelids. 

Just lingering rainwater. 

That’s all. 

“Babs, I’ve got good news!” Jim called when he finally got home. Barbara relaxed slightly at his voice. It had been almost two months since Gotham had made her threat and both she and Dick had been on edge at the radio silence. Gotham wasn’t the type to hide her intentions or actions, not in their experience, yet she hadn’t been seen by anyone in the past two months. Bruce and Alfred were taking it as a much-needed break, but Barbara wasn’t so trusting of the Lady’s disappearing act. 

Especially since her vision had been blurring more and more often as she tried to check up on the people she cared about. Green smoke would obscure the sight of her father working a case, of Bruce tinkering away in the Batcave, of Alfred answering the door to Wayne manor. She was particularly worried about Jason, who her sight struggled to catch on a good day, let alone on the days when she couldn’t even leave the house because green smoke covered her real vision. Nothing was going right since she’d upset the Lady, but perhaps things were…looking up if her father had good news?

“What’s up, Dad?” she called back, making her way into the kitchen. He chuckled and sighed, that long suffering sight Barbara remembered from when she did something he found impossible to deal with and yet adorable all at once. Strange that it would come out now. 

“I’m being promoted at work,” he said. Barbara raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly. 

“And that’s…good news? It’s just…you complain about work so often that it feels a bit unlike you to call it good news now that you’re getting a promotion,” she commented. Jim grinned and -ah, there it was- there was a hint of mania hidden in his eyes, the kind where someone had just thrown about five curveballs and a Joker gas canister at his head and he just had to roll with it. 

“It’s not just any promotion, Babs. I’m being made the new commissioner. Commissioner Loeb is finally retiring which means someone new has to step up and they picked me. I knew when I tossed my hat in the ring it would be a long shot, but I’ve got it, Babs!” Barbara felt dread begin to rise in her chest, making it hard to breathe as the memory of Gotham’s threats weighed heavy on her shoulders. 

“I- dad, are you sure? I mean…Loeb didn’t get attacked by the Rogues a lot because everyone knew she was corrupt, but you’re…”

“Not?” Jim asked with a grin. “I know! I can finally start cracking down on corruption in the police! Work to make sure that funds meant for securing Arkham and Blackgate don’t just get pocketed and leave holes in the security for the Rogues to get out! I can finally change the GCPD for the better, Babs! It’s incredible news!” 

Barbara desperately searched her brain for something, ANYTHING she could say to her dad that would make him turn down the promotion. Everything about it screamed that it was a trap, that it was part of Gotham’s ‘punishment’ for her and Dick. 

But…

She looked at her father, humming happily as he bustled around the kitchen, likely getting things for dinner ready, she didn’t know if she could break his hopes like this. She’d seen him come home for years looking beat down and furious because a case had been dropped after blatant corruption in the ranks. She’d seen him sobbing incoherently as child traffickers got away because some unknown officer sabotaged evidence and they lost the trail for the kids. She’d seen him looking absolutely worn down and hopeless when criminals like Falcone and Sionis waltzed into the GCPD and walked out unbothered after doing their business with the corrupt cops in the back. 

Could she really destroy his hope for a better future with him as the Commissioner after all that?

Barbara took a deep breath and looked at her father with a wide, fake smile. “That’s wonderful news, Dad. I’m sure you’ll make a great Commissioner.” 

Jim smiled back at his daughter, too caught up in his own excitement and joy to see the way her eyes were worried and sad. “Thanks Barbara! This is- it means a lot to me.”

Barbara’s smile twitched and nearly fell as her father turned back to continue working in the kitchen, barely missing her reply. 

“I know.”

Barbara carefully watched the inauguration speech and announcement for her father’s promotion. She knew Batman and Robin were on site keeping an eye out for any Rogue attack, especially since the Joker had escaped Arkham only a week earlier. He’d been suspiciously quiet and Barbara was almost certain that Gotham was helping to hide Joker from the Bats, his tracks covered in a way that rang alarm sirens in Barbara’s mind.

She and Dick still hadn’t told Bruce, Alfred, or Jason about what had happened. About the threats the Lady had made. Barbara had a feeling Bruce would completely shut down any missions she tried to go on if he knew. 

Thankfully, surprisingly, the only Rogue to try and attack the ceremony was Condiment King and he was put down fast enough that Robin was the only one who got hit with relish. Something something, Condiment King relished the good news about a new noncorrupt cop becoming commissioner? Barbara had been keeping an eye out for other Rogues, ignoring the green smoke slowly filling her vision both at home and of the scene, so she hadn’t entirely paid attention to what Condiment King was saying. 

Her phone rang and Barbara blinked, her sight of the scene snapping like a strand of spider web as she was suddenly forced into an apartment of green, swirling smoke. She grimaced and shut her eyes, reaching out and feeling along until she picked up her phone. She snapped it open and raised it to her ear. 

“Hello, Barbara Gordon here, who’s this?” she asked. There was a familiar chuckle on the other end and Barbara relaxed. 

“Did you not check the number before answering Babs? The ceremony’s over, I’m officially Commissioner now.”

Barbara chuckled. “I saw. I was watching on the television. Congratulations, Dad. This is a big day for you, huh?”

“Yeah it’s- it’s been incredible. I can’t believe this is real, you know? Anyways, just wanted to call ahead and let you know I ordered from that fancy Italian place you like to be delivered to the apartment. A little special splurge for a special occasion, you know?”

Barbara smiled softly and relaxed into the couch cushions, opening her eyes slightly and relaxing a little more as she realized the green smoke had faded some. Just enough for her to make out the apartment but it was still there. “You shouldn’t have, Dad. I was thinking of making something for you but it was a little early and I wasn’t sure when you’d be getting back.”

There was stunned silence on the other end for a moment before Jim chuckled. 

“I should’ve known my special little girl would want to do something special for me. How about you make dinner tomorrow, sweetheart? Or really, whenever you want to. I promise I’ll eat it no matter how burnt it is.” 

Barbara gasped in mock offense, placing a hand against her chest despite the fact that her dad couldn’t see what she was physically doing. “How dare? That was one time and it was hot dogs! We’ve never even had hot dogs since then! I wouldn’t burn food and then feed it to you, heck, you didn’t even eat those hot dogs!”

“Because you were trying desperately to throw them away and clear out the smoke by the time I got home. Once they were in the garbage, of course I wouldn’t eat them! But I still would’ve at least tried to eat them. After all, they were my little girl’s first attempt at making me dinner, you know.” 

Barbara huffed but smiled at the fond memories. She’d been so embarrassed by the incident. In her defense, she was twelve at the time and how was she supposed to know not to cook hot dogs in the oven at 400 degrees? Her only experience was seeing people put hot dogs on the grill, close it, leave them alone for a bit, and come back and rotate them on occasion. Now, she didn’t have a grill, but an oven was close enough, right? And it wasn’t like anyone had ever told her how hot the grill had to be to cook hot dogs, just that there had to be fire!

She’d done her best with what little knowledge she had and she would defend that to her dying day. 

“Anyways, I’m getting into the car to head home now. The delivery should get there before I do, so go ahead and accept it for me. Okay? Now I’ve gotta get driving if I want to enjoy dinner while it’s nice and hot, so I’m gonna hang up now. I love you sweetheart.”

Barbara smiled. “Love you too, Dad. See you soon.”

“See you soon!”

With a click the line went dead and Barbara relaxed, sinking into the couch cushions. She groaned and ran her hands over her face, rubbing at her aching eyes. 

“She didn’t do it,” she murmured to herself. 

The ceremony had gone mostly fine. Condiment King was far from one of the top listers and he hadn’t even gotten to do much of anything before Batman and Robin took him down. Things were…it was safe. Her dad was safe, Bruce and Jason were safe, Alfred was still safe in the manor…maybe Gotham had just been messing with her? With the growing dread for the ceremony? Maybe it was just…a practice round? To show her how easy it would be to keep Barbara on edge, paranoid of every shadow?

The doorbell rang and Barbara stood, moving quickly towards the door. A small smile built on her lips as the green smoke faded away even more, returning her vision to her. Perhaps…maybe things were actually looking up. 

She opened the door, absently noting the plastic bag full of food and such, but she froze when her eyes fell on abnormally pale skin and a wide grin accented by bright red lipstick. 

“Delivery,” Joker crooned, pressing a gun against her stomach. Barbara stiffened, eyes going wide and blood falling from her face. “Send your daddy dearest a message for me, would you?”

He leaned in close, enough that she could feel his warm breath brushing against her cheek as she stared into his wide eyes, pupils dilating randomly and flicking about looking at everything around him. 

“He needs to stay out of my business…or I’ll make things hurt.” Barbara stiffened at the hissing, melodic undertone on his final word, easily recognizing Gotham’s voice. She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud bang cut her off. She stilled and slowly looked down, eyes wide as she watched the blood begin to seep into her shirt. For a moment there was a still, silent moment where nothing moved aside from the bloodstain, expanding over her. 

And then the pain hit.

Barbara collapsed with a choked cry, hitting the ground with a thud as the Joker laughed and spun the gun on a finger, grinning down at her as she weakly pressed her hands to the bullet hole in an attempt to stem the bleeding just a bit. Slowing it at all would be better than letting herself bleed out entirely. Her legs and feet were beginning to go numb from shock and her fingertips tingled as Barbara fought to keep herself from panicking. 

She’d been shot before, there was no question of that. But those were all as Batgirl, when she had armor covering her body. When she was more likely to get shot or grazed in the arms or legs, not- not straight through the gut!

“Have fun~ little Gordon. Let your father know I said hi, will you?” The Joker pranced away cheerfully, vanishing into the shadows as though he’d never been there, leaving Barbara bleeding out on the ground in front of her door. She swallowed thickly and struggled to breathe through the pain, pushing everything back as she held her stomach. 

Cold hands carded through her hair and she stiffened, tears pooling in her eyes even as she snarled. 

“One down, one to go.”

Then there was the sound of footsteps approaching and Gotham was gone, as if she’d never even bothered to stop by, let alone card her hands through Barbara’s hair like she’d done when Barbara was much younger and struggling with a vision of what she’d seen. 

The footsteps halted and someone took a horrified gasp of air. Barbara shut her eyes weakly and fought back the tears that built in her eyes. 

“Babs? …BARBARA!” 

Her father raced forward, carefully leaning over her as he looked at her in horror. He whipped out his phone and began to call…someone, but Barbara’s vision and hearing were fading. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to drag one hand out from underneath herself and reach out to her father. He jerked at the feeling of her hand, warm with her own blood, landing on his knee. 

“Dad…” she whispered. His hands were on her, gently brushing her hair out of her face, but everything was slowing down, becoming fuzzy around the edges like she’d taken her glasses off and zoned out. Barbara felt her eyelids flutter shut, lashes brushing against her cheeks before finally everything went dark and it was all over. 

Paralyzed.

Turned out her legs hadn’t been going numb from shock, but rather from the bullet that had buried into her spinal cord.

It was from the waist down, according to the doctors. There was a possibility that with physical therapy she’d regain some use of her legs, but she’d never be able to walk or run like she used to. 

(It took everything in Barbara’s conscious mind to not burst into hysterical screaming and sobbing when they told her that. She- she’d never fly again. Never race Jason over the rooftops knowing that somehow Batman would inevitably be waiting for them at the finish line already, never be able to laugh as Dick tried to show her acrobatics to try and fail over video call, never stand on Wayne Enterprises looking over the city like it was hers in a way she’d never seen it before.)

Never. 

Dick had tried calling. He’d tried to reach out to her, as best he could. On one hand, Barbara knew that her radio silence worried him, that it made him feel like she was blaming him for what happened. That she was mad at him for not being here like Bruce or Jason were. Because he still hadn’t entered Gotham even after her accident. 

And soon he wouldn’t be able to reach out as, from the voice mails he left her, he’d soon be going on a mission with the Titan’s to space. 

It wasn’t fair to him, that she was not responding at all. Barbara knew it was her own actions that had gotten her in trouble with Gotham. That her words and acts had been what set off the eldritch entity. And she didn’t blame him, not for being in trouble, not when she knew that he had specifically tried to warn her to be careful of Gotham and he was in the same boat because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. 

But it still hurt.

That he wasn’t there, doing his best to help her in person the way the others were.

Sometimes, as she lay on the hospital bed, Barbara absently wondered what her punishment would be. Gotham had said ‘one down, one to go’ which implied that Barbara being hurt was punishment for one of them, but she hadn’t specified which one was being punished. But Dick himself had been the one to tell her that Gotham typically targeted the people around whoever she wanted to punish. 

In which case, Barbara being paralyzed was probably Dick’s punishment. 

A way to hurt him for not being there to save her. For trying to use and sway her against Gotham in a way the Lady would never tolerate. Barbara shut her eyes and allowed herself to slip into a restless sleep, medicine helping to drag her back down. 

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- >

A clock, with big red numbers, counting down.

0:10

“Which hurts more…forehand?”

Crack. 

A scream as metal impacted flesh and cracked the bone beneath.

“Or backhand?”

Crack.

A choked wheeze as ribs broke beneath the blow, blue eyes hazy with pain as the clown stood over him with a crowbar in hand. 

“Come now, Robin, I need an answer~!”

A whimper escaped from the figure in red, yellow, and green beneath him.

“Forehand?”

Crack.

“Or backhand?”

Crack.

Over and over, the clown beat down on the tied figure beneath him. Jason, because there was no one else it could be, curled up beneath the blows to try and protect himself as best he could. 

0:09

“This is boring…I would’ve expected it to be more fun,” the clown whined.

He studied the broken, bloody bird beneath him before kicking him in the ribs, earning a sharp cry from the boy. He laughed delightedly and stomped down on Jason’s broken leg, earning a bit off scream as Jason fought not to give the Joker the response he wanted. 

“Come on, sing for me, birdie! Isn’t that what Robins do, they sing? So sing!”

0:08

The sounds of a motorcycle engine roared to life as Batman swung himself onto the seat of the Batcycle, eyes worried and fearful as he gunned the engine. Snow flew up in a cloud behind him as it raced down the streets away from bright city lights.

“I’m coming, Robin, just hold on.”

0:07

“Okay, kiddo, I gotta go.” The clown turned back from the door to look at the figure laid out on the ground behind him. “It’s been fun though, right?”

The figure on the ground, curled up and shivering from pain and cold didn’t respond. 

0:06

Snow flew beneath the Batcycle’s wheels as it beelined for the warehouse, still too far to see what was happening or help the boy inside. 

0:05

“Please tell the big man I said hello.” Mad cackles echoed through the air as the door shut and the clown walked away, vanishing into the night. 

The boy opened his eye and dragged himself towards the door, a fiery determination to live burning in his eye as he set aside the pain emanating throughout his body. He tried to force himself to his feet but went limp for a moment, as though he’d blacked out. He came back a moment later and continued to drag himself closer to the door. 

0:04

The engine of the Batcycle was loud as it raced through silent, empty streets, dodging around abandoned cars and stray rubble littering the roads. Batman’s hands squeezed the handlebars tight enough that the leather was splitting underneath his grip and he held himself tight against the bike, desperately trying to get every little bit of speed on the snowy terrain. 

He raced up the hill towards the lone warehouse, the only structure that was lit up in the vicinity. Someone had been there recently. 

Someone was still there. 

0:03

Jason jangled the door handle, tugging weakly on it with a rising desperation when the door refused to budge. It was locked, from the outside, to ensure that the birdie was trapped in the cage. Jason slumped against the door and turned around, carefully prodding at his ribs and grimacing at the pain, making sure to take slow, shallow breaths. 

Beep.

He grunted as he leaned up against the door, forcing himself into a proper sitting position and ignoring the way his injuries screamed at him for it. 

Beep.

He looked up, blinking in confusion at the steady beeping that echoed from something in the warehouse. His eyes fell on the thick, black bomb with bright red numbers steadily counting down. His face paled and he froze, a deer caught in the headlights of an inescapable fate. 

0:02

The Batcycle roared up the hill, Batman leaping off as it crested the top, desperately racing towards the warehouse. His feet pounded through the snow, kicking it up behind him as he threw himself forward, cape billowing behind him.

0:01

Blue eyes closed and Jason took a slow, deep breath as he braced for what came next. 

0:00

The warehouse exploded right in front of Batman, flinging him back down the hill. He rolled at the bottom and narrowly dodged a piece of rebar that attempted to spear him to the ground. Smoke rose from the top of the hill, fire lighting the area in an evershifting glow. 

The man, no, the father of the birdie above, scrabbled up the hill, desperately climbing and crawling his way up the steep slope in an effort to get closer to the burning blaze. He darted towards the burning mess, pulling off his cowl and looking around with an expression of pure fear. 

“JASON!”

Something cracked and fell, drawing his attention. He rushed over and scratched at it, eventually dragging it up but there was nothing beneath it. He cursed and let go, turning away and looking over the rubble, searching for any remaining scrap of red, green, and yellow. 

“JASON!!”

The burning warehouse was heavy with the heat of fire and failure, burning up the man as he desperately pulled up his tech and checked the tracker function. A weak beeping sound dragged Bruce’s attention to a small pile of rubble. 

“Jason!”

He darted over and began throwing the bricks and metal beams off the small pile, digging underneath. He froze, when he reached the bottom, where a familiar red, yellow, and green suit lay empty on the ground. The tracker, tucked into the R on the chest beeped weakly at Batman as he slumped forward, hands gently, shakily, collecting the discarded suit. 

Bruce brought it to his chest and clutched it tight as he leaned forward and sobbed, tears falling down his face. 

“I’m so sorry, Jaylad. I was…too late.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- >

Barbara slowly blinked her eyes open as a tear slid down her cheek. “...J’sn?”

Something clattered to her side, drawing her attention to a wide eyed nurse staring at her in shock. “You’re- you’re awake!”

Barbara stared at her in confusion for a moment as the nurse hurried to the door and called down the hallway. 

“Doctor! Doctor, Miss Gordon is awake!”

Three months. 

She’d been in a coma for three months. 

The doctors hadn’t known what had put her into a coma since all her brain scans came out normal, but she’d been unconscious for the last three months. 

They may not have known what kept her in her coma, but Barbara did. 

When Bruce walked into her room, Barbara’s eyes scanned over him, taking in the deep shadows beneath his eyes, the messy, uncared for hair, and the stubble on his chin. He smelled like alcohol, bitter and sharp under his cologne and his skin was waxy and far paler than usual. She swallowed thickly. 

“Where’s Jason?”

The question hung in the air like a nuke falling from the sky between them. Bruce’s shoulders stiffened as soon as she’d finished speaking and his eyes had tightened, though he couldn’t hide the tears from her as she watched him, hope sinking in her chest. Bruce choked thickly and responded to her question softly. 

“He’s dead.”

Barbara stared at the blank wall across from her hospital bed blankly. The door was shut, the curtains were closed, and she’d barely said a word since Bruce had stopped by. Even her own father had barely managed to get her to talk to him. Jim was worried, thinking that she might’ve slipped into a depression because of her paralysis. He didn’t realize it wasn’t because of that, though it certainly wasn’t helping matters. 

The sound of footsteps passed by her room and her eyes flicked to the door, waiting for the security guard and the night nurse to pass. Once they had, she took a moment to breathe before closing her eyes. 

“I know you’re here,” she stated. A chill swept through the room and suddenly there were hands carding through her hair again, the same way they had since she was five years old. Barbara fought the urge to shudder in disgust and bat them away. 

“You called?” Gotham purred, nuzzling into Barbara’s hair. Barbara gritted her teeth. 

“...why?” Gotham paused, pulling back and tilting her head to study the girl in front of her. 

“Why what?” she asked in response, still brushing her fingers through Barbara’s hair. 

“Why did you kill him? Why did you make me watch as you killed Jason?!?” Tears finally poured from Barbara’s eyes as she opened them and glared at Gotham, who had paused and pulled her hands away from Barbara’s hair. The entity raised an eyebrow in apparent confusion. 

“Oh, darling, my little Oversight, did you think Jason’s death was your punishment?” she asked casually, as though she and Barbara were discussing the newest piece of tech Babs had gotten over a cup of Alfred’s tea. Barbara stared at Gotham in confusion. 

“It…it wasn’t?” she asked in confusion. Gotham hummed absently before vanishing from Barbara’s side and appearing in front of her, hovering in the air as though she were laying on her stomach. She reached down and poked Barbara, causing the girl to flinch as her bullet hole was jabbed none too softly. 

“Sweetheart, this was your punishment. Jason…Jason was for Richard.” Barbara stared at Gotham in shock. 

“What.”

Gotham shrugged and pulled back, tilting herself to the side slightly to study Barbara. “A punishment is something that should last. A message that sticks. For you? For you, it’s the fact that you will never again be able to go out into the field.”

Barbara stiffened. 

Oh. 

Oh no.

She hadn’t even considered what being paralyzed meant for her as Batgirl yet. 

She’d been so distraught over Jason’s fate that it hadn’t even occurred to her that she couldn’t go out on patrol anymore. 

“...no…”

“Yes~. You see, Barbie, you adore the feeling of connection. The feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself, of helping people. The freedom of flight as you race or grapple through the city at night, above and below the law at the same time, it’s exhilarating to you. So. How should I punish you? Well, I took that away. And I hurt your father at the same time because you know he’ll always blame himself for this. He was so excited to really make a change in the GCPD and now, for as long as he lives, he’ll have the fact that you were paralyzed to send a message to him hanging over his head. The perfect, long lasting punishment for you.” Barbara swallowed thickly. 

“And…Jason?” Gotham shrugged carelessly. 

“Richard has been away far too long. So, I hurt him by setting up a situation that would’ve been perfectly avoidable if only he’d been there. Set up a trap that is just a bit too much for Robin and Batman to handle, that will inevitably end poorly. If he were here, he could’ve stopped it. Jason wouldn’t have gotten hurt and Bruce wouldn’t now be quite so upset. All because precious little Richie was too scared to come back and now he’s missed a lot of chances to bond with his younger brother. It’s perfect! Family is one of the most important things to Richard, he’ll be beating himself up over this for the next decade.”

Barbara stared at Gotham in complete disbelief, tears welling in her eyes before spilling onto her cheeks. “You’d kill an innocent child over this? You killed Jason because Richard hasn’t visited Gotham enough?”

Gotham flashed her a sharp glare. “Richard is one of my Aspects, just like you are. He would do well to remember it and return to where he belongs, no more running away to the Titans to get away from me. You are both mine and I will do what I like to you and the people around you.”

Barbara swallowed thickly. “Bruce said you don’t hurt your Aspects.”

It was a weak denial, a pathetic plea, that only earned a cruel grin from Gotham. “Oh, darling, I hurt you every time you set foot on the field! Every bruise, cut, bullet hole, burn, that’s all me. I just won’t kill you or allow you to die. Everything else -including maiming and permanent wounds-” Gotham poked Barbara again in the belly, hand phasing through her flesh until Barbara swore she could feel Gotham poking her spine, “-is entirely fair game! I do prefer not to hurt you physically though, I will admit. It’s more fun to watch you break.”

Barbara cringed away from the thing still hovering over her, shivering as Gotham chuckled and eyed her like a cat toying with a mouse. Gotham’s smile softened slightly as she stared at Barbara, eyes almost becoming gentle as she stared at the terrified young woman beneath her. 

“Although, I will admit, you were never supposed to stay an active field agent.” Barbara stiffened. 

“What? What do you mean?” Gotham hummed. 

“Your sight has grown stronger over the years, Barbie. Did you really think that it wouldn’t start to affect you more in the field? Sooner or later you wouldn’t be able to keep track of where you are in favor of what the sight showed you. Sooner or later you would’ve been hurt because your mind was somewhere entirely different. It makes you a liability in the field. So perhaps this is just a turning point for you and you’ll become a better, stronger hero for it?”

Barbara glared venomously at the spirit hovering over her. “Don’t try to play you paralyzing me as something I should be grateful for. I will never forgive you for this.”

Gotham brushed away the bitter words with a wave of her hand. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before. You’re not the first to say that and you’re not going to be the last, my dear. But regardless, I do have other things to attend to, like saving my idiot Knight from killing himself. So, farewell for now, I might check up on you later!”

And like a thunderstorm, Gotham vanished as quickly as she appeared. Barbara relaxed, slumping into her pillows as tears built in her eyes. 

“...damn it.”

It was another three months before Barbara only had to come back for physical therapy, now that she’d been building up muscle and learning to use the wheelchair she’d been given. She’d wanted to use crutches, but was told that without any ability to use her legs they wouldn’t help as much as she wanted. So she was stuck in the chair. 

All day. 

Everyday. 

Except physical therapy. 

And it was particularly unusual for her to get visitors right at the end of her therapy sessions. Either her father came with her from the start, or Bruce might visit during the middle to oversee her progress. Someone coming to visit at the end was…unexpected. 

“Miss Gordon, should we let them in?” the nurse asked carefully. Barbara shrugged and pasted on a smile. 

“It’s fine, go ahead and let them in.” The nurse gave her one last worried look before opening the door and stepping out. Barbara was left blessedly on her own for a minute before the door opened again with a click. She turned to greet Bruce, or maybe Alfred but her voice caught in her throat at the sight of the sad blue eyes looking back at her. 

“...Dick?”

Dick smiled weakly. “Hey Babs, been a long time, huh?”

“What- what are you doing here?? I thought-” She cut herself off as pain flashed over Dick’s face and he closed his eyes for a moment. 

“Gotham…reached out to me. Told me about you questioning which punishment was for who.” Barbara’s eyes widened in horror. 

“She told you about Jason.”

Dick pursed his lips and silently nodded. Barbara stared at him in horror for a moment before Dick took a deep breath and spoke up again. “It’s…she was right. I don’t- I thought I couldn’t lose anyone in the family. That…that I could still be with you all, even if from a distance. But…Jason…I never got the chance to know my own baby brother because I was too cowardly to deal with her. To be here where I was needed. So I…I decided I couldn’t let that happen again. I have no guarantee that she won’t grow bored and kill all of you. And I would rather be here, enduring whatever the hell she throws at me, than be left behind with only fleeting memories of phone calls with all of you. I won’t- I can’t do that. Not again. Not when I barely remember Jason’s laugh. I- he deserved better. I won’t- I won’t fail my family. Not again.”

She was right about him. Family is the way to get to Dick, Barbara thought hopelessly. She swallowed thickly. 

“Are you alright? She hasn’t been…doing anything to you, right?” Dick grimaced in response to her question. 

“Not-not yet…”

“Not yet?” Barbara clipped anxiously. Dick grimaced. 

“Before…before I left all those years ago, she made a comment about maybe spending ‘more intimate time together’ when I was a bit older. So…I’m keeping an eye out. I’ll be careful.” Barbara watched Dick, taking in the slight nervous tremble in his hands. 

“Does Bruce know?” Dick’s head snapped up and his bright (inhumanly bright) blue eyes locked onto her. 

“No. No, Bruce- Bruce doesn’t know. He’s got…enough on his plate as it is. I can…I can take care of myself.” Barbara watched Dick carefully before nodding slowly. 

“Alright. I’ll...I’ll help keep an eye out, okay?” Dick nodded shakily. 

“Okay. That’s- yeah. I appreciate that, Babs.”

They trailed off into silence for a moment before Barbara finally spoke again. “Any…idea? On if I’m…what’s going on with Batgirl?”

Dick grimaced awkwardly. “Well…she’s been benched. For now. There’s…no guarantee she can come back at all with her injuries.”

Barbara bit back her first, bitter instinct. She swallowed, throat painfully dry, before speaking up again. “What if…what if she changed. Worked on…comms or digital assistance? Would- would that work?”

Dick’s eyes widened and for a moment a flicker of excitement, of hope, crossed his face and he tilted his head thoughtfully. “She’d need to put in a bit extra work to ensure she was better than what B’s currently at…but that- that might work. Would you- she still want to be called Batgirl in that case?”

Barbara stared at him consideringly before shaking her head. “No…no, let’s- let’s retire Batgirl. I…I can be…”

Barbara trailed off for a moment, hesitant to actually name herself lest she end up making the wrong choice. Invisible hands curled over her shoulders and she stiffened, fighting the urge to pull away and reveal Gotham’s presence to Dick, though he scanned the room as soon as she stiffened. 

“Oracle, my Oversight.”

Then the hands were gone, and the chill vanished from the air. Barbara took a deep breath to calm herself and consider the name. 

I’ll play into her hands for now. But at the end of the day, I’m the one who Sees, not her. I’ll find a way. To get back at her. To make her regret ever choosing us to hurt. But for now?

“Oracle. I think I’d like to be called Oracle.” Dick brightened. 

“Oracle it is then.”

Chapter Text

Gotham fought back snickers as she studied the small form in the alley below her. The small being, pale and insubstantial in a way only the dead could be, was attempting to jack the wheels off the Batmobile while Bruce was busy dealing with a suspect. 

And he was succeeding.

Now, Gotham could admit that she’d been drawn to the alley because of the lingering, nagging itch that meant one of the souls she’d marked hadn’t quite been absorbed the way it should have been, and she originally intended to fix that, but honestly? Looking at the little soul in question rolling away the second wheel he’d nabbed from the Batmobile?

She wasn’t entirely certain that she wanted to consume this tiny soul. 

Her smile faded as she took in exactly how thin the boy was. Whatever had killed him either wasn’t visible above the clothes or perhaps the soul genuinely didn’t realize he’d died and just got back to his feet to keep going. Either were possible, but it was always particularly tragic when the souls she encountered were children. 

Children didn’t tend to linger quite as often as adults. The younger a person was, the less likely they were to have some big reason to stick around when the peace of death awaited them. Even if in truth that ‘peace’ was just them ceasing to exist as Gotham consumed them to strengthen herself. They still never had to hurt again, never had to fear or go hungry. Not when they were dead. 

But considering the actions of the small child still cranking away at the third wheel of the Batmobile, she found it hard to believe that he had some lingering final business he needed to take care of. 

No, this child was a true Gothamite, one who spat in the face of death and walked it off. One with a will to live greater than their desire to rest, who forced themselves back to their feet no matter how hard it hurt. It was almost admirable, if it weren’t annoying to have a claimed soul just wandering around the streets. 

Gotham huffed to herself as she absently shifted uncomfortably, ignoring the itching feeling that dragged her straight to the child below. It was kind of like…having a bit of pasta sauce stick around your mouth. Normally you just wipe it off, but if you let it linger it starts to dry and becomes more painful to get off, especially if all you do to remove it is pick at it. Or perhaps peach fuzz would be a more accurate description, with the natural itchiness trying to prevent the fruit from being eaten. Every now and then, some of the fuzz would linger around the mouth or in the back of the throat and would make everything scratchy and itchy and just uncomfortable. 

She refocused on the child as he rolled the third tire into the alleyway, pausing to glance back at the Batmobile where it was suspended on jacks for a moment. Gotham leaned forward eagerly. 

Will he do it? Will he get greedy and go for all four knowing Batman can come back at any minute?

The boy glanced at the wheels beside him for a moment before hefting his tire iron and hurrying over to the fourth wheel, earning a delighted giggle from Gotham. Oh, she loved the ambitious ones! 

As he began to try and get the final tire off, Gotham considered him for a moment longer. Ambitious, but perhaps too much. Her eyes flicked towards where Batman was finishing up with his most recent suspect. 

Brucie had been…upset since Richard had left. Gotham felt her lip curl furiously at the reminder of the other creature. The fact that Richard had fled to ensure her claim couldn’t properly latch onto him was infuriating. Especially since he’d come close to returning a few times, but had managed to stop himself before getting any closer than Bludhaven. So close and yet so far, his instincts warring with the pull on his core. Still, Gotham had nothing but time to wait. If Richard wanted to play the long game, Gotham had no reason to be hasty. She was old, enough that she knew how to wait to get what she wanted. 

But regardless, Bruce had been more depressed since Richard left. Slower to head out, less focus dedicated to his work, and generally just kind of…faded since Richard had left. She had to wonder if naming Richard her Delight had been a bit too far, considering he seemed to have taken all of Brucie’s delight with him when he left. It was almost like he’d gone right back to the way he was before she’d given him Rich-

A grin lit up her face as she looked down, studying the features of the little ghost beneath her. Black hair, slightly faded blue eyes, decently fair skin, he was perfect. Just Brucie’s type. So long as he didn’t realize the child wasn’t living…

Batman was moving, returning towards the car while the child had only made it through about half of the lug nuts on the wheel. She only really had moments to consider what she should do before flicking her hand at the boy. A wave of energy flicked from her to him, and suddenly he seemed to solidify, color blooming on him in a way she associated with life. He was wearing a red hoodie, though it had looked brown previously. His hair actually looked like it had some warmth to it, likely a very, very dark brown instead of black, and his eyes were a much brighter blue than she’d expected. Not like Richard’s unearthly electric blue eyes, but more like the open sky at noon. 

He paused to stare at his hands for a moment in confusion before shaking his head and returning to getting the wheel off the Batmobile, right as Batman landed on the ledge above him. The vigilante paused, curiously assessing this new player before stiffening as Gotham manifested beside him, running a hand up his spine. 

“Brucie~ I think I have a new surprise for you!” Gotham purred. Bruce glared at her from beneath the cowl but she just grinned and gestured to the boy below. “He’ll make for a wonderful son, won’t he?”

Bruce stiffened and his eyes narrowed dangerously before he took a deep breath and looked back down at the boy, still hurriedly trying to take the final wheel off the Batmobile. “He will. To a normal family.”

“I think we both know that’s not what I meant,” Gotham purred. “He’s yours now, Brucie, take him home.”

Batman shot a glare at her. “I can’t just kidnap him-”

Gotham rolled her eyes and vanished, reappearing down next to the boy, causing him to startle and swing the tire iron at her. It passed through her as though he’d simply swung at a cloud of smoke, earning a slack jawed stare from the little ghost. 

“Hello there~!” Gotham cooed at him. She reached out and pinched his cheek, noting the way he flinched away from her touch. “Aren’t you adorable?”

“Who-”

“He’s adorable, isn’t he, Batman?” She lifted her eyes to where the Dark Knight had landed behind the boy. Immediately he turned and swung the tire iron again, catching Batman in the ribs with a loud thunk. Batman grabbed hold of the tire iron and yanked it out of the boy’s hands, earning a furious cry from the boy before he quailed beneath the Dark Knight’s glare. Gotham’s hands wrapped over the boy’s shoulders, ignoring the way he tensed at the unexpected contact, before she shoved him forward towards Batman. “And now he’s yours!”

Bruce caught the boy gently before he slammed into the vigilante and sighed, hand still gently rubbing at the boy’s shoulders and upper back despite his words. “I am not going to just kidnap someone because you told me to, Gotham.”

“Gotham? What the fuck do you mean???” The boy asked, head whipping to look back and forth between the two of them. Gotham cooed at the confusion on his face, lips curling in a victorious smirk. 

“Well, little one, I am the manifestation of Gotham. Which means, in this city, what I say goes. And now you are Batman’s son!” The boy bristled. 

“I don’t need a fucking father!” he spit. Gotham studied him for a moment, going silent in a way that had Bruce subconsciously pulling the boy closer to him, so he could protect the child if Gotham lashed out. 

“Well you two already seem like father and son to me,” she snickered, gesturing to where Bruce had his arm wrapped protectively over the ghost’s shoulder. He glanced down in surprise and stared at the child as if he’d never seen him before, completely unaware of what he’d done. “Oh. And Batsy?”

Bruce stiffened and looked at her warily. Gotham grinned in response. 

“I wasn’t asking. He’s your son now, maybe that’ll help you get over your other child running away from you.” Batman flinched guiltily and glared venomously at Gotham. She simply grinned and waved goodbye, vanishing into the night. Batman stood still for a minute, still holding the child to his side as he waited to make sure that Gotham was really gone. Then he sighed and released the boy, staring with dismay at his car with one wheel and apparent new son. 

“Are you okay?” The child stared at him with a do-you-THINK-I’m-okay look before speaking slowly. 

“Well, the apparent manifestation of GOTHAM ITSELF just decided to make me the child of one of Gotham’s most infamous individuals. All while I was trying to steal the tires off said infamous individual’s car. How do you think I am??” the kid drawled. Bruce sighed and moved to the alley, smoothly rolling the tires back towards the Batmobile. “HEY! You can’t- it was a lot of work gettin’ those things off!”

Batman gave him a deadpan stare, reminding the boy that these are HIS fucking tires. The boy flushed and shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, glaring at the ground beside him. Bruce took in the striking thinness of the boy’s face and sighed to himself. 

“Gotham may have decided to proclaim you my child…but is that something you want?” The boy stared at him incredulously. 

“I- what the fuck am I supposed to say to some shit like that??? Yes? No? Will it get me off the streets? Will I have to worry about putting food on the table? Do I get an allowance? Do you actually live in a cave because if you live under Gotham in the caves, I might actually pick the streets. People go crazy down there and your sanity is still questionably up in the air.” 

“Yes, it’ll get you off the streets, no there’s no need to worry about putting food on the table, if you want an allowance that’s available, and no, I do actually have a house to live in. The Batcave is purely for Batman related work.” The boy stared at him incredulously for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. 

“So you’re an actual fucking person?? Like, you’re not just a demon of darkness and vengeance like everyone thinks, you are actually a human??” Bruce nodded slowly in response. The child stared at him for a moment before his eyes widened incredulously. “If I go with ya am I gonna learn your secret identity??”

“Probably,” Bruce grumbled. It was annoying that Dick had figured out his secret identity, but Bruce had a feeling that if he didn’t tell this kid, his apparent new son, then Gotham would. And it would probably be better for him if he could at least control how the boy found out. 

“And- and you won’t hurt me? No- no hitting, punching, none of that?” Jason asked suspiciously. Bruce knelt down on the ground and gently reached forward, pulling Jason’s hands into his own cupped gloves. 

“I don’t hurt children. Not as Batman, and not in my civilian identity. I promise you.” The boy stared at him, shivering slightly from the cold. Bruce gently rubbed at the boy’s hands, feeling the way they were freezing even through his insulated gloves. The boy must’ve been out all night, and carrying around a freezing tire iron certainly didn’t help things if Bruce had to guess. “I’ll keep you safe.”

The boy sniffled and wiped at his face angrily, drying his tears and the slight snot dripping from his nose on his sleeve. 

“What’s your name?”

Blue eyes met Bruce’s and the boy sniffled for a moment before speaking. 

“Jason. Jason Todd.”

Jason was certainly an…unexpected entry to the family. Alfred had been initially confused and somewhat displeased at the idea of Bruce replacing Dick with a near identical copy, but he settled once he found out that Gotham had almost forced Jason onto Bruce. Her interference was well known and hated by most members of the family, though they did their best to keep the animosity they felt from Jason. 

The boy was cautious, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to be right back out on the streets. Even when Bruce had assured him multiple times that he wasn’t going back to the streets, Jason didn’t believe him. 

The getaway bags in his room were pretty obvious, at least to Bruce. Bags stuffed with canned food, protein bars, bottled water, and clothes. Bruce slipped several twenties and fifties into the bags whenever Jason was out at school, though he was fairly certain that Jason was aware of what he was doing if the way he kept glancing at Bruce suspiciously after every time he added funds to the bug out bags was anything to go by. 

Surprisingly, or perhaps not considering he came from Crime Alley, school was one of the biggest things convincing Jason to keep up the act of being Batman’s son. Being the adopted son of the richest man in Gotham, even if he was mocked and insulted daily for being a former street rat, meant that Jason had access to some of the highest education opportunities available in Gotham. Hell, Bruce had even offered to sign Jason up for online schooling if he really wanted to, but Jason had shut that down quickly, saying he wasn’t about to let a few ignorant rich kids scare him away from getting his education. 

“I’m not going to let those pathetic, whiny trust fund fuckers scare me away from getting a quality education, Bruce! Do you have any idea how many kids in Crime Alley or the Narrows would kill for a chance like this, bullying and ignoramus bitches aside? Because it is not a small number!” Jason ranted, pacing angrily through Bruce’s study as the older man watched him. Jason huffed and pointed a finger accusingly at Bruce. “You gave me the opportunity, and now I am seizing it and going wring it of all its worth whether you like it or not! Or is this because their parents complained about me to you? Because I made fucking sure that I didn’t lay a hand on them. Hell, I didn’t even spit on them, though I was very fucking tempted to!”

Bruce stiffened, straightening slightly. “What? Why would their parents be reaching out to me?” he asked cautiously. Jason huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Some of your fucking neighbor kids tried to mock me on the stairs to the building, calling me low class trash and that someone should call pest control because a rat had entered the premises. I think they were hoping to piss me off enough that I’d try to attack them and get, I don’t know, expelled or fucking suspended at the very least. They were not expecting me to start insulting them, their parents, and their fucking worthless ass grandparents via Shakespearian insults and big words I don’t think their tiny brains understood. Like bescumber or ructabunde or flagitious. And I specifically remember calling the leader of the group a quisquilian, fissilingual individual who was also excerebrose.” Bruce blinked for a moment, before taking a breath and sighing through his nose. 

“And that means…”

“That he was a worthless bag of hot air with a forked tongue and no brain? Roughly, anyway. Pretty sure the dumbass had no clue what any of those words meant since he just fucking stammered that I was your most recent charity case before leading the rest of his lackeys inside the building. But I’m pretty sure that if he can actually remember how to pronounce those words and repeat them to his parents or look them up, you’ll be getting a phone call. Then again, the whole group probably doesn’t want to admit to their precious mommies and daddies that they got their asses verbally handed to them by the so-called street rat. Take that, fuckers!” Jason said with a vicious grin. 

“Language, Master Jason,” Alfred stated. 

Bruce and Jason both jumped, turning to stare at Alfred with wide eyes as he set a tray with tea and cookies on Bruce’s desk. He straightened and turned to peer at Jason carefully, assessing the boy who twitched uncomfortably under his stare. Then Alfred offered a small smile and nod. 

“Well done, however, Master Jason, on not only not escalating the situation and still ending up victorious. I’d received reports that something happened before school began this morning, but was not entirely appraised of the ending. It’s very nice to hear that you sufficiently put the upstarts in their place,” Alfred commented absently, pouring a cup of tea for Bruce and Jason as he spoke. “You are, after all, a Wayne now. And despite Master Bruce’s infamous reputation, neither of his parents ever let anyone get away with tarnishing the Wayne name. There’s a reason the Wayne’s are the most famous family in Gotham. Lady Martha’s tea parties and grasp over the Gotham elite was well known. Thomas tended to defer to her, but if anyone challenged Martha’s honor or capability, Master Thomas was the first to rise and demand a duel of honor.”

Bruce choked on his tea, staring up at Alfred with wide, shocked eyes. “He what??”

“Yes, a traditional duel, too. He sent well over thirty men to the hospital with his flintlock, and they couldn’t even hire ‘the best doctor in Gotham’ because it was a conflict of interest,” Alfred said smugly as he handed Jason his teacup. Jason stared at him for a moment before looking over at Bruce for help. 

Bruce however, was still struggling to breathe from the shock of learning that his father had dueled multiple people and sent them to the hospital over insults to his mother. Alfred smirked at Jason slightly as Bruce tried to regain himself.

“Master Thomas was a doctor, you know.” 

Jason blinked for a moment, tilting his head slightly before his eyes widened in shock and a devilish grin spread across his face. “Oh. Oh. They couldn’t hire the best doctor in Gotham because they’d been put in the hospital by the best doctor in Gotham!”

He giggled delightedly as Alfred smiled softly down at him. Bruce stared between the two of them, whipping his head back and forth in shock. Something in Alfred’s heart sank and cracked slightly at the realization that this was the first Bruce was hearing of those incidents. 

Did I not tell him? Haven’t I told him of his parents before?

Apparently not, if the way Bruce was reacting was an indication to go off of. Thinking back on it, Alfred wasn’t surprised. It hadn’t taken long between Martha and Thomas being murdered before Alfred was training Bruce to become Batman. They were still grieving, both still unsure how to progress together. And then, when his training was finished and they maybe could’ve discussed his parents when the grief was less fresh, Bruce had disappeared to begin training elsewhere. 

And when he’d come back, he’d immediately thrown himself into becoming Batman. 

There had simply been no real quiet moment where Alfred could talk to him. Tell him stories of his parents, reminders of when Bruce and Alfred’s lives had been bright with joy and love. 

He pursed his lips and set it aside for the moment, planning on taking some time later to speak with Bruce. Perhaps they’d schedule some time for Bruce to finally sit down and properly grieve his parents, no more of this running himself ragged around the city hunting down criminals in a desperate effort to make up for his parents deaths. 

It wasn’t healthy, not just for Bruce, but now for his two precious children. Dick and Jason deserved a father that could grieve properly. 

“However, young Master, I do believe you owe the swear jar fourteen dollars.”

“What???” Jason shrieked. Alfred raised an eyebrow at him. 

“In this house, every time you swear you must put a dollar in the swear jar. I counted fourteen swears in your rant to Master Bruce about your confrontation with the young upstarts, so that’s fourteen dollars. It’s in the kitchen with the bright green label and a few dollars already inside from Master Bruce and young Master Richard both. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to spot, but feel free to put them in whenever you please. Now then, I believe I’ll begin making dinner for tonight, so if either of you need me, I will be in the kitchen downstairs.” And with that, Alfred left the room, leaving Bruce and Jason staring after him. 

“I swear he teleports,” Jason muttered once he was certain Alfred was gone. Bruce sighed, reaching out and snagging one of Alfred’s cookies to eat. 

“I’m pretty sure he just has a sixth sense for if or when he’s needed somewhere. And then he shows up.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

“And how come you didn’t spot him before he announced himself?” he asked, mildly annoyed and mostly curious. If he could learn stealth from someone that even Batman himself couldn’t detect…

Bruce sighed. “I was distracted by your rant and Alfred has always been stealthy. Even when I was a child, I remember sneaking into the kitchen, double and triple checking that he wasn’t there, but the second I tried to lay a hand on the cookies he’d been baking, he’d appear out of thin air like he’d been there the whole time and was just invisible. I got in trouble so many times because of that.” 

Jason grinned. “Wish I could’ve seen that. The big, bad Batman getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Bet if we did a photoshoot of something like that it’d blow up online.” He snickered at the mental image and Bruce smiled fondly. 

He certainly hadn’t meant to get another son, not after Dick had left out of the blue, but…

It wasn’t bad. 

It really wasn’t.

“No.”

“B, come on-”

“No, Jason, and that’s final. You are not going out as Robin,” Bruce growled as he pulled on the Batsuit. Jason glared mulishly at him before huffing. 

“People are starting to notice, B. Robin’s been absent for weeks now and the fu-ricking Gotham Gazette wrote a story on it. People are wondering what happened. Some are suggesting that Robin died in the line of duty and Batman’s just continuing on like nothing happened. You need a Robin. At least for appearances so none of the Rogues start to suspect anything!” Jason stated, glaring challengingly at Bruce. 

“Robin is Dick’s vigilante identity, Jason. Robin is still active, he’s just not active in Gotham. I am not giving you a title that isn’t mine to give, appearances or not. If you become Robin, then it’ll be because Dick gave it to you. Understood?” Jason groaned, throwing his head back and letting his arms fall to dangle limply at his sides. 

“But Dickiebird hates me!” he protested. Bruce sighed, rubbing at his temples. 

“Dick does not hate you. He’s just- he…” Bruce trailed off awkwardly, recalling the first video call he’d had with Dick after Jason had joined the family. 

“Hey, B! Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Dick was smiling, though there was an undercurrent of discomfort and guilt in the way his smile was more hesitant than Bruce was used to. He didn’t like seeing Dick smile that way, like he was expecting Bruce to yell or growl at him. So instead he rallied himself and spoke normally, spoke as Bruce, Dick’s adoptive father, rather than as Batman.

“Yeah…it has been a while. How…how have things been with you?” Bruce asked hesitantly. Dick huffed and rolled his eyes, shooting Bruce a mock disappointed look. 

“I think you know very well, B, considering that there’s a new tower built specifically for my team here in San Francisco. Also, a T shape? Really?”

Dick asked, voice fond and amused. Bruce huffed and shrugged. “You are called Teen Titans, after all. A T shaped building felt very…fitting.”

“And structurally unstable, but I suppose-”

Dick cut off sharply, eyes latching onto something going on in the Batcave behind Bruce. His smile froze on his face, still present but with slightly sharper teeth than normal. Bruce still hadn’t figured out what exactly Dick was, even with the DNA analysis. Mostly because his DNA came back as human, like he actually was a normal child, but Bruce wasn’t stupid. There was definitely something inhuman about his son, but everyone was pretending they didn’t know about it at the moment. 

“B? Who is that?”

Bruce turned to look, pausing at the sight of Jason, tire iron thrown over his shoulder freezing under Bruce’s stare. Bruce sighed, fighting the urge to grumble and groan as Jason straightened his spine, stiffened his shoulders, and tilted his jaw up slightly in a silent cry of defiance. “Jason…what are you doing?”

“Wheels on the Batmobile need some checking out,” Jason bluffed. “Who’s that on the Batcomputer?”

Bruce shot Jason a look that said I-know-what-you’re-doing and Jason just smirked in response. He glanced back, noting absently that Dick’s smile had completely fallen when he studied Jason, who slowly approached the computer screen. 

“Dick, this is Jason. Jason, this is Dick. Also known as Robin.” Jason raised an eyebrow and gave an appraising glance at the vigilante on the screen. 

“So you’re the Boy Wonder himself, ah? Don’t seem like much to me.” Dick grinned in response, though Bruce stiffened slightly. There were far too many teeth, sharp and dangerous in Dick’s smile for it to really be called that. Really, it was far more like a snarl than a smile, but his lips were still curled upwards in the appearance of a smile. 

“And you are…” 

Dick tapped his chin thoughtfully before shaking his head and shrugging, an easy smile on his lips. 

“Sorry, I don’t know you. Are you someone important?”

Jason bristled in response, but he was cut off by Bruce speaking. “Gotham gave him to me, Dick. The same way she gave me you.”

Dick’s smile vanished and he turned careful, considering eyes onto Jason. Then his glance flicked back to Bruce. 

“I need to think on this.”

The call cut out, ended on Dick’s side and Bruce let his shoulders sink slightly. He’d figured that there was no easy way to break Jason’s presence to Dick, but he’d certainly been hoping for a slightly happier introduction. 

But perhaps it wasn’t meant to be. After all, when looking at the situation from an outsider’s perspective, Bruce couldn’t blame Dick for being angry. 

On one hand, if Bruce had willingly brought Jason to the family, then it would’ve been like he was replacing Dick. With the matching black hair and blue eyes of the boy it would only be too easy to make that assumption. 

On the other hand, with Gotham involved and throwing another kid into Bruce’s lap, that now brought up all the issues associated with Lady Gotham. And Dick, especially in the months since he’d been gone, had never been more vocal about his dislike of Gotham herself. 

It was incredibly concerning and frankly, Bruce was just glad that the situation hadn’t devolved into Dick cursing him out for replacing him with an identical kid and abandoning him. Perhaps the recently constructed Titans Tower had been what reinforced that Bruce wasn’t abandoning Dick.

Thank goodness for small mercies.

No, Dick didn’t hate Jason. He hated that Bruce had been forced to take in another child, especially by Gotham when he’d been so vocal about his disregard for her. Of course, it certainly made things awkward between the two of them as Dick tried not to let his feelings for Her reflect on his behavior with Jason. 

And that was without even taking into account the long distance aspect of their relationship. Dick wasn’t actively hostile towards Jason, just…uncomfortable with him.

“What if I made up my own vigilante identity? You know? Became a new hero? Then I could follow you and help and you couldn’t say anything about it!” Jason said with a grin. Bruce stiffened and shot a look at Jason, who flinched in response. Bruce shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and a moment to slow his heartrate, which had gone from normal to oh-shit-another-one-of-my-kids-is-threatening-to-slip-out-of-the-manor-to-fight-crime-at-night. No, he’d had enough of that with Dick. He was not about to let a second child risk his life fighting the Rogues of Gotham. 

“NO, Jason. You are going to stay here at night, in the manor, where it’s safe,” he stressed to his son. Jason bristled, eyes narrowing dangerously. The light from the Batcomputer highlighted his face, casting the shadows deeper under his eyes and emphasizing the gauntness that still hadn’t fully left Jason’s skin yet. 

“I grew up in Crime fucking Alley, Bruce. You think I don’t know how dangerous the city can get at night? Because believe me, I fucking do. You’re the one who grew up spending his nights tucked in bed as if nothing was going on outside the walls of your house. I’m the one who had to barricade the door and block the windows to make sure no one got the bright idea to try and rob my mom’s house! And then, once I got kicked out of the house, I was the one who had to hide in dumpsters, bury myself in trash, scavenge and steal for every meal! I know how fucking dangerous and horrible it is out there, Batman, but I also got the chance for a better life that most of the other kids like me will never see! You gave me that chance, so I’m going to use it one way or another to try and make others' lives better. You gave me a chance for better, and I want to use that chance to help people. Way I see it? You can help me help them and keep me safe, or you can try to keep me here and not be there when I really need you. So which is it gonna be?” Jason challenged, glaring dangerously at Bruce. 

“Wow…you really get the weirdest kids, don’t you Bruce?”

Bruce stiffened and whirled around, eyes wide as he took in the sight of Alfred standing next to the Batcomputer, unimpressed eyebrow raised, finger still lingering over the call button, and Dick grinning down at Bruce and Jason from the main screen. 

“Two kids who want to run around half naked in Gotham fighting criminals? You sure know how to pick ‘em!”

Dick teased, grinning at Bruce and Jason. His smile faded slightly as he turned to look at Jason, becoming something more hesitant and delicate. Jason relaxed slightly, anger fading into wariness as he looked at his older brother’s visage on the screen. 

“Chum?” Bruce asked, glancing at the empty room behind Dick. Then he paused, studying Dick a bit more closely. His uniform was…different. Gone was the red, yellow, and green ensemble that Dick had made so beloved in Gotham. Gone was the cape and shirt, and even if Bruce couldn’t see it, he had a feeling the panties were gone too. Instead, what Bruce could see of his son’s outfit was a long sleeve black leotard with bright blue accents in the shape of a V. Or…no. A bird in the shape of a V, blue lines stretching down to Dick’s gloved hands. “What’s going on?”

“Master Richard requested a video call to make an announcement, I believe,” Alfred stated, stepping away from the computer. Bruce shot him a confused look before returning his attention to Dick, who smiled hesitantly. 

“Dick? What is it?”

“I’ve…decided to take up a new hero name.” 

Bruce blinked in shock, eyes wide and confused. 

“You- why?” he asked incredulously. Dick shrugged. 

“Robin is…Robin is Batman’s partner. And I haven’t exactly been a very good partner as of late.”

“Chum, that’s-”

“I wasn’t finished, B. More than being Batman’s partner or not…I think I need to move on. I’m growing up, B. And Robin…I don’t think Robin is who I want to be forever. I love Robin, don’t get me wrong, I really do. It’s a connection to my parents and an inspiration in Gotham…but I feel like it’s not who I should be forever. I want to move, to explore, to see everything else the world has to offer and Robin? I think Robin should stay in Gotham. Which is why I’ve chosen a new name and a redesign.”

Bruce stared at his eldest son, the first unexpected child he’d acquired. He didn’t regret getting Dick, even if the method he’d arrived at Wayne manor certainly wasn’t usual. (Though perhaps Gotham was building up to a pattern, he’d have to keep an eye on that.) Dick had brought Bruce out of his spiral of hopelessness, when he’d finally realized exactly how little power he had in comparison to Gotham. She held all the cards, all the knowledge, and he was nothing to her but a moment of entertainment. Bruce could admit in hindsight that he’d been spiraling, badly. 

And then Dick had appeared, bright and cheerful and mischievous. He’d left Bruce reeling and whipping from one moment of confusion to another as Dick pranced and danced around Bruce’s life. He swung off the chandeliers in the foyers and ballrooms. He did handstands and slid down the railings on every staircase he could find. He desperately begged for sugary, unhealthy treats no matter how often Bruce and Alfred tried to tell him that he needed a healthy diet. He was bright and hopeful and everything Bruce had needed at that time. He was someone that Bruce had come to love and adore, someone he worried about and kept an eye on just to make sure he was safe. Even when Dick had left, with no explanation truly given to Bruce or Alfred, they’d accepted it and moved on. 

And now.

He was saying that he was putting down the Robin mantle?

Taking on a new name?

“What…what did you pick?” Dick smiled fondly at Bruce before speaking. 

“Nightwing. I’m…I’m Nightwing now. It’s from an old Kryptonian myth about a deity sent to hunt the darkness and evils that hid in it. It seemed…fitting, I suppose.” 

Bruce nodded, feeling a bit choked up as he looked at his son. Was he overly happy it was a Kryptonian myth? No. Dick had loudly pronounced Superman as his favorite hero since he’d actually learned of the alien hero, and NO, Alfred, Bruce was NOT jealous about it. But if the name and the meaning behind it made Dick happy, then Bruce would be happy for him. 

“It suits you, chum,” he murmured. Dick shrugged slightly, cheeks flushed just enough for Bruce to know he was slightly embarrassed. Then Dick paused and glanced back at the screen, eyes flicking to where Jason still stood. 

“There IS one issue though…about what will happen to Robin. Since I’m putting down the Robin title and all.”

Bruce tilted his head curiously. Where was Dick going with this line of-

He stiffened, head whipping to look back at Jason, who met his eyes and smirked evilly. When he looked back at the screen, Bruce realized that Dick was giving him the exact same look.

Did they plan this???

Even Alfred was smiling slightly. He’d politely turned his face away to hide his amusement, but Bruce knew that gleam in his eye, dammit!

“So! Jason, Jaylad, Little Wing! I~ have a request for you!” 

Dick was practically bouncing in place on the screen, shit eating grin on his face even as Bruce pointed at him. 

“No, Dick. Don’t you dare!” Ignoring Bruce, Dick continued speaking with a grin. 

“I would like for you to become Robin after me!” 

His words hung in the air of the Batcave.

For Bruce it was a bell toll of despair. 

For Jason though?

It was a victorious trumpeting cry. 

“I would be honored, Dickiebird!” His grin was hurting his cheeks at this point, but it only grew further as Bruce buried his face in his hands. Dick was cackling outright now, laughing at his father’s despair. “I will be making some alterations to the costume, though.”

Dick’s gaze snapped back to Jason and he pouted, whining slightly as he spoke. 

“What? Why? What’s wrong with my Robin uniform?”

Jason raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “I’m not wearing panties and ankle boots in Gotham, you insane fool. I can tolerate shorts for the sake of the spirit of the Robin outfit, but I draw the line at panties. And also, how many times have you had to trudge through the sewers and flooding streets in ankle boots? Yeah, no, I’ll take a pair of reinforced rain boots, thanks.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I always had to REALLY scrub down my legs whenever it rained or we went in the sewers. I’m NOT getting sick from whatever filth was down there, no way.”

Dick shuddered at the memory of the missions where he’d ended up having to clean out his boots when they got back to the Batcave. Honestly, he could admit he should’ve changed them a while ago, but he’d never really wanted to alter the design so late into his time as Robin, sewage surrounding his feet or not. So he’d just powered through and ignored it. 

Luckily he’d fixed those issues in his new Nightwing suit, but the memories would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

Jason smirked at him before turning to shoot a victorious look at Bruce. “Guess this means I’ll be joining you out on the streets either way, B!” 

Bruce stared at him silently for a moment before sighing and putting his head in his hands. 

“Not without training first,” he weakly argued. Jason grinned victoriously, Dick laughed, and Alfred (the traitor) huffed with amusement, abandoning Bruce to his fate of having his kids run around fighting crime at night in Gotham. 

Karma, as far as the Gentleman was concerned.

Jason took to Robin like a fish takes to water or a bird to the skies. Even Bruce could admit that he was good at it in a way that Dick hadn’t been. Dick had almost always been putting on a performance as Robin, whether that was in the form of his cheerful confidence or his distractions to keep victims safe and calm until the police arrived. But the problem was, it was an act. He certainly grew into the confidence and Bruce could say with certainty that the longer he acted as Robin the more understanding and sympathetic he became towards the victims, the more real his acts became, but Jason never had to act. 

And Jason was kind in a far more rough way that most Gothamites reacted positively to. Dick had been kind in a way that was too suspicious to the regular Gothamites, too like the sort of kindness one could expect in Metropolis. Not Gotham. 

On the other hand, Jason was the one to pass work fliers and ‘Unionizing In The Workforce’ to the goons whenever they got put in a holding cell or were left waiting for the police to arrive after Bruce and Jason beat them into the ground. Jason was the one who ripped off so many capes to give to assault victims that Bruce considered just altering the Robin uniform so it didn’t have a cape anymore. But he couldn’t deny that the victims often seemed calmer and felt safer with a tiny bright yellow cape to wrap around themselves and maintain their modesty. It was Jason who carried dozens of protein and granola bars whenever he went out to pass to the other street kids, giving them just a bit of food that they knew was safe. 

Jason’s kindness was rough, the same way Gotham’s kindness and concern was rough when she dropped a kid in Bruce’s lap in an effort to help him feel better. 

And the Gothamites adored him for it.

Because this wasn’t the naive hero who followed Batman around and reassured them that ‘everything was going to be okay’ or ‘it’s over now, you’re safe’. This was the Robin that stared them down and told them ‘Make sure you carry pepper spray…or a knife. Just in case’ and ‘well, this particular drama-fest is over for now, you might want to scamper home to make sure another doesn’t spring up tonight, yeah?’. It was honest in a way that Gothamites appreciated, though they’d never admit it out loud. 

As for Jason?

Jason loved being Robin. 

There was a joy to him whenever they went out that Bruce rarely saw outside of their patrols and one he couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen on Dick’s face. The boy would laugh and shout freely as they grappled throughout the city, despite Batman chiding him for it multiple times. It gave away their position…but he couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at his lips whenever Jason laughed and told him to ‘lighten up, B!’. Couldn’t help the way his heart raced and pounded in his chest as he and Jason played tag across the rooftops of Gotham. 

Which of course meant it was time for the universe to kick Bruce’s teeth in.

Jason stared incredulously at the piece of paper held in his trembling hands. The sheet was yellow with age and some of the writing had faded, but it was still clear enough for Jason to recognize his own birth record. 

And to recognize that the name where Mother sat on the paper was not Catherine Todd, the only mother he’d ever grown to know. 

“...why are you giving me this?” Jason whispered, staring at the paper in his hands. A cold hand cupped his cheek and tilted his head up until he was looking at the (fake, fake, something’s wrong, RUN) smile and toxic green eyes staring down at him. 

“Because you deserve to know, baby…I think it’s important for you to know that you still have a living parent out there, don’t you?” Jason stiffened, eyes going wide and filled with a delicate, desperate hope. Gotham had to bite back the cruel grin that wanted to desperately stretch across her face at the sight of Jason’s hope. The boy had always wanted a parent’s love, and while he had gotten that from Catherine and Bruce, they still weren’t enough. Bruce wasn’t related to him and had been forced to care for Jason by Gotham herself, and Catherine had lost herself to the drugs, eventually relying on Jason to obtain more cash for drugs and for other care as she worsened in her addiction. 

The boy loved both of his parents, but he desperately wanted to have a parent that would drop everything for him. Wanted that biological connection and the strand of hope that came with it, suggesting that maybe his parent would properly love him this time. Would sweep Jason into her arms and sob with relief that her baby was returned to her. 

“I love Bruce, my dear Prince, but he can so often…set things aside, right? He only really seems to care when you’re in the mask, doesn’t he? Missing plays and theater meetings in favor of hunting down murderers and thieves, ordering you around both in and out of the mask, it can get so exhausting doesn’t it? He ignores the people he’s supposed to care for outside of the mask and it’s lonely, isn’t it? Especially since Richard still hasn’t even bothered to come visit you…”

Jason flinched and his shoulders hunched slightly at the reminder of Dick’s constant absence. Merely thinking about her Performer had Gotham’s hands trembling with rage and her eyes flaring slightly at the reminder of his desperate escape attempt. Then her eyes fell on Jason again and she fought to keep her smile soft and understanding rather than cruel and victorious. 

Richard had run away in a last ditch effort to free himself from her leash and cage. 

And now?

Well…

Now she would let him hang himself on that distance. 

He wouldn’t be quite so eager to leave once this little birdie left the nest…not when Richard found out exactly what had happened to the little birdie. 

Even better, in his attempt to avoid her, Richard had unintentionally alienated his new little brother. Even after giving Jason the Robin uniform it was still all too easy for Gotham to poke at Jason’s sore spots. The two empty seats saved in every performance or play under the desperate wish that Bruce and Dick would come to watch him, the missed phone calls when both were ‘too busy to talk’ even if they weren’t actually out in their vigilante costumes, and of course, the too empty manor where a little boy stayed most of the time. 

Alfred was kind, but he wasn’t what Jason needed. What Jason longed for. 

And now the other two would never be able to forget all the moments they’d left him alone. Richard, her little Performer, would rue the day he left Gotham and his family behind. 

Gotham couldn’t wait.

“Perhaps this could be a chance, Jason,” she purred, gently stroking his hair. He shivered and shot her a confused look. “Perhaps…if you meet her, maybe she could take care of you? Love you in a way that the others might not be able to? It’s up to you, of course.”

Jason stared at the piece of paper in his hands. “Would…do you think if I asked Bruce-”

“Asked Bruce? Well- sorry, I suppose it’s not my place to talk…” Gotham interrupted, before cutting herself off and covering her mouth with a gloved hand, feeling the smirk creep up on her lips when he couldn’t see them. She turned away slightly, as though apologetic, while Jason stiffened. 

Hook.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. 

“I really shouldn’t influence your decision, baby, if you want to talk to Bruce first, that’s your choice,” Gotham soothed, eyes flicking away from Jason as if in discomfort. He bristled at the interpreted insult to his choices, glaring at her in annoyance. 

Line.

“What? What are you saying about Bruce?” Gotham paused, shooting guilty looks towards Jason.

“Well, it’s just…you know how paranoid he can be sometimes, especially about new people reaching out claiming they’re connected to members of the family. Most people who reach out to him claiming to be family are looking for something…and even if you brought it up first, you know he’d just go digging for any sort of bad history…no matter why their history ended up that way,” Gotham commented with a sigh. 

She watched giddily as Jason turned to look back at the paper in his hands consideringly. He and Bruce had fought a few times about exactly how deep Batman’s background checks tended to be, how invasive they could get. For Jason to try to imagine letting Batman do that to his own mother…

Jason straightened his shoulders and jutted out his chin defiantly. 

“Well…Bruce doesn’t need to know everything…not yet at least,” he grumbled. He stared down at the paper again, missing the wide, cruel smile that covered Gotham’s face. Her red lipstick was smudged in long lines up her cheeks and her skin had gone gray with death. Or perhaps it was ash, worn as a foundation over her skin. 

Sinker!

She smothered the giggles and crowing laughter bubbling in her chest, shoving the urge down with a muted thought of patience. If she had laughed, it would’ve been the same as the mad cackles from a recently escaped clown. But she didn’t laugh, instead reaching forward to put a reassuring hand on Jason’s shoulder. 

“I trust your decision, Jason.” 

He preened under her praise, completely oblivious to how perfectly he’d been manipulated. He carefully folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. 

“I should…I should be getting home. Thanks…for this,” Jason said, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Gotham smiled serenely and nodded back at him.

“Of course…be safe getting back, Jason.” She waved at him as he left before vanishing into the shadows and reappearing in a dark room. 

Curled in the corner, hands in his bright green hair and laughing hysterically even as tears streamed from his eyes, sat a pale figure that almost glowed in the pitch black room. 

“Oh, my precious little Clown, why do you cry?”

Crazed, wild eyes looked up at her with a desperate hunger, but he didn’t dare approach as she smiled. 

“I only put you here in time out because I couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t try something before I’d arranged all the pieces, pookie. But~ if you’re ready to behave and do what I tell you to~ then I think we’ll have a lot of fun. Does that sound good to you, my Clown prince?”

Laughter echoed through the room again, shrieking and wild in a way that hurt to laugh as her Clown, her Joker, rose to his feet and bowed to her, not even bothering to wipe the tear streaks off his face. 

“But of course, Mother dearest. How may I be of service to you?” he cackled. 

“Well, we’re going to clip some wings…permanently.”

Toxic green flashed and glowed in the dark, and the only response to Gotham’s wild, cruel grin was an answering laugh and smile from her favorite little toy. 

“As you wish, Mother Gotham.”

Jason didn’t know what he’d expected. Perhaps he’d been hoping for a warm acceptance from his mother. Perhaps he’d just been desperately searching for some joy or happiness after Babs had been shot. 

He couldn’t remember. 

Not with all the strikes to the head, anyways. 

“Wow, that looked like it really hurt!” Joker commented as he approached, lifting the crowbar over his head for another strike. Jason glared at him but let out a shout of pain as the crowbar struck again, sending him flying a bit over the ground. “Ope! Now hold on, that looked like it hurt a lot more!”

Joker’s tone was curious and almost -dare he say it- sane. There wasn’t quite as much high pitched mockery in Joker’s voice and Jason could honestly say he hated it. Hated the fact that Joker sounded almost sane as he struck Jason with a crowbar over and over again. 

“So…let’s try to clear this up, okay pumpkin?” Jason glared up at the Joker as the clown stood over him. He yanked fruitlessly at the cuffs around his wrists, cursing internally that Joker had stripped his boots off. He kept his lockpicks tucked in his boots for a reason and now he couldn’t get the cuffs off. 

Not that he’d really be able to without the Joker noticing what he was trying to do. 

“What hurts more…A?”

The crowbar slammed down and Jason let out a shout of pain, feeling something crack and begin to grind slightly with each of his jolts and movements. 

“Or b?”

Jason jerked in pain as Joker smashed the crowbar against his sternum, biting back a shout of pain as one of his ribs was broken and dug deeper into his body. He tried to take deep breaths, testing if the bone had pierced his lung, but he was swiftly distracted by the crowbar hitting again. 

“Forehand?”

Jason smashed into one of the crates, slumping weakly for a moment before a glint of metal in the lights caught his eye. It was the only warning he got to brace himself before the crowbar smashed into him again, smashing him into the concrete floor. 

“Or backhand?”

Jason didn’t get a chance to respond as Joker just kept hitting him. The worst blows were the ones to the head, making his vision blur whenever he was hit and fuzz around the edges whenever he was waiting, dreading the next strike. Finally one of the blows threw Jason forward, smashing his face into the concrete. Jason bit back a scream of pain as his rib was driven deeper into his chest. The taste of blood in his mouth when he tried to breathe confirmed some of Jason’s worst fears. 

Yup. 

His lung had definitely been pierced. Possibly collapsed.

Laughter echoed behind him when the Joker took in the sight of him, laying limp on the ground with the fading hope that it would help keep him from getting hurt worse. Anger swelled in his chest at the sound of the laugh ringing through the room. For a moment, Jason considered just lying there and pretending to have died. 

Anger choked his throat for a moment (or perhaps that was just blood) at the thought of letting the clown think he’d won. 

Yeah. 

No.

Fuck that.

Jason rolled himself partially onto his side and pretended to whisper something. He didn’t really have the oxygen to waste on talking to the psychopath behind him, but it got the Joker’s attention. The clown knelt down next to Jason, his figure far too large as he towered over Jason, even close to the ground. Joker made weak gasping and breathing noises as his lowered his head closer, raising a hand to his ear with a mocking smirk as he spoke. 

“A little louder, lambchop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory,” Joker whispered, grin still stretched over his face. 

Jason, seeing his chance, spat onto the clown’s face with all the precision of a Crime Alley street rat. Joker recoiled with a horrified, disgusted expression on his face as he realized what Jason had done. Then he grabbed Jason’s hair with a furious expression and smashed his face into the ground, breaking Jason’s nose in the process. 

“Now that was rude,” Joker snipped at him, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the spittle off his face. “The first boy blunder had some manners.”

Jason forced himself to roll over with a slight grunt, turning on his side so he could grin up at the Joker through squinted eyes. He may not be able to beat the clown like he would’ve liked, but at least his street alley insults still passed muster. Joker stared at him with a disappointed frown for a moment before his expression became considering, almost reluctant.

“I suppose I’m going to have to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps,” he stated, and fucking hell, he seriously sounded almost normal. Like one of the damn teachers from Gotham Academy holding Jason back after class to ‘educate him’ on some obscure rule that he was absolutely fucking sure only applied to him because he wasn’t born into a rich family, just adopted into one. 

Joker using that same disappointed condescending voice was just wrong. He sounded far too normal, not like the insane murderer Jason knew he really was. 

Then Joker tilted his head to the side consideringly before grinning again. “Nah, I’m just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar.”

He smashed his foot into Jason’s shoulder, forcing him back down onto his front again before bringing the crowbar down again as he laughed. Jason couldn’t help the weak shout of pain that escaped him when the crowbar smashed against the back of his skull. 

Jason couldn’t tell how much time was passing. How could he? Multiple concussive hits to the head tended to make it really hard for people to understand the passage of time until they’d recovered from the head trauma. But Joker just kept on hitting him without stopping for more than a few moments. 

“This is boring…I would’ve expected it to be more fun,” the clown whined. 

He studied the broken, bloody bird beneath him before kicking him in the ribs, earning a sharp cry from the boy. He laughed delightedly and stomped down on Jason’s broken leg, earning a bit off scream as Jason fought not to give the Joker the response he wanted. 

“Come on, sing for me, birdie! Isn’t that what Robins do, they sing? So sing!”

Jason didn’t have the oxygen left to waste on screaming. Not with how much his vision had been filling with black spots and blurring out around the edges, though that could just as easily be because of the concussion or brain damage he probably had. Eventually Jason stopped responding entirely, closing his eyes and focusing on keeping himself breathing through the pain no matter how many times he was hit. 

The sound of footsteps moving away from himself was a relief, even if it meant Joker was probably just grabbing another tool to use to beat Jason further. Instead, there was the creak of hinges announcing the warehouse door opening. Jason remained still, refusing to check whether the clown was actually opening the door or not. 

A gust of cold air cleared up any idea Jason may have had about the clown faking his exit. 

“Okay, kiddo, I gotta go. It’s been fun though, right?” Jason kept his eyes shut, barely breathing as the air went silent, as though Joker were waiting for him to actually speak up. “Well. Maybe a smidge more fun for me than you. I’m just guessing, since you’re being awful quiet there.”

The sound of fabric shuffling and moving…a coat? Maybe? Was Joker actually leaving?? Jason didn’t believe for a second that the clown wouldn’t be waiting outside to see the bird try and escape. He’d probably use that damn crowbar and bash Jason’s skull in as soon as he moved to get out of the warehouse. 

“Anyway, be a good boy, finish your homework, and be in bed by nine.”

And he was back to sounding almost sane. Where was the high pitched laughing and mockery? Why did he sound almost like he was some kind of weird, visiting uncle just spending some time getting to know his nephew?? Despite his voice not matching with the internal image Jason had of the Joker, he could still absolutely picture the expression on the stupid clown’s smug face. 

Though oddly enough the clown hadn’t been smiling quite as much or as widely as Jason was used to. Perhaps it was because Batman wasn’t here?

“And hey!”

Jason fought the urge to grumble or roll his eyes as the clown continued in an upbeat tone. Then shivers ran down Jason’s spine as the clown’s voice deepened and gained a malicious undertone to it. 

“Please tell the big man I said…hello.”

Finally the mad laughter that Jason was familiar with, had been expecting the whole time, slipped from the clown’s body. Jason could almost hear how Joker’s body was shaking with his own laughter. Then the door whined as it shut and the sound was thankfully muffled. Still present, but quieter than when Joker was standing right there. 

Jason waited for a few more moments before he opened his eyes- nope. Nevermind, one of them had swollen shut so he had to do this with one eye only. He peered at the closed door, scanning the warehouse before rolling onto his back with a grunt. Ignoring the white hot pain that shot through his body, Jason forced himself to flip, feet and legs going over his head until he was on his knees, hands pressed against the ground behind him. He carefully brought his legs over the cuffs, finally bringing his hands in front of his body rather than painfully tight behind his back. 

He panted for a moment, hands pressed against the warehouse floor before he pushed himself upright, legs shaking and screaming beneath him. He tried to take a step, but his vision went white with pain and he blacked out, dropping down to the ground. 

Great…crawling it was.

He glared at the door, fury burning in his chest and his heart pounding in his ears. 

I’m getting out. One way or another.

His lips pulled in a snarl but quickly changed to a grimace as Jason forced himself to begin dragging himself forward, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest and difficulty breathing. Every now and then he had to pause, spitting out globs of blood to continue his path forward. The smell of blood was heavy in the air, so thick Jason could practically taste it. 

Then again, it was entirely possible that it wasn’t actually that thick and he actually was just tasting it thanks to how much he’d choked down or spat out. And his nose was broken and still leaking blood into his mouth, making it all the easier for Jason to taste blood. 

(He didn’t notice there was no blood left on the ground behind him. No smears or trails as his form seemed to flicker, blood vanishing the instant it left contact with his body. Jason had far more pressing concerns to focus on than some missing bloodstains.)

Finally, he reached the door, hands pressing against the cold metal for a moment before he forced himself to lean back and reach up, both hands grasping at the handle. He tugged at it, heart skipping a beat when the door refused to open, even with the handle fully depressed. He swallowed thickly and yanked on the door, hearing a clatter from the outside. 

He locked the door. Deadbolted and locked from the outside, Jason realized with dawning horror. He grunted in pain as he let go of the handle and slumped back to the ground, wincing as the impact jarred his ribs. He forced himself to turn over, leaning against the cold door as he took a moment to breathe. 

Closing his eyes, Jason relaxed with a quiet sob as a throaty roar echoed through the night, muffled slightly by the door and walls, but still audible and blessedly familiar. The Batcycle. Bruce…his dad was coming for him. 

Jason slumped against the door with a sigh of pain, vision blurring enough that he closed his eyes, focusing on what he could hear. Trying to focus on the sound of safety approaching at high speeds-

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Jason stiffened, eye opening and scanning the warehouse nervously. He froze, eye widening slightly at the sight of a bright red countdown clock, surrounded by tubes and wires. 

A bomb. 

With nine seconds left on the clock. 

Beep.

00:08

Too far away for Jason to get to and disarm, especially in his injured state. 

Beep.

00:07

The Batcycle was still too faint, still rapidly approaching but not nearly close enough and a shudder ran through Jason, making him gasp in pain as tears welled in his eyes at the realization. 

Beep.

00:06

Bruce wasn’t going to make it in time.

Beep.

00:05

Jason let out a soft breath, staring at the bomb for a moment longer before shutting his eyes and fighting the urge to tense up. 

Beep.

00:04

I’m sorry, Dad. I should’ve told-

Beep.

00:03

“I really shouldn’t influence your decision, baby, if you want to talk to Bruce first, that’s your choice.” 

Jason’s eyes snapped open. 

Right. He’d meant to tell Bruce. About Sheila. He’d wanted to. And then…then She’d talked him out of it. Reminded him how invasive Bruce could be, twisted his head around until Jason had thought it was his idea to keep his birth mother a secret from Bruce, to meet her without telling him. 

Beep.

00:02

Oh. I got played. 

In hindsight, the memory of how he first met the woman was stark, with Batman curling Jason into his side, away from the strange woman suggesting making Jason Batman’s son. He had completely forgotten that. 

Forgotten how the Dark Knight had treated her like a threat.

And now she proved him right. 

Beep.

00:01

Jason narrowed his eye, lips thinning into a resigned, hopeless line. The Batcycle was loud, probably no further than a hundred feet away from Jason’s location. But it would still be too late either way. 

So he closed his eyes. 

And braced for what came next. 

Beep.

00:00