Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

C.C Haly was warned about Gotham. In a city ridden with crime, you must keep an eye on your things. If it weren’t for one of Gotham’s characters breaking out of its feared asylum and wreaking havoc on the city, the circus would have kept a better eye on their equipment. As it stands, Haly is now staring at the empty spot the trapeze equipment is supposed to be in, feeling bewildered and annoyed. Who has any use for trapeze equipment outside the circus? Better yet, how had no one seen the large platforms being moved out of the tent?

He raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, fighting back a headache. Their first performance is tomorrow and they somehow need to find emergency trapeze equipment. 

Haly makes his way to the Graysons’ tent to discuss what to do. The flap of the tent is open, and Haly can hear sounds of feet running around and childlike giggles. Stepping in, he catches Dick performing one of the complicated flips the Graysons are known for while his parents watch.

When Dick lands on his feet, looking a little wobbly, Haly clears his throat to gain their attention and they pause. Dick grins, racing over to him and wrapping his arms around the ringleader’s waist in a clinging hug.

“Mr. Haly! I’m super ready for the show tomorrow- here, check out this quadruple somersault! It’s gotten so much easier!” Dick lets go of him, moving to demonstrate, but Haly places a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I would love to see it, kid,” he says regretfully, “but first I have to talk to you all about your performance.”

John and Mary approach, their expressions turning concerned. “What’s wrong, Haly?” John asks.

“There seems to be an issue with your trapeze equipment,” Haly slowly admits. After a moment, he elaborates, “Particularly that it seems to be…ah…gone.”

“What do you mean by gone?” Mary questions incredulously, jerking her head back and forth as if the equipment will appear in front of her. Her hair nearly smacks John in the face, prompting Dick to let out a shocked giggle from the side, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth and feigning seriousness.

Haly spares him a knowing glance before returning his attention to Mary, his own hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “I mean that it is not where it is supposed to be, and if it is not anywhere else in the circus, then it must have been stolen.”

“Stolen?! Who else would want our trapeze equipment Mr. Haly?” Dick exclaims, bouncing on his heels.

“I do not know, but if we don’t find it, then we will have to figure something else out soon so you will be able to perform,” Haly informs them gravely.

“I can go ask around with Dick to see if anyone in the caravan has seen the equipment,” Mary volunteers. “We have extra swings that John can go get. Is there a way for you to figure out the platforms in the meantime?” she asks.

“Yes, Mary. I will look around Gotham for any stores that may be able to help. We might need to go to a hardware store and build it ourselves,” Haly replies decisively, already mentally running the numbers.

Their respective roles having been assigned, the group splits up. Haly heads to his tent to grab his phone, searching up stores that may be selling platforms of any kind. It takes him only a handful of minutes to determine that the circus would need to put together the platforms themselves. Most ready made ones were for stage performances and weren’t high enough, and the rest wouldn’t come in on time.

Exiting his tent, he finds that the Graysons have already gathered a substantial group of circus members. John is holding a box with trapeze swings, but Mary shakes her head when Haly makes eye contact with her. Sighing, he approaches the group and gives them the news: they will have to try to build trapeze platforms themselves for tomorrow's show.

With an efficiency bred from having worked with one another for so long and in such close quarters, the group is able to quickly split up to gather the materials needed, agreeing to meet back up in around an hour. 

Sure enough, once that hour passes, they all gather in the main tent, ready to assemble platforms as best as they can. 

Laughter and music fills the air as the circus performers work together to make trapeze platforms that are as safe as possible, despite the limited time in which they have to construct them. They each take on assigned roles and painstakingly build up the platforms, dedicating themselves to ensuring that their fellow performers - the Graysons - will be safe during their act. Eventually, they step back, and the Graysons test out the platforms with a net to ensure their safety. They swing back and forth, completing their routine as the rest of the circus watches and cheers them on. Haly and the others pay special attention to make sure that everything seems safe and stable the whole while. 

 Unfortunately, due to limited material, the platforms are not as tall as they usually are, but they are just tall enough for the Flying Grayson routine. As they finish up, a sense of relief and pride permeates the air because the Graysons are now able to perform in tomorrow’s show. 

….

Haly is in his office, going over the finishing touches of the show, when the door flutters open revealing a tall, scarred man flanked by two other only slightly less intimidating men. 

“C.C. Haly!” the man booms, spreading his arms out like he’s greeting an old friend. “It looks like you have quite the performance in store for Gotham tomorrow.”

Haly hesitantly rises from his seat, unsure of the purpose of this visit and even less sure as to who the newcomers are. 

“Hello, sir,” he greets, courtesy being a practice long-since instilled in him. “May I ask who you are? I wasn’t aware anyone had a meeting with me today.”

The man lets out a booming laugh, easily waving him off. “Yes, yes, this is a bit last minute. My name is Tony Zucco, and I work for Mr. Falcone. I’m sure you’ve heard of him?” The question is stated innocently enough, if one were to ignore the undertone of mocking to it; Haly’s stomach drops at the name. “It seems that your circus isn’t as safe as you thought. I have gotten reports of your members buying building materials.”

Haly’s blood runs cold. Of course he had heard of Falcone. He had heard many warnings of the criminals of Gotham when planning the locations of the performances. He had hoped that the criminals would turn a blind eye to a circus that only wanted to provide entertainment for Gotham’s citizens, but it seems he’d been too naive. “I-I- Mr. Zucco, we did purchase building materials, as our trapeze equipment went missing. May I ask for the purpose of your visit? I assure you that we have properly booked the space and purchased the materials,” he stutters, the words leaving him in a rush.

“Ah, yes it seems you have done a fine job building new ones, but who’s to say they’re safe?” Mr. Zucco’s voice drops deeper, a threatening edge lining it as he adds, “Your original equipment already went missing. What’s going to prevent something like that from happening again?”

Haly gulps, but he steels himself. “We will make it work if the new ones go missing again,” he says resolutely. “Worst case, the Graysons are unable to perform.”

Mr. Zucco chuckles darkly, “Oh, that’s never the worst case in Gotham. You are not from here, so I will give you grace, but you need to be more wary. Things you can never imagine are possible in Gotham.” The words would have seemed encouraging and magical, if not for the dark tone in which they were uttered.

Haly jumped as Mr. Zucco suddenly clapped his hands together with a loud smack, the man’s demeanor brightening, “Which is why I am here today. Mr. Falcone is willing to offer you protection…for a price. Pay us $5,000 for every day you are here, and we will make sure nothing happens to disrupt your performances. Whaddya say?”

Haly’s eyes frightfully dart between the other three men in the room. A bead of sweat drips down his temple and trails down to his neck. He hesitantly admits, “I-I’m sorry Mr. Zucco, I don’t think we can afford that.” 

Mr. Zucco waves him off, “That’s okay, you can pay in installments.” He pauses, placing a hand on his chin as if a sudden thought came to him, and his lips curl up in a mean smirk as he innocently adds, “Or.. you can do other favors in exchange for our protection.”

Haly’s body tenses even more. He doesn’t want to get the circus caught up with the mob. That’s just asking to be trapped in the criminal world. Whatever Mr. Falcone would ask of them could result in jail, or worse: death.

He stiffly, but firmly, says, “I’m sorry, but I will have to refuse your offer. We are unable to afford it, so we will take our chances without the protection.” He pauses to swallow dryly, and he fights against the tremble in his voice as he finishes with, “I thank you for coming over in person and taking the time to give us this offer, but unfortunately, I cannot take it.”

Mr. Zucco stiffens, and his face abruptly shifts into rage. “You really think this was an offer?” he spits, taking a menacing step forward and slamming a palm on the desk between them . “ It was a command, and your refusal means that you have disobeyed both me and Mr. Falcone. Just wait and see how you will do with ‘taking your chances,’” he quotes with a cruel sneer, turning on his heel without a moment’s pause.

He storms out with the other two men still flanking him. Haly remains frozen in terror as he processes what happened and what had just been said. Dread pools in his gut as he considers  what could happen now that he has angered someone in the mob - what could happen to the circus.  

Even so, he can’t bring himself to regret it, as accepting could have had even worse consequences for everyone. 

….

Haly is sweating as he exits the stage after his introduction, and he can only be thankful that the dark color of his suit would hide any stains. All throughout the performance he has been on edge, waiting for something to happen. He made extra sure that everything was as it should be the morning before the performance, reminding all of his circus members to triple-check their equipment. He used the missing trapeze equipment as an excuse for his uncharacteristic paranoia. Guilt gnaws at him for not informing his performers of what had happened the night before, but the grim truth was that their knowing would not aid the situation. In fact, their nerves would instead pose a danger to themselves during their acts.

So far the performance has been going smoothly, and the energy in the tent has been electric. The audience’s enthusiasm makes all the struggles they encountered seem worth it to Haly, as he takes in everyone’s smiling faces. 

It’s finally time for the Flying Grayson routine, and he holds his breath as they set up the stage. He is nervously anticipating how the makeshift platforms will hold up, despite repeated practice by the Graysons before the performance. They have it down, despite the new equipment, and to an outsider, it would seem like it was their original equipment all along. 

The Graysons glide through the air like they have wings, performing flips and tricks only a very small percentage of the world’s population can accomplish. The crowd is gasping in awe as the family performs amazing feats in the air. Haly is just as enthralled as everyone else as Dick is deposited onto a platform while his parents flip across each other and grab the other swing. 

Before they can perform their next moves, two loud snaps echo in the tent. 

John and Mary Grayson fall down like birds with injured wings, time slowing as horror dawns in Haly.

This has that Zucco written all over it. He should have paid the protection money if only so a son doesn’t have to see his parents’ death. 

Haly squeezes his eyes shut not wanting to watch as a sickening thump echoes in a silent tent. There is a moment of stillness before all hell breaks loose. 

Parents cover their children’s eyes as people rush to exit the tent. Screams are let out as people panic, but one scream in particular has Haly’s eyes shooting open. They dart quickly to a devastated child standing up on a makeshift platform, tears streaming down his face. The sight jolts Haly into action as he joins the other members of the circus as some go to help Dick down while others go to check on the fallen Graysons. 

Haly goes to Dick, not knowing what he is going to say when he gets there. Before he can utter a word, a shout gains his attention.

“They’re alive!”

Chapter Text

Bruce feels cold all over. Just seconds ago, he was staring up in awe as the Flying Graysons flew through the air, performing acrobatics even he as Batman has never attempted. He was just making a mental note to research the viability of incorporating several of the moves into his own style when his worst nightmare came to life in front of his eyes. 

Bruce had shot up from his seat, frozen stiff for all of a moment from the gruesome sight on the ground before a scream that echoes the ones in his nightmares pierces the air and jolts him out of his horror-struck state. His head snaps up and his eyes lock onto a small figure crumpled into himself. In that moment, Bruce feels an instinct he has never experienced as intensely before: to go and wrap himself around that figure and shield him from the cruel outside world; to shield him from the pain no child should ever be exposed to. He wants to tear those who hurt him to shreds. 

Bruce’s feet are moving to do just that before he even processes the emotions that had surged through him and now spur him on. The only thing that has him pausing is a cry from one of the people surrounding the still forms on the floor. 

“They’re alive!”

Bruce is turning on his heel and sprinting towards the group before the exclamation is finished being uttered. If there is a chance he can spare that young, innocent child from the pain and bitterness of loss he has felt most of his life, he will do everything in his power to make it happen. 

His experience from medical school and vigilantism kicks in as his body moves on autopilot. He shoves through the crowd, ordering people to call the police and paramedics, and kneels beside the broken bodies of John and Mary Grayson. 

He checks their pulses, his fingers smearing with the all too familiar slickness of blood. Both of their pulses, though weak and fluttering, are miraculously present. Bruce allows a moment of relief to wash through him before his adrenaline increases once more. Time rushes past him, as he feels a first aid kit being shoved in his hands. He is too focused on the Graysons to acknowledge whoever handed it to him, but he hastily opens it to find the limited materials it provides. His heart pounds as he uses what he has to stabilize the Graysons as much as he can. 

All background noise is hushed behind him, his focus completely on John and Mary. A hand on his shoulder startles him, his awareness of his surroundings unnervingly impeded by his urgency. He jerks his head up to notice paramedics behind him, and he rushes to move aside and give them access to the Graysons. His legs wobble uncharacteristically as he stands up, numb from kneeling for so long and the sudden drop in adrenaline. Before he can completely lose his balance, a hand grabs his tricep for support. 

Bruce finds himself being led away by Commissioner Gordon and deposited on one of the front row seats of the stands. He looks down at his blood-stained, shaking hands, and barely manages to withhold a startled flinch as a capless water bottle is thrust into his line of sight. Gordon pours the water onto Bruce’s hands, rinsing the tacky, half-dried blood from his skin. Half-empty, the plastic bottle is pressed into the palm of Bruce’s damp skin, the command to drink the remainder clear. 

Bruce obligingly lifts the bottle and gulps down the cool water, and he sighs, leaning back and closing his eyes for a moment to calm himself down. When he opens them again, he finally takes in the fact that the Commissioner is hovering over him and looking more concerned for his well-being than he has in… perhaps years. 

Noticing his attention, Gordon checks in with him, asking, “How are you holding up, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce sighs again. He’s reminded of how the Commissioner had hovered over him as a child the night his parents were murdered. The disturbing parallels this situation has with that traumatizing night 20 years ago is enough to cut Bruce to the core. He knows the only things truly holding him back from a complete mental breakdown are the knowledge that the Graysons are still alive and the need to comfort their grieving child. 

That need urges Bruce to respond, “I am doing the best I can Commissioner,” trying for a commiserating grin. By the grimace Gordon gives him in return, it wasn’t nearly as reassuring as he’d attempted to make it. He pushes forth regardless, “How’s their boy doing?” he asks, craning his neck around Gordon’s figure to try and spot the young acrobat; he’s not in the place Bruce had last seen him. He glances back to the Commissioner. “I’d like to see if I can offer my help in any way,” he tells the man sincerely, inwardly wincing at the edge of desperation that he feels enter his tone.

Bruce doesn’t even need to play up his concern. He is suddenly, achingly desperate to try and soothe the child. To be the adult who understands what he is going through the way no had been able to do when Bruce was newly an orphan.

The furrow between Commissioner Gordon’s brow softens in understanding and sympathy. His voice is careful as he informs Bruce, “He is being looked after by his fellow circus members backstage. My partner is currently questioning them all about the events that may have occurred to result in this tragedy. Would you like to-”

Bruce is up and speed-walking towards the backstage entrance before he can finish his question. 

“Wait, Mr. Wayne, you can’t interfere with our investigation! You can talk to him after we are done!” Commissioner Gordon calls after him. 

The words fall on deaf ears as Bruce makes his way backstage, spotting a large crowd speaking over one another to a familiar detective. Bruce scans the crowd and sees Richard Grayson with a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a stuffed elephant squeezed tightly in his arms. He's sitting in the center of a worn couch, surrounded protectively by circus performers who are giving him pained and devastated looks. 

 Bruce feels a twinge in his heart as he aches to pull the small boy into his arms. He slowly approaches the group, hesitant to interrupt. Now that he has eyes on the young Grayson, the urgency he once felt is fading. Reassured by the circus members’ care and support, Bruce feels that the child is as protected as possible, especially with Batman (not that anyone knows) in the room. 

The detective, who Bruce now recognizes as Detective Montoya, is softly speaking to the group. Bruce catches, “-know who could have taken it?” The members shake their heads, with the exception, Bruce notes, of the ringleader, who is looking particularly pale. 

Bruce narrows his eyes in suspicion. His attention now diverted, he waits until the detective is done before walking over to C.C. Haly. The man stutters as he sees the hard expression on Bruce’s face as he approaches, taking a step back. 

Bruce blocks his escape with a quick side-step and leans in to murmur genially, “Hello Mr. Haly, is there a way for us to speak in private? I have a few questions for you myself.”

Haly looks him up and down, and recognition sparks in his eyes. “You’re the man that was helping patch up John and Mary! How are they?” he questions, tone colored with enough trepidation to tremble with it.

“They are still alive, last I saw, and the paramedics are probably transporting them to the hospital as we speak,” Bruce replies, subtly guiding him to a quiet corner out of earshot.

Haly sighs in relief and tentatively smiles at Bruce. “Are you a doctor, sir?” he asks. Tangentially, Bruce feels a faint spark of amusement over not having been recognized, but the sentiment is buried under his skepticism of the man. Haly knows something of the incident - more than the others.

Outwardly, Bruce shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively, responding, “No, no I was a medical student, but I dropped out to travel the world. I still have some of those medical skills ingrained in me I suppose.”

Haly’s expression falters at the lackadaisical response. “Ah…” he says, “What are you doing now? I am very grateful for your help treating John and Mary, but I am surprised someone with only medical school experience was that skilled.”

“I learned a lot through my travels, including medicine. Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Have you heard of it?” Bruce questions lightly. 

Haly’s expression rapidly shifts into shock and realization. “I-I apologize Mr. Wayne. I didn’t recognize you. Of course I’ve heard of it. Who hasn't?" he hurries to say, “How can we ever repay you for what you did for us today?”

Bruce waves him off, offering reassurance by saying, “It’s quite alright. I’m very happy I could help, especially because-,” Bruce’s breath catches in his throat. He steels himself and continues, “I’m sure you know what happened with my own parents? I would never wish for another child to be put through the same.”

Haly grimaces in acknowledgement, and Bruce can see him wrestling with himself to say something. He patiently waits for the man to broach the subject. Just when the silence stretches and Bruce is about to nudge him to speak, Haly blurts out, “Judging by their state, it seems like it will take quite a while for John and Mary to recover, and I hate to say it, but it is unknown if they will be able to perform in the future. I hope to god they will, but you never know with these kinds of injuries.”

“The Graysons seem resilient, Mr. Haly,” Bruce replies, “I’m sure there will be a day they will take to the air again.”

Haly looks unsure, but visibly lets the topic go, seemingly not wanting to think about the Graysons never doing trapeze again. He takes a deep breath and continues on, “They will, of course, have to stay in Gotham for their recovery, and it may take years for them to be able to travel with us again. Unfortunately, many factors make it so that this circus will not be able to stay for that long. We rely on traveling performances for income, and I feel staying in Gotham is not very…safe..at the moment. I do not want other members to get hurt as well.”

He braces himself before tentatively reaching his main point, “However, this calls into question what to do with young Dick. He, of course, should not be taken away from his parents for so long, and not many of our members are equipped to parent a child on the move as the Graysons did. The detective mentioned foster care, but I worry about who will take care of him in this dark city. I have not heard great things about the foster system here. You should not feel obligated to take him in, but I trust that you care about Dick and you’re the only person I know in Gotham. If you could…please check in on him from time to time to make sure he is okay?”

Bruce takes a moment to think about how to respond. He could not fault the circus for not being able to stay in the city for however long it took the Graysons to recover. Though when trying to imagine Richard in Gotham’s foster care, he shudders. That bright 11-year-old he saw before the tragedy would not get the support he needs, and would be snuffed out by the corruption that underlies CPS. Bruce has tried to root it out, but the corruption is so well-established, he has only brushed the surface. Gotham has had many cases of human trafficking, and as a Romani child from a circus, Richard may not be treated as he should. Bruce makes a mental note to have Batman increase his attention on this, but he doesn’t currently trust them with Richard. 

Abruptly, he wonders if he would be able to take Richard in. He could simply do what Haly mentioned and just check in with Richard to make sure he is being treated right, as he would have done so regardless, but something prevents him from agreeing. 

Bruce feels a connection to the child, a tether, and he is already certain that the mere possibility of Richard not being safe anytime in the near future - or further on - would haunt him. When his own parents had passed, he at least had Alfred to support him in the immediate time afterwards. Though Richard’s parents had fortunately survived, they were in no state to look after their son, who would be left all alone in Gotham as his circus moved on. Even if Bruce was to disregard his newly accepted attachment to Richard, his own life experience has made him uniquely suited to helping Richard with his grief. Additionally, he has plenty of money to take care of another person (or twenty). Truthfully, the only things holding Bruce back from immediately offering to take care of Richard while the Graysons recover are how Alfred would react and his nightly activities. 

Already, he begins to determine how he can negate the two obstacles. He feasibly could hide the vigilante activities from Richard, Bruce muses. All he has to do is make sure Richard is in bed before he leaves and that Alfred keeps an eye out to make sure he doesn’t snoop while Bruce is away. Alfred would enjoy having more company, Bruce thinks, and, if not, they can figure something else out. 

Bruce could start working from home during the day to look after Richard and support Alfred. His Brucie Wayne persona already makes it so most of the board members don’t know how much he contributes to the company. They would be easily convinced that he can do his job remotely. As a very last resort (Bruce is already dreading the thought), he could hire a nanny that would pass all of Bruce’s qualifications and inspections into their trustworthiness, though he would prefer not to make his secret identity discoverable by another person. 

In the short span of time it takes him to run through every possible contingency he can imminently think of, Bruce decides that it couldn’t hurt to try and see where this takes him. Alfred has been urging him to find some company outside of the performative and professional relationships Brucie Wayne has (apparently Selina does not count). 

Bruce realizes that Haly is still looking at him expectantly, and is slowly beginning to look disheartened. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Bruce informs him, “I’ll look into having him stay with me. I have plenty of money to support him and his parents’ treatment, and though I am not the most emotionally competent person, I believe I’ll be able to help him process his trauma from tonight. At the very least, I can get him a good therapist.” Bruce reaches his hand forward, “Here, give me a way to contact you, and you can check in with Richard whenever you have the time.”

Haly perks up a little, his expression a meld of relief and disbelief as he hurriedly replies, “Ah, I can’t express my gratitude enough,” he clasps his hands together, “I am placing my trust in you to look after Dick. Here is my business card-,” he pats his front pockets, pulling out a card and placing it into  Bruce’s waiting hand, “please contact me as soon as you can if you need any assistance with Dick. Let me bring you over and introduce you to him.”

Bruce takes the card gratefully and hands Haly his own from the breast pocket of his suit. When Haly tries to lead him over to Richard, however, Bruce stops him, his initial objective returning to him. “Wait,” he says, “There is something else I would like to talk to you about as well. Do you have any idea of what could have caused this? You seemed like you knew something when the detective was questioning you.”

Haly pales once more, stuttering out, “We-Well we did have to build our o-own platforms and use spare swings when the trapeze equipment went missing. It seems that the po-police are most likely going to put that down as the cause, but I as-assure you Mr. Wayne, we quadruple checked the platforms, and the Graysons practiced many times with a net before the performance.”

Bruce’s back straightens as he becomes intrigued. “What could possibly have happened for the equipment to go missing?” he asks incredulously.

 Haly hesitates before postulating, “There’s no way to know for sure, but….” he takes a breath to steel himself, “I was threatened yesterday by the member of a mob, who made..allusions to the missing equipment.” He slumps in distress and brings his hand to his face, his eyes tearing up, “I can’t help but feel guilty. I refused to pay them money for protection because I didn’t want to get my circus caught up in the mob. I thought I was protecting them, but now I feel responsible for the poor Graysons’ condition.”

Bruce sighs. He can feel anger building up inside of him at the idea of innocent lives being threatened - having already been hurt - due to a mob’s greed, but he makes sure to bury it for later, keeping a collected facade. “What mob were they from? Can you please tell me the details of the interaction? Maybe I can find a way to help bring them to justice,” Bruce suggests evenly.

Haly shakes his head rapidly, “No, no, no. There is a reason I didn’t tell the detective about my suspicions, Mr. Wayne. The mob is too dangerous for you, even with your wealth, or anyone to go after. I will not have any more bloodshed over this. We will leave quietly, and hopefully the Graysons will recover and the mob will turn their attention to other things.”

Bruce frowns, objecting, “Mr. Haly, I know you hope this will go away and that the Graysons will be safe, but because they are still alive, there is no guarantee the mob will not try to finish the job. Believe me, I have methods that will not put anyone in danger if I can help it. As I will have responsibility toward Richard as his guardian, I will try to make sure no more harm comes to the Graysons. Now please, tell me the details about what the mob said to you.”

Although the man still doesn’t look completely convinced, Haly heaves a weary sigh and begins weaving the story of how Tony Zucco came to him to propose an arrangement with Mr. Falcone’s mob. Bruce blanches at the price asked for. Two lives are only worth $30,000 to them. Bruce internally vows that both Bruce Wayne and Batman will bestow vengeance upon Zucco and Falcone, and he assures Haly as much, letting him know that their actions will not go unpunished.

Buoyed by their conversation and relieved to know the Graysons would be looked after in his absence, Haly straightens up, a spark of energy returning to his tired frame. “Would you like to meet Dick?” he offers. Bruce hastily accepts, and this time follows the man’s lead as they walk over to the small, shivering boy who is still sitting on the couch, not having moved an inch since his parents were carted away.

His head seems to be drooping, but it jerks up when he hears their approach. Bruce’s icy blue eyes meet wide ocean blue ones, framed by long lashes that make Richard seem even more childlike than he does from afar. Bruce’s heart squeezes from the need to cuddle the boy affectionately, but he once again shakes himself out of it. If everything goes to plan, he’ll later be able to earn Richard’s trust and the child may let him cradle him-keep him safe and warm. 

For now, Bruce tries to give him his most reassuring smile. Richard’s eyes dart to Haly questioningly, and Haly manages a shaky smile in his direction. He gestures for the others surrounding Richard to give them some privacy, and they oblige, though they continue watching from a distance, glancing at Bruce warily. Haly then turns to Richard and introduces Bruce to him, “Hello, Dick. This is Mr. Wayne. He was the man that was taking care of your parents before the ambulance came. He wanted to meet you.”

“Hello, Richard,” Bruce greets him softly, rejoining, “I know that it is obvious that nothing is okay for you right now, but I’d like to know if there is anything I can do for you. Believe it or not, I understand what you’re going through, and I’ll do my best to make sure you feel better.”

Richard blinks in for a moment before his face crumples again, “How could you understand?” he sobs out, “I’ll never feel better until Daj and Tati are okay again.”

Bruce reaches out, placing a tentative hand on Richard’s shoulder. Richard flinches before hesitantly leaning into the touch.

“Now Dick, Mr. Wayne was the one who kept your parents alive, you need to show him a little more respect-” Haly starts scolding him, before Bruce gestures to cut him off. It was too late, however, as it makes Richard sob louder.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry ! T-Thank you M-Mr. Wayne. I-” Bruce interrupts, “Now none of that. I know you’re in a lot of pain. My-My parents were killed in front of me when I was child, so I know what you are going through. I am immensely happy that I was there to help your parents, and I’ll make sure they are taken care of so they can get better.”

Bruce doesn’t even notice that he is rubbing Richard’s back until his cries peter out and only sniffling and hiccups are heard. Before he can remove his hand, Richard is throwing himself off the couch and wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce’s waist. The blanket around him falls to the floor along with the stuffed elephant. Bruce is taken aback and flails his arms a little looking around in surprise. Haly’s face has softened and Bruce looks back down at the top of Richard’s dark, fluffy head. He rests his right hand gently on top of that head and wraps his left arm around the boy’s slim shoulders. 

He stands there for a moment, feeling Richard’s chest move with his breaths, soaking in the feeling of this small being in his arms. Richard breaks the silence before he can, grumbling, “It’s Dick, not Richard. No one calls me that.”

Bruce huffs out a soft chuckle. Haly breaks through the moment, looking a little regretful at doing so. “As much as you will have time to get to know each other later, I believe there is something we wanted to talk to you about, Dick.” He gives Bruce a prompting look. Reluctantly, Bruce pulls back from the hug and places his hands on Ri-Dick’s shoulders. He looks down and their eyes meet once again. 

“I would like you to stay with me while your parents are recovering. Mr. Haly has informed me that the circus will not be able to stay longer, and they know you won’t want to be separated from your parents. I promise that I will look after you and your parents. I have enough money to give all of you the best care,” he explains.

Dick’s eyes widen. “Why are you helping us so much?” he asks.

“I already care about you. I feel a connection to you because I understand what you are going through, and I believe that we will become good friends,” he smiles, “I loved your performance, and I’m sure you can teach me a thing or two.”

Dick smiles back, looking brighter than he has since his parents’ fall. Bruce’s chest warms as Dick becomes a bit more of himself again. Haly clears his throat to gain their attention, “Are you okay with this Dick? I’m sorry that you can’t stay with us, but Mr. Wayne has promised to keep in contact. You can call us anytime you need something or want to talk to us. We love you little bird.”

Dick nods, though he tears up, “It’s okay Mr. Haly, I understand you can’t stay.” He glances shyly up at Bruce, “Mr. Wayne seems nice and he says he can help Daj and Tati. I love you guys too, and I’ll call you lots of times!”

He hugs Haly tightly. Bruce goes to pick up the blanket and stuffed elephant, “Here you are, Dick. That’s a cute elephant you have there.”

Dick smiles, taking the stuffed elephant and hugging it to his chest again. “This is Zitka!” he exclaims, “She’s named after an elephant we have here.”

Bruce smiles back, and then a thought occurs to him. He clears his throat, “Do you want me to take you to the hospital? We can see how your parents are doing.”

Dicks face becomes sad again, and Bruce almost regrets asking, but then he nods seriously. He takes Bruce’s hand and waves goodbye to all the circus members gathered there. “We’ll be back for his stuff later, and you can say a proper goodbye then,” Bruce assures the group. They all wave back and nod in acknowledgement, looking morose, before Bruce leads Dick to the exit. 

They pass by the Commissioner on the way out. Bruce stops him and asks him to look into how to foster Dick. The Commissioner expresses surprise at his intention to foster the boy, but looking down at Dick clinging to Bruce’s hand convinces him. He promises to work out the legalities and send Bruce the paperwork as soon as he can, so Bruce guides Dick to his car. 

As he helps Dick in, he makes a mental note to buy a car seat and buckles the little bird in. Dick is still clinging tightly to Zitka on the drive to the hospital, and whenever Bruce glances in the rearview mirror, he looks like he is trying his hardest to remain strong. 

Dick is shaking when Bruce carries him out of the car. Relieved that he brought the blanket with him, Bruce wraps it around Dick and places an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to the hospital entrance. He squeezes the child’s shoulder upon hearing a whimper as they cross the threshold. When they reach the reception desk, Bruce inquires about the Graysons. When asked about the relation, he informs them that Dick is the Graysons’ son. Surprisingly, no one asks how the Graysons know Bruce Wayne, though it may be their professionalism keeping their curiosity at bay.

The two of them are told to wait in the waiting area for a doctor or nurse to call them and Bruce finds a clingy bird cuddled in his lap. Dick seems to have been tired out from the traumatic evening and is dozing off against Bruce's chest when a nurse calls for them. Carefully nudging Dick awake, Bruce lifts him in his arms as he stands up and makes his way to the nurse, unwilling to let go just yet. Bruce doesn’t know if it is for his or Dicks benefit, but he isn’t going to examine it. Dicks arms and legs wrap tightly around Bruce as they take comfort from one another, anticipating what they may hear from the nurse.

She smiles sweetly at them, and the tension in Bruce’s body eases marginally. They stare at her expectantly, and she explains, “John and Mary are currently in surgery at the moment. They are in pretty bad shape, but the surgeons were able to stabilize them. Right now, there is a high probability that both of them are going to survive, though I warn you, they may take some time to wake up after their ordeal. Mary may need to be placed in a medically induced coma for a few weeks.” She makes eye contact with Bruce, “The paramedics told us that you were treating them onsite?”

At Bruce's nod, her smile gets wider. “That immediate treatment may have saved their lives. Looks like the Graysons have a guardian angel looking after them,” she says softly, looking kindly at Dick in Bruce’s arms. 

Bruce protests, “I did what anyone would have done if they had the skills-” However, Dick cuts him off by burying himself deeper in his arms and proclaiming, “I know! Mr. Wayne is a hero!”

Bruce’s splutters, lost for words. He is used to Batman being called a hero, but this is the first time anyone has called Bruce Wayne one. He starts to feel choked up as he gazes down at the sweet child in his arms, and he can already see himself loving him for the rest of his life. Not that he’d be able to say it out loud just yet.

Suddenly, the words about John and Mary Grayson come back to him and he sighs in relief, grateful that they will survive. As visiting hours are over and the Graysons are still in surgery, Bruce carries Dick back to the car and drives them back to the circus. Glancing at a sleeping Dick huddled in the backseat, Bruce feels the beginning of healing for himself. His broken and bitter heart is mended just a little after seeing how he saved this precious little family that reminds him so much of his own.

Chapter Text

Thunder roars through Gotham, lightning lighting up the foggy skyline. Dick gasps awake, sitting up quickly and not recognizing the dark room he’s woken up in. Large, floor length windows to his left flash, revealing a downpour of rain outside. 

Unused to the stormy weather, Dick burrows deeper into the comfiest bed he has ever felt. “Daj? Tati?” he whispers into the silent room. The words seem to echo in the vast bedroom. 

Now that he is fully awake, Dick remembers where he is. Gotham’s gloom and the Victorian aesthetic of Wayne Manor make Dick feel like he is stuck in a vampire movie. The unaware human hunted by Dracula. 

That is, of course, not true (Dick thinks anyway). Despite the scary shadows of Gotham, Dick likes Bruce and Alfred. Everyone he has met in Gotham so far, including Commissioner Gordon and the hospital staff have been kind to him. Dick feels guilty and ungrateful because he wants to leave sometimes. They have all helped him so much, and he has been luckier than most kids whose parents are hurt or dead. He is living with a billionaire ! 

However, Dick is used to the sun, the fresh air. He loves running through green grass and bright flowers when the circus sets up in fields. He is used to traveling, never staying in one place for long and exploring what cultures the world has to offer. Being stuck in one place is wearing on him. He needs some excitement .  

Haly’s circus moved on two weeks ago, and Dick misses it. He has never been one to be scared, jumping into new routines and acrobatics, flying high in the sky. Crime-ridden Gotham feels like a new adventure, but the circus has always been Dick’s home. Dick knows he has to adjust to Gotham being his home now. 

His parents are still in comas, and though he has visited every day with Bruce, Dick knows that it will take really long for them to be healed. 

Dick grabs Zitka, who had fallen next to him, and buries himself completely under the covers, hoping to block out the outside world. His thick comforter offers a warm safe haven, and Dick drifts off once more to thoughts of his family whole again, maybe with Bruce and Alfred too.

….

Dick rubs his eyes sleepily as he makes his way to the dining room for breakfast. One thing that he likes in the Manor better than the circus is the food! His parents are decent cooks, but there aren’t many super delicious food options available on the road that they can afford. Eating out at restaurants was a special treat, but Alfred cooks just as well as them and Dick can eat it every day! Three times a day in fact!

Peeking his head into the doorway, he sees the table set with a delicious breakfast spread. Dick’s stomach grumbles with hunger and he hurriedly moves to sit at the table. He places Zitka on the seat next to him (Zitka has been going everywhere with him in this unfamiliar house) and looks around for the cereal. 

No matter how much delicious food Alfred cooks, Dick needs at least one bowl of cereal to get him through the day, just like Bruce is with his coffee. After serving himself (and keeping the mess to a minimum to not disappoint Alfred!), Dick digs into the food. 

He’s gotten used to a routine, which is very different from what it was like in the circus where they were very spontaneous. After eating breakfast (he is sometimes joined by Bruce and/or Alfred, but not always), he helps Alfred clean up, and then spends time practicing in the gym. He’s learned early on to not try his acrobatics outside the gym as it had resulted in a smashed vase and fallen chandelier. Bruce was able to create a giant gym with everything Dick needs (rich people). Dick is in awe of it every day. 

After practicing, he goes on errands with Alfred and gets to explore Bristol and Gotham a little more. He is starting to remember where everything is, and he is learning that most Gothamites tend to keep to themselves a lot. As he is from a very communal and friendly community, it is weird for people to glare if he smiles at them or tries to interact with them in any way. It’s like they’re allergic to friendliness. Not that there aren’t good people in Gotham, it’s just harder to get them to open up to you. Strangers tend to be defensive and rude, but once Gothamites acknowledge you as one of their own, they are extremely protective. 

Dick thinks that he is on good terms with the people at the hospital, but he hasn’t really been able to interact with anyone outside of Bruce and Alfred enough that he could make friends. He feels like an outsider to the city, but he also feels like he is slowly being let into Gotham’s nest.

After errands, Bruce is usually home from work, so he takes Dick to the hospital to visit his parents. The doctors keep telling them that John and Mary are still stable, and it is just a matter of time for them to wake up. Dick wants them to wake up now (he’s never been a patient person). 

Bruce and Dick spend a couple hours there to watch over John and Mary. This is usually when they get to know each other, talking about their past and daily lives. In a way, having his parents in the room makes Dick feel like he is including them in the conversation. That he is telling them about his day on top of Bruce. He’s starting to like Bruce a lot (even if he tries to tell him what to do and makes him sleep at bedtime). They’ve developed a tentative friendship built on mutual understanding and respect. 

Dick has shown Bruce a lot of his acrobatics and Bruce even asked him to teach him! Dick’s never taught a grownup before and he feels really important when he does. Bruce also has been teaching him martial arts that he learned during his travels, which is another thing they can bond over. Bruce has been to many places (but not as many as Dick has!), and they talk a lot about what they saw or who they met when traveling. Bruce even promised to take Dick on a trip once his parents are better!

Dick is startled out of his thoughts when the kitchen door opens, and he glances up to find Alfred bustling in with some orange juice and bacon. Dick waves enthusiastically instead of greeting him because his cheeks are stuffed full of food enough to look like a squirrel, and Alfred has scolded him plenty about speaking with food in his mouth. 

“Good morning, Master Dick, I presume you are enjoying your breakfast?” Alfred asks, raising a cool eyebrow.

Dick nods his head vigorously and takes a moment to swallow his food before responding, “Hi Alfred! It tastes great as always! How are you? How’s today looking?”

“I am doing well, thank you. Today, I need to go to the library. There is a book about interior design that I would like to check out. Would you like to accompany me?” Before Dick can pout about reading (ugh), Alfred continues, “I saw they have a new comic series about…Black Widow? At least that is what I heard.”

“Black Widow!” Dick exclaims, “She’s so awesome. She can do a load of complicated acrobatics and fight bad guys with them. She also has these wicked Widow bites that electrocute her enemies. Someday I want to fight like her. Plus her red hair is so pretty!” he sighs, swooning.

“Maybe leave the fighting to the professional adults , Master Dick, though I’m sure Master Bruce would love it if you learned to defend yourself,” Alfred replies. 

“Ooo, do you think he’ll teach me more fighting moves?? Right now he’s just teaching me stances, kicks, and punches. They’re kinda boring because he’s only focusing on the form,” Dick frowns in annoyance.

“A good foundation will be necessary for proper self-defense, Master Dick,” Alfred informs him, “Why don’t you go down to the gym to practice once you are finished eating, and I’ll call you when I am ready to leave?”

“Okay!!” Dick exclaims excitedly, returning to shoveling food into his mouth. Alfred sighs at his table manners, but doesn’t bother to try and correct the behavior for the hundredth time.

Once Dick is done at the gym, the two of them are on their way to Gotham’s Public Library. Once they get there, Alfred walks briskly towards the entrance and Dick has to jog to keep up. He grabs ahold of Alfred’s hand, who stutters and glances down at him for a second before walking at a slower pace.

While Alfred is talking to the front desk about the book he placed on hold, Dick heads to the teens section (he knows he’s only eleven, but he’s almost a teen!) to find the Black Widow comic. As he’s looking through the shelves, he notices the book on the highest shelf. Sulking at his short height (he’s sure he’ll be tall soon), Dick tries to climb the shelves to reach. 

“You know that is very dangerous, and you could damage the shelves and books right?” a disapproving voice sounds behind him. 

Dick startles, and before he can fall, he gracefully jumps off, sticking the landing. “Don’t worry! I’m very good with climbing and I’ve been up higher, so I know how to not get hurt. I’m also light so the shelves should be able to ho-” Dick cuts off when he turns to face the person who had spoken. 

Dick is stunned into silence for a moment (the first time he’s ever been speechless) when he makes eye contact with a pretty teenage girl. Long, red hair flows down her back, large black glasses rest on her nose, and her arms, which are covered by a soft cardigan, are crossed in a stern pose. She looks like she has just come from school, as she is still in the Gotham Academy uniform. She clears her throat, getting Dick’s attention as he had lost focus, “Are you even supposed to be here, I can show you to the kid’s section if you would like,” she offers snarkily.

Dick blushes, embarrassed and annoyed that she thinks he’s some immature kid. “I’ll be a teenager soon,” he protests, “I just need that book up there and I can leave. Black Widow is awesome!” He points to the comic, and she reaches up to get it. 

When she hands him the book, Dick smiles at her brightly while still blushing, “Thank you!” He takes off back to the front, glancing back occasionally to see her still watching him a little fondly. 

When he and Alfred are leaving, Dick hopes that he’ll run into the girl again. She’s as pretty and cool as Black Widow! Maybe he should come to the library with Alfred more often. 

….

Bruce is back from work by the time the two of them are done with their errands, and Dick runs up to greet him with a hug. That is another thing he has had to adjust to. His family is very touchy and affectionate, but Dick has learned that if he wants affection from Bruce or Alfred, he has to initiate. It seems Alfred and Bruce aren’t used to how touchy Dick is, but they seem to be adjusting to his spontaneous affection and respond more readily. 

“Hello, Dick,” Bruce smiles softly down at him, “How was your day?”

“It was good! I got a new Black Widow book. Can we read it together?” Dick asks hopefully.

“Of course. How about we read it at bedtime?” Bruce suggests.

Dick nods enthusiastically in agreement. Bruce then asks, “Are you ready to go to the hospital? Visiting hours have just started.”

“Yes!” Dick responds, “Let’s go!” He hurries to the door, tugging Bruce to the garage. Bruce follows along waving at Alfred. “We’ll be back in time for dinner,” Bruce informs Alfred.

The drive to the hospital is filled with silence, as it always is. Both of them usually don’t talk as they are mentally preparing themselves to visit John and Mary. When they get to the hospital, they head straight to the room, as the nurses already recognize them. 

Visiting his parents is always a surreal experience for Dick. They’re so quiet and still in their beds, so different from how they usually sleep. Tati usually is sprawled on his back across the bed, soft snores emitting from him while Daj shifts often to many different positions throughout the night. The three of them usually slept in the same room due to the limited space of their tent, so it has been weird staying in his own large room. Honestly, the past few weeks have felt like an extended sleepover, but these hospital visits remind Dick of the reason he is no longer with the circus and his parents.

Dick and Bruce settle into chairs next to the beds. Bruce was able to get a nice, private room for them, so Dick and Bruce can talk and watch over them in peace. The room is filled with flowers and cards from the circus and other friends that they know. Dick even wrote his own card, so that his parents can see it when they wake up. In it, he talks about what it is like staying at Wayne Manor with Bruce and Alfred and wishes for them to get better. Dick even saw Bruce placing a bouquet with a card on the pile, which is especially nice because he doesn’t actually know his parents. 

Honestly, even though Bruce is a little awkward and stiff, he always is doing such nice things for Dick even though he doesn’t have to. Dick is just a random kid from the circus who happened to have his parents get hurt like Bruce’s parents did (maybe it was pity, but Dick didn’t think so). Sometimes Dick wonders if Bruce would have even noticed Dick outside his performance if the accident didn’t happen. Probably not, and Dick probably wouldn’t have known Bruce was in the audience if not for the accident either. 

Dick thinks that even though it has been painful that his parents got injured, living in Gotham and meeting Bruce and Alfred hasn’t been too bad (it’s always a risk in their profession that they may get injured, and Dick is eternally grateful that they’re still alive). Plus, his parents are slowly improving and the doctors said they should wake up soon. Dick is really excited for when that happens and he keeps hoping each day that he’ll see their kind and loving eyes looking at him once more. 

For a couple hours, Bruce and Dick sit by John and Mary’s bedside, watching their breathing and hearing the machines beep rhythmically. They talk occasionally, even playing a game of two truths and a lie, but really they just sit and enjoy the presence of each other and Dick’s parents. It’s always a reassurance for Dick to see that they are still alive and breathing. He still gets nightmares about how they looked on the ground all bloody. Alfred makes hot chocolate for him on particularly bad nights. 

Dick has weirdly never seen Bruce at night, but that may be because he’s a heavy sleeper. His bedroom door is always locked at night, and he never answers when Dick knocks. During the day, he’s pretty open about letting Dick inside his room or office, but he’s very private at night. Maybe he is a vampire, Dick thinks, but one that doesn’t need to sleep at all, so he’s normal during the day and sucks blood at night. Dick wouldn’t put it past him with the bats he sometimes sees on the gothic property. 

Getting jerked out of his speculation with Bruce’s hand on his shoulder, he turns to Bruce’s curious expression.

“What are you thinking hard about, chum?” he asks, looking amused. 

“Oh nothing, just a show I saw about vampires,” Dick said quickly.

“Oh? What is it called?” Bruce asks.

“Um..Hotel Trannsylvania?” Dick answers.

“Ah. Quite a fun movie, though I wonder what about it could possibly have you thinking so deeply,” Bruce muses.

“Um..Just, you know…that it’s not right to assume people are evil even if they look it? Like even if vampires have to drink blood, that doesn’t mean they want to hurt anyone or deserve to die. Everyone deserves a chance,” Dick says, grasping for straws and hoping if Bruce really is a vampire that it’ll be enough for him to not drink Dick’s blood or realize that he’s not a monster even if he does drink blood. 

Bruce makes a humming sound, and then looks like he remembers something. “Oh right,” he says, “we have to leave because visiting hours are over, so how about we head back to the Manor and see if we can call Mr. Haly and the rest of the circus?” he suggests.

Dick brightens up, nodding excitedly, and then says goodbye to his parents before grabbing Bruce’s hand and leading him to the car as quickly as possible (Bruce won’t let him run in the hallways, ugh ).

When the two are back in the Manor, Bruce takes Dick to the comfy living room with piles of pillows and blankets. Dick loves it here and he spends a lot of time watching TV or playing games in the room. Dick jumps into a pile of blankets and makes Bruce help him build a fort. Once they are snuggled into the fort, Bruce calls Mr. Haly, placing the phone on speaker.

The phone rings a few times, before Dick hears a click and Mr. Haly’s voice saying, “Mr. Wayne? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mr. Haly, I’m here with Dick because he wanted to talk to you and the rest of the circus,” Bruce replies.

“Dick! It’s good to hear from the two of you again! Here, let me gather the rest of the circus.” Mr. Haly trails off as he walks off to gather everyone.

Once everyone is gathered, there is a lot of laughter as they catch up on where the circus currently is, how John and Mary are, Dick’s time at Wayne Manor, and everything in between. It feels a little bittersweet, knowing that he won’t be able to see them in person for a long time, but Dick feels warm and cozy at the moment. He’s cuddled up next to Bruce in their fort while talking to his circus family. 

He is able to call them at least once a week, and that seems to close the distance between them. Dick knows it’s not the same as being there in new places with them, and he really does miss the travel, but he knows everything going on in their lives as he would if he was still with them. 

An hour later, Dick is saying goodbye to everyone. Bruce then gets up with the phone and tells Dick to turn on a show or movie. Dick, who is loath to leave their fort, agrees and switches on the TV. 

Bruce leaves the room, seemingly still on the phone with Mr. Haly. Dick is a little curious, but his attention is caught by Netflix opening up. Before he can choose a movie however, Alfred is walking into the room.

“Master Dick, can you please find Master Bruce, I need to talk to him about dinner today,” Alfred asks.

“Sure!” Dick agrees, reluctantly extracting himself from the fort. Alfred watches him amusedly while he dashes out of the room, running up the stairs to see if Bruce is in his room or office. 

 He hears Bruce’s voice in his office, and is about to knock on the door when he hears, “-John and Mary.” Dick pauses. Are they talking about my parents?

“It will take a while to gather evidence,” he hears Bruce say, “Zucco is part of the mob, so we need appropriate protection for the Graysons and a large amount of irrefutable proof that he purposefully wanted to murder them.”

Dick sucks in a sharp breath, feeling frozen and cold all over. It feels like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him, and not in the fun way like the dunk tank. Based on what he heard, it seemed like the accident wasn’t an accident at all. 

“I know it will take a while, but the sooner that monster is put away, the easier I’ll breathe knowing the Graysons are okay. I still feel so guilty that I couldn’t have prevented it. If only I had given into him at the moment and figured something out later, maybe turned him in to the police. Or maybe I should have just paid the protection money. We would have been struggling for a while, but the Graysons would have still been able to perform, and maybe the mob would leave us alone after we left Gotham,” Haly blubbers tearfully. 

“There’s no use going over what-ifs Mr. Haly. We don’t know what would have happened if you had paid. Maybe the same thing, maybe something better or worse. Now we can only focus on justice. I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep the Graysons safe and Zucco behind bars,” Bruce states resolutely. 

Dick doesn’t hear any more of the conversation. He feels as if he is underwater, the sounds around him muffled. The coldness of shock in his chest is now becoming burning hot anger. Someone from the mob threatened Mr. Haly for money and then sabotaged the performance because he didn’t pay. He wanted to scream at him. WHY WERE MY PARENTS’ LIVES WORTH THE SAME AS A LITTLE BIT OF MONEY. Their lives were priceless . No amount of money would have been enough. His parents lost their careers , their passion. He almost lost everything, just because a mob boss was greedy. Accidents happen, but this wasn’t one and shouldn’t have happened.

Dick sprints to the gym, needing to punch something. He spends an hour working out his aggression on the punching bag before resolving to look into this Zucco person. He needs revenge, and he needs to take matters into his own hands. He knows that Bruce is looking to get evidence to put Zucco in jail, but Dick knows that these powerful people never stay in jail for long. Dick needs to make sure that Zucco can never harm anyone ever again, even if it means fighting him himself. 

He stomps to the library to use the computer, and is in the throes of research when he hears someone else enter. Looking up quickly, he sees Alfred approaching him and tries to cover up what he is working on nonchalantly. Unfortunately, it is no match for Alfred’s trained eye and he notices that something is wrong.

“Master Dick, what are you doing here? I went looking for you and Master Bruce after I asked you to get him as you hadn’t come down, and he said you hadn’t approached him. Dinner is ready,” he looks around and inquires, “I never see you in the library alone. What are you working on so diligently?”

Alfred leans over and surveys the laptop screen with a furrowed eyebrow. “Ah..care to explain?”

“He’s the one that injured my parents!” Dick bursts out, unable to contain it. His chest feels tight enough to explode, tears of anger burning behind his eyes. He clenches his fist on the mouse, unable to look at Alfred’s reaction as he continues to rant. “I need to stop him so he doesn’t hurt anyone else, and I need to get revenge for my parents. They may never be able to fly again!”

Alfred sighs, sounding weary. He drags a chair over to sit next to Dick and forces him to turn and look at him. Alfred’s eyes show understanding and a hint of dread. “Master Bruce was just like this when his parents were killed. He would stop at nothing for revenge, and it has slowly made him bitter.”

At Dick’s incredulous look, he explains, “He may seem fine to you, but it is because you help him, Master Dick. Master Bruce’s pursuit of vengeance is a lonely experience for him, and although having you here is helping him to heal and find happiness again, he still participates in dangerous coping mechanisms. As an adult, he needs to make his own choices, and I can only do my best to support and protect him, but you are a different story. I support him because it is one of the only things keeping him going, but I don’t want you to be as consumed by the need for revenge as he is.”

He carefully continues, “Think of what your parents would want for you. Once they awaken, I am sure that they’d be none too happy to figure out that you tried going after a mob by yourself.” 

At that, Dick tenses up defensively, but Alfred reassures him, “You are eleven years old Master Dick, and while I am sure you can handle yourself, it is up to the adults to work things like this out. You can rely on us to get justice for you and your parents.” 

Taking on a wry tone, he says, “For now, focus on your parents, and help support their healing. They’ll be able to recover better if they aren’t worried about you injuring yourself as well.”

Dick slumps in defeat. He was so caught up in his anger that he failed to think about what would happen to his parents if he died going after Zucco. He resolves to put his frustration and anger towards making sure that his parents recover. It is one way to get back at Zucco, who wanted to hurt them. 

Alfred clears his throat, seemingly having more to say, “Master Dick, correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be bored these days. I have tried to get you out of the Manor more often, but my duties and age make it hard for me to keep up with an energetic child such as yourself.”

Dick hesitantly nods, feeling guilty that he needs even more attention than he already has, but Alfred seems to catch onto the guilt and quickly waves it away, stating firmly, “No need to feel guilty Master Dick. As your guardians it is our duty to make sure you get everything you need, and that includes entertainment and stimulation.”

Dick looks on curiously as Alfred suggests, “Why don’t you talk to Master Bruce about getting out of the manor more often and having more fun. I’m sure that he’ll be able to work it out with you if you tell him how you are feeling. Unfortunately, Master Bruce isn’t the most observant when it comes to emotions.”

Dick’s eyes widen and he protests, “Bruce already does so much for me, and I’m sure he’s really busy. He’s an important person so I don’t want to take up more of his time.”

“As I said Master Dick, it is his responsibility to fulfill all your needs, and this is one of them. At the very least, please talk to him and see what he suggests,” Alfred encourages.

“Ok..” Dick concedes.

….

Dick finds Bruce on his laptop in his office. All throughout dinner, Dick has been trying to find the courage to talk to Bruce. Eventually, after he helped Alfred wash the dishes, Dick steeled himself and looked for Bruce.

Dick clears his throat to get Bruce’s attention and shifts uncomfortably when they make eye contact.

“Dick!” Bruce calls out pleasantly, “Please, come in. How may I help you?”

Dick throws himself onto Bruce’s office couch and gulps before tentatively saying, “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Bruce closes his laptop and leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. Seeing that he has Bruce’s full attention, Dick continues, “I am feeling kinda bored these days. I love visiting the hospital, watching movies, and reading books with you. Doing errands with Alfred is also not bad, but..I think I need a little more things to do?”

Bruce furrows his eyebrows into a thoughtful expression, “I have been meaning to talk to you about something actually. What do you think about attending school? I think it will be good for you socially and academically. How did you study in the circus?”

Dick’s eyes widen in shock. He’s never gone to a regular school before. He was homeschooled in the circus, and he only really learned the basics. He feels a little scared at the thought of going to a traditional school, especially since he’ll probably be a lot more behind that the kids his age. He’s worried that he’ll have to be in a class with younger students, and he’s heard that there can be bullies who are really mean.

On top of that fear, however, Dick feels excited that he’ll be able to meet more kids his age and make more friends. He has friends all around the world, but it has been hard keeping in touch with them. Having friends close by who he can hang out with often sounds like so much fun!

It’ll be nice to see how most kids spend their days, and it’ll be a new, exciting adventure to take on.  

Snapping out of his thoughts, Dick finds Bruce still waiting for his response. “I was homeschooled!” he blurts out quickly. “Going to regular school sounds like fun though! Where would I go?” he asks.

Bruce smiles at him, patiently laying out his options. “I recommend Gotham Academy, but I may be a little biased because I went there. It is a private school, but I don’t mind spending money to get you the best education,” he finishes. He pauses, something else occurring to him. “The only downside is that the kids there can be a bit preppy, and may look down on you because you weren’t born in a rich family, however, I believe that you can win them over. You are a kind and friendly soul, Dick, and you bring out the best in people,” Bruce says warmly. 

His smile becomes sharper. “Anyway, if anyone messes with you, please come to me or Alfred,” he expresses ominously, tone edging on threatening.

Dick's eyes widen in awe at how ready Bruce is to defend him. He feels so safe with him and Alfred, knowing that they won’t let anything happen to him. Because of that, he’s willing to take a chance.

“I think I’d like to try that school,” he says hesitantly, slowly smiling as Bruce’s eyes light up in excitement. 

“Alright,” Bruce mutters, rapidly pulling things up on his laptop. Before he can completely get sucking into enrolling Dick into Gotham Academy, he jolts as he remembers something. 

“Oh, Dick, one more thing,” he calls out, “I was talking to Commissioner Gordon today, and he suggested introducing you to his daughter. She’s fifteen, so she’s a little older than you, but she’s very nice, and I think it will be good for you to have her as a friend.”

Dick feels both excited and nervous about this suggestion. He’s always been a social person, so meeting new people sounds amazing, but because he doesn’t have many friends in Gotham, it feels nerve-wracking to try and make a new friend.

“Ok!” he exclaims breathlessly, “I’d love to meet her!”

….

Dick is sitting nervously in a sitting room. His shoulders are tense and his fists are clenched in his lap. He is trying not to tap his foot, but decidedly failing. 

Before he can further spiral about meeting Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, the doorbell rings and his head shoots up to face the door. He can hear Alfred’s footsteps walk to the entrance and the sound of the door opening. Bruce’s voice travels as he greets their guests, and it slowly gets louder as the group approaches the room Dick is in.

The door creaks open, and the first thing Dick sees is bright red hair. A very familiar shade of bright red hair. 

“You!” he exclaims, jumping up and pointing at the girl from the library. 

“Master Dick!” Alfred scolds, bewildered at his outburst, “Where are your manners?”

Chastised, Dick slumps back down in his seat, but the girl, who he now knows is Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, giggles. “It’s okay, Mr. Pennyworth, Dick and I have met before, though it was only in passing. I’m sure he was just surprised,” she placates. Her smile then turns mischievous as she says, “I’m surprised as well. I thought Mr. Wayne’s ward would be taller.”

Dick huffs in protest, but before he can defend himself from the slight, Commissioner Gordon speaks up. “That’s great that you’ve met before! The three of us will leave you alone to talk,” he interjects pleasantly.

Alfred sets down a plate of cookies and tea on the coffee table, and the three adults leave the room. There is a moment of pause as he and the girl from the library (a.k.a Miss Gordon) stare each other down, before Dick breaks, too many questions bubbling up inside him.

Dick rambles, “I didn’t know you were Commissioner Gordon’s daughter! What's that like? He’s really nice. Also what’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you girl from the library. And-”

“Hey, settle down,” she interrupts, “I’ll answer all your questions. Let’s just take it slow.”

She sits down in an armchair across from Dick, and picks up a cup of tea, taking a small sip. She then lowers the cup back to the tray, and introduces herself to Dick, “My name is Barbara Gordon, and I love being the Commissioner's daughter. You’re lucky I didn’t call him when you were climbing on the shelves,” she says smirking.

Dick groans in defeat. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asks rhetorically. 

“Nope!” Barbara chirps, “How was the book by the way? Was it worth almost breaking your neck for?”

“I didn’t almost break my neck! You know I’m a trapeze artist. I was fine!” Dick retorts, “Also it was totally worth it. I read it with Bruce and it was so awesome!”

Before Dick can continue raving about the Black Widow comic, Barbara smiles at him and takes another sip of tea. “How are you doing, by the way?” she questions.

Dick sobers up, and says truthfully, “I’m doing okay! Hanging in there. Staying with Bruce and Alfred is helping, but I’m so bored.”

“Ah, yes. Bruce told me that you are going to start at Gotham Academy to help relieve your boredom. I also attend the school, but I’m in the high school, not middle school like you are,” Barbara informs him, “You can still come and find me if you need anything. Bruce also told me this was the first time you’re going to a traditional school. The campuses are walking distance from each other. Just make sure to call and let me know you’re coming.”

Dick’s eyes have started to sparkle in awe. Barbara is even cooler than he thought! She’s like Black Widow right down to the hair. “Ok!” he chirps in response, making note to try and see her as much as possible. 

The two of them talk for a long time, but it feels so short. Dick thinks that Barbara is really nice, even though she teases him a lot. She doesn’t treat him like a little kid, and he thinks that they can actually be good friends. He got over his shyness of talking to a pretty girl after the first hour, and the conversation flowed freely. 

The door bursts open after a while, startling them from their deep conversation about sports. Dick had eaten half the plate of cookies, and Barbara had finished her tea. 

They turn to the entrance and find both Bruce and Commissioner Gordon panting in the open doorway. Bruce is clutching his phone in his shaking hand. 

“Dick!” Bruce gasps out. Dick shoots to his feet in concern. “What happened?” he cries, fear shooting through him. Did something happen to his parents? Did Zucco get them?

“Your father woke up.”

Chapter Text

A beeping sound echoes in the all-encompassing darkness. John tries to stir, but his body feels heavy, weighed down by an invisible force. John isn’t used to feeling this way. His lithe body has always been easy to move, light enough to twist and turn in the air.

John’s mind scrambles to grasp what is going on. The last thing he remembers is starting their first performance in Gotham. John had been weary about Gotham after hearing stories about what it is like, but he convinced himself not to judge it based on word of mouth. Being Romani, John knows all too well what it is like to have people dislike you based on rumors and prejudices. 

When the trapeze equipment went missing, he started to truly believe what he had heard about Gotham’s crime, but he resolved himself to continue on. The show must go on. Besides, the people of Gotham seemed to really need some joy in their lives. 

When a sharp pain in his head makes his temples throb, John begins to regret agreeing to the Gotham performances, no matter how profitable they were promised to be (Gotham is an enigma that seems to have just as many filthy rich people as filthy poor people – a separation, a disconnect of two different worlds in one city). 

John forces his eyes open despite the bright light that greets him, exacerbating the headache afflicting him. His ears start to buzz and a ringing sound reverberates through his mind. He tries to let out a groan, but it comes out more as a wheeze. 

Panic starts to set in as he feels unable to move his body, paralyzed. His surroundings are too blurry to comprehend, but the beeping noise, that he now registers as medical equipment, suggests he is in the hospital. 

The noise starts to pick up, as John wills his head to turn, trying to find a way to call someone. Just as his face starts to shift to the side, movement catches his eye as a vague, fuzzy figure enters the room. The figure seems to go straight for the machines, not noticing John’s eyes on them.

“Hmm…increased heart-rate,” the figure mutters, seemingly making note of it on an iPad. “Maybe he’ll awaken so-,” the figure freezes, having turned to face John and most likely noticing his squinted eyes observing them. 

“Oh my god!” they exclaim, “Mr. Grayson! One second, I’ll go get the doctor.” The figure hurries out of the room, vanishing in the doorway. John starts to relax, knowing that someone has been informed of his awakening. 

A few silent, painful minutes later, multiple figures hurry in. One in a white coat rushes to John’s side, shining a light into his eyes to assess his pupils. John winces, as his head throbs harshly. 

“Mr. Grayson, what is your name? What is your date of birth?”, the figure, who John assumes is the doctor, asks.

John tries to speak, but all that leaves is a painful croak. Hands pull John upright for a second so he can sip from a cup of water that has been tipped to his mouth. John tries to speak again, but he is still unable to make more than a soft noise, though his throat hurts significantly less. 

“Mr. Grayson, could you please blink once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’ while I ask you questions instead?” the doctor questions in response. 

John blinks once, the only movement he has been able to achieve so far. “Thank you. Do you remember who you are?” One blink. “Do you know where you are?” Two blinks. “You are in Gotham General Hospital. Do you remember how you got injured?” Two blinks. There is a pause after every question as the doctor takes note of John’s responses.

“You and your wife had an unfortunate accident during your trapeze act three weeks ago . Your ropes snapped and you fell from quite the height. It is miraculous that the two of you survived, though a lot of it can be attributed to the immediate care you got on the scene,” the doctor explains.

 With the reminder, John sees a flash of Dick’s horror-struck face standing on a platform above him, the landing way higher than it should have looked. He remembers the queasy feeling of free-falling through an unplanned descent. 

Fear for his child urges John to finally choke out, “D-Dick-”

“Your son has been taken in as ward until you and your wife recover. Mary is still currently in a medically-induced coma. He has come to visit you every day during visiting hours,” the doctor’s voice turns fond at this. “We have contacted his guardian to inform him that you have awakened. He and your son should be here soon.”

John feels weary about someone he doesn’t know taking care of Dick. Foster care doesn’t have the best reputation. However, the doctor’s fondness and the fact that Dick was allowed to visit every day eases John’s worry a little. 

As the doctor and nurses continue running tests, John settles back with his mind on his future reunion with Dick and concern for Mary. He misses his family, and he can’t wait to see his boy again. 

….

The door slams open, startling John out of his doze. He hears the pitter-patter of familiar feet before small hands are gently shaking him.

“Tati?” whispers a young, sweet voice. It’s tinged with a mix of hope and fear.

“Dick, please let your father rest. He needs it. We’ll stay long enough for you to see him awaken,” a deep, baritone voice resounds in the quiet room.

The thought of seeing his son causes John to force his eyes open, smiling gently at the blurry figure that he recognizes as Dick. His son is leaning expectantly over the bed, clutching onto John’s shoulder. “Hello, little robin,” he croaks out, nearly inaudible, wishing he can bring his hand up to cradle Dick’s cheek. Although he has gained a little more ability to speak, it takes him an extreme amount of effort to make any movements. 

Still, Dick is close enough to be able to hear him, and the sound of sniffles and sobs reaches John’s ears. Dick throws his arms around John as much as he can in a desperate hug, but John is unable to hug him back. Feeling trapped in his own body and unable to comfort his child, John feels tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as well. Dick looks like he has grown already in the three weeks John was in a coma, his skin a little lighter from Gotham’s gloomy weather and his hair shorter from a recent haircut. Although John’s vision is still heavily restricted, the changes he can see in his son make him ache with what he has missed. 

A hand on Dick’s shoulder, squeezing gently, turns John’s attention to the man that had entered the room with his son. From his limited sight, John notes his towering, bulky stature, large calloused hands, and neat black hair. What stands out the most, however, is his piercing blue eyes that can be seen more clearly than any of his other features. Despite their intensity, they contain gentleness and fondness when aimed at Dick, something that relieves John. The most he could have hoped for was someone to care for his son while John couldn’t, and it looks like this person did.

Dick has leaned into the man’s hand for comfort, not scared or tense around him at all. Eventually, Dick breaks away from the hug, wiping his eyes and nose. The man pulls up two chairs to John’s bed and helps Dick into one before sitting himself. 

There’s a moment of silence while everyone figures out what to say, until the man clears his throat, speaking up, “Mr. Grayson, my name is Bruce Wayne. I am currently Dick’s guardian until you and your wife recover.” There is a pause before he continues, “I was at the performance that night, and Mr. Haly entrusted Dick to me as the circus was unable to stay in Gotham indefinitely.”

John nods his head in acknowledgement, thinking over Mr. Wayne’s words. It seems that Haly trusted him enough to allow him to foster Dick in the circus’s absence, so John resolves to relax his suspicion a little around the man. He doesn’t completely trust him yet, but if the man continues to show that he has Dick’s best interests at heart, then John may trust him in time. Dick seems comfortable with him, and John reminds himself to talk to Dick about his true feelings when they are alone together. Dick’s safety is paramount. Even if John is stuck in a hospital bed, he will do anything to protect his son.

Then a feeling of recognition flashes through John. The name Bruce Wayne is known to him in some capacity, but he can’t seem to place him. “Do..” John rasps, “Do I know you?”

A little giggle escapes Dick, and the familiar sound is like a balm to John’s tattered soul. “Tati..everyone knows him!” Dick exclaims, stifling his amusement, “He’s rich!”

“Is that all I am known for?!” Bruce questions exaggeratedly, looking mock-offended. Dick dissolves into giggles once more, cheerily agreeing, “Yes!” and not even looking a little regretful.

“I’ll have you know, I can speak multiple languages, run a company, and went to medical school!” Bruce defends himself, “That’s more than being rich!”

“You can do all that because you are rich, Bruce!” Dick corrects him, “Plus you dropped out of medical school on a whim to travel the world. That’s something only rich people do.”

Throughout their playful argument, John has remembered that Bruce Wayne is a billionaire , one of the richest men in the world. Why someone like him would want to take in a circus child is a mystery to John. Maybe he thinks of Dick like a pet or wants to do it for good publicity. Before he can voice these scathing remarks; however, he also remembers that Mr. Wayne had watched his parents get murdered when he was even younger than Dick. 

Oh.

With a sudden clarity, John finally understands. He had been wondering why a random stranger who happened to have seen his and Mary’s tragic accident would take in their child so easily. It was a grieving orphan wanting to help a child going through something similar. 

John softens towards Mr. Wayne at that moment. He is grateful beyond words that Mr. Wayne had the compassion to not just pay to help Dick, but to actively care for him as a guardian. Parenting is a much bigger responsibility, especially with a traumatized child. 

Before John can express this gratitude, Dick speaks up again, “I’m glad you did go to medical school though. It helped you save Daj and Tati.”

Dick and Mr. Wayne sober up at that, and John’s eyes widen in surprise. “You did?” he whispers in the melancholy silence. 

Dick nods, tears coming back to his eyes, and washing away all traces of  amusement. “The nurse said it was thanks to his help that you and Daj survived,” he says somberly. 

“I would do what any decent person would do,” Mr. Wayne hastily explains, “It was in my power, and-” he gulps, “I am very happy you and Mary survived. Don’t worry about any medical bills. Just focus on getting better.”

At that John suddenly looks around, noticing he is in a private room with only Mary for company. He can only see a vague blob on her bed, but she looks unsettlingly still. He initially thought that it was due to the severity of their injuries, but if Bruce Wayne is paying for his hospital stay, then it seems he and Mary have really lucked out to be at the end of his generosity.

John’s throat feels tighter than normal, and he is only able to choke out, “Thank you,” which doesn’t encompass half the things he is feeling. Before the mood can drop even more, John asks Dick, “Little robin, what did I miss?”

The boy perks up a little, and starts rambling about the routine he has had at Wayne Manor. He talks about their daily hospital visits, errands with Mr. Wayne’s butler (a butler -his kid better not turn out spoiled), the giant gym at the manor, and a pretty girl named Barbara who is “just like Black Widow.” 

Dick spins out a colorful picture of what his life has been like for the past three weeks, and John is relieved that he has had a good time there and is being cared for properly. Everything seems normal, discounting the quirks of the insanely rich (who builds an entire gym catered to one child??), until Dick ends with, “-I think he’s a vampire, Tati.”

What?

John thinks his TBI is acting up because he couldn't have heard that, but Mr. Wayne sounds just as shocked and confused when he queries, “What makes you say that?”

Dick looks guilty when he remembers that Bruce is also there, seemingly having lost his filter in his excitement. “You are very private at night and live in a big, old manor like most vampires. Plus you’re really pale..” Dick says, making Mr. Wayne self-consciously cover his exposed hands.  “I know you won’t hurt me, though, you’re really nice,” Dick hurriedly adds. 

“I’m..not a vampire, Dick,” Bruce says, reasonably, still sounding a little taken aback. 

“Ok! I’m sure you’re not ‘cuz vampires don’t exist,” Dick says with an exaggerated enough wink that even John can make it out, probably not actually believing it. Bruce just sighs as John gives him a sympathetic look. Dick’s creativity knows no bounds, and his parents have frequently been the subjects of his imaginative mind.

“Just roll with it, buddy.”

….

John grunts with effort as he inches forward. His hands whiten as he desperately clings to the poles bracketing his body. 

“Ok, Mr. Grayson, just five more feet, and we’ll be done for today,” his physical therapist says encouragingly. He’s stood at the end of the poles as John slowly, painstakingly walks toward him.

“You got this, Tati!” Dick exclaims from the chairs at the side of the room. In the past two months of John’s recovery, Dick has insisted on accompanying him everywhere during visiting hours. Often, that includes watching his physical therapy sessions.

John had initially been hesitant to allow Dick to see him at his weakest, in pain and frustrated about his slow progress. However, having his son’s presence cheering him on was a huge motivator for John. He pushed himself more at the reminder that his son needs him to get better. 

Most of the time, Dick got bored just watching, so Mr. Wayne, Bruce now at his insistence, took to bringing various board games to their visiting sessions. At the current moment, they are playing Candyland, one of Dick’s favorites that he always insists on playing while eating candy. They are sat on the floor by the visitor chairs, and Bruce is looking annoyed as he has been stuck trying to get the correct card to end the game for multiple rounds. 

John sends a shaky smile towards Dick as a bead of sweat drops down his temple. He then focuses completely on the last few steps, and then collapses on the wheelchair held by a smiling nurse once he reaches the end of the poles. 

“Excellent work, Mr. Grayson,” the physical therapist intones. John smiles at him gratefully before the nurse takes him back to his room. Bruce and Dick follow after cleaning up the board game. Dick is smiling cheerfully while Bruce broods, so John assumes Dick won. 

After John is settled back in his hospital bed, Dr. Robinson (Dick had found her name exciting because they matched) enters the room, looking over the notes from physical therapy.

“Alright, Mr. Grayson, it looks like you are making good progress with your physical therapy. If it continues like this, we can look to discharge you in a few weeks!”

John sucks in a surprised breath. He didn’t think he was even close to a discharge, but he can’t say he’s not excited to finally be out of here. The food here is abysmal, and if it weren’t for Bruce’s butler, Alfred, sending actual food with the visiting pair, John doesn’t know how he could have handled it. John hasn’t met Alfred yet, but his delicious food and Dick’s high praise speak for themselves. John hopes his discharge means he can meet the butler soon.

 Dick looks excited as well, but before John can inquire more about his discharge, Dr. Robinson explains further, “You would still need outpatient care for a full recovery, of course, but in a few weeks you won’t need to stay at the hospital. Do you have a place you can stay?”

 Before John can deny it, Bruce speaks up, “He’ll stay with us at Wayne Manor. There’s plenty of room, and it’ll be beneficial for other people to be around in case he needs assistance. Additionally, his child is living there with me, so they’ll be able to stay close to each other, which I’m sure they would both like.”

 “Yes!” Dick yells happily. 

John turns widened eyes to Bruce and asks breathlessly, “Are you sure you’re okay with that, Bruce? You’ve done plenty for us already. I would need to stay in Gotham for the foreseeable future, at the very least until both Mary and I are fully healed, but I can always try and find a place for myself..”

Bruce waves him off, almost scoffing, “Nonsense. I already think of Dick as family, so his family is my family. I have enough resources to support many more people, so don’t worry about it, John. Just focus on your family and getting better.”

John’s chest warms as he hears the genuineness in Bruce’s statement. He has also started thinking of Bruce and Alfred as part of Dick’s (and possibly even his and Mary’s) family. 

This has him thinking about what happens after he and Mary recover. They may never be able to perform again, but even if they could, would they want to separate Dick from the people who have loved and cared for him all this time? 

He feels conflicted. He misses the circus immensely, but Dick seems so happy here. He has stability, something he never really had at the circus no matter how freeing it was. Dick even told him how he has started at a school called Gotham Academy, apparently a really good private one. He has heard all about the friends Dick has made, including Commissioner Gordon’s daughter. John thinks Dick may even have a bit of a crush on her. 

Commissioner Gordon has visited a few times, initially to question him about the accident, and then to check up on him. He seems like a good man.

All in all, Dick has established a life here, and John would hate to drag him away from it, no matter how willingly Dick would leave. As his parent, John has to do what is best for him and his future. 

Dick has also talked about staying in touch with the circus, so it may be a little easier on the homesickness for all of them if they can continue doing so. The wonders of modern technology make communication a lot smoother. 

Additionally, John is sure that they can find a way to participate in acrobatics and gymnastics in Gotham. If not, maybe when he has recovered enough, he can open his own gym and coach. He wouldn’t mind that. He loved teaching Dick acrobatics. He doesn’t think Bruce would mind funding its opening, especially if John pays him back eventually. John gets the feeling that Bruce would do anything (hopefully within reason) to make Dick happy. 

John is drawn out of his thoughts about the future when the doctor leaves, probably having finished giving out information about his discharge. John will have to ask for a reminder later, but for now he resolves to talk about his thoughts with the rest of the family once he and Mary do recover. He glances over at Mary’s bed. He hopes she can see his point of view. 

“I need to use the restroom!” Dick exclaims, startling John. He runs to the door and both Bruce and John call after him in tandem, “No running in the hallway!”

“ Fine. ” Dick’s exasperated voice floats back. 

Bruce and John are left alone in a comfortable silence. John hasn’t really gotten the chance to talk to Bruce alone because they are always accompanied by a little, charming robin, but from the few interactions they have had, John thinks they’ll get along splendidly. John had a few close friends in the circus, but with them so far away, he thinks it’ll be nice to have a kind, patient friend like Bruce around. 

John takes this opportunity to talk to Bruce about something he has wanted to bring up for a while. He clears his throat to get Bruce’s attention, and intense eyes focus on him. 

“I..um…want to talk to you about something..in private,” John starts hesitantly. 

Bruce’s eyebrows raise in interest. Although he wants to look away, John maintains eye contact to project his sincerity. 

“I want to thank you for everything you have done for my family. You have gone above and beyond what someone who was once a stranger to us would do. You have given Dick a family and friends while he was grieving, and you have helped him blossom in a new city away from all he has ever known,” John says seriously, but not without an undertone of emotion. 

Bruce tries to respond, but John holds up a hand, silently asking him to let him continue. “I also want to acknowledge that it is okay if you think of Dick as a son. It takes but a moment to fall in love with our little robin, and I really can’t blame you for doing so,” he chuckles. 

He looks determinedly at Bruce before suggesting, “I believe he also sees you as a father figure, and I honestly don’t mind us sharing the role, especially since you have been parenting him for so long and I know you also want what’s best for Dick.”

“I’ll admit,” he winces ashamedly, “I still feel a pang of jealousy when I see you doing things with him that I am unable to do, but I am eternally more grateful that we are lucky enough to have you taking care of him when we can’t.”

Bruce seemingly flounders, looking wide-eyed. John waits for him to gain back his bearings, and eventually Bruce replies, “John, I love that little boy so much. You and Mary have created such a special person, and I am so glad that I have gotten to know him. Taking care of him is a pleasure, and he has infused the manor with so much happiness and love.”

The two of them have started tearing up, appreciating the gift to the world Dick Grayson is. Bruce continues, “It would be an honor to be a father figure to him. The four of us, Mary and Alfred included, will raise Dick to be an amazing person, I’m sure.”

John nods in agreement, and he knows whatever happens next, he can count on Bruce.

When Dick runs in a couple minutes later, he pauses near the doorway. “Why do you look sad?” he asks curiously. 

“We’re not sad Dick, we’re happy,” John corrects. “Would you like it if Bruce was another dad to you?”

Bruce looks shocked that he would ask outright, but John knows what Dick’s answer will be.

His eyes grow big, and he cries out, “That can happen?! I can have two dads?”

John chuckles, “Yes, Dick. There are many people with more than one dad. More than one mom too. Sometimes their parents remarry and they have stepparents that are additional parents or their parents are a same-sex couple. Families come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Whoa.” Dick blurts out, amazed. 

“What do you say, chum?” Bruce adds, “Want Alfred and I to be your family too?”

“YES! Yes, yes!” Dick shouts, jumping up and down.

….

It’s a week before John’s discharge when he hears something change in the bed next to him. Mary’s condition had improved enough for her to be taken out of the medical coma. At this point, they are waiting for her to wake up on her own. 

A louder than usual beep pulls John out of the puzzle he is working on. His vision and concentration have improved greatly, but reading or watching screens for long periods of time still give him headaches. 

He lifts his head and glances over at Mary hopefully. He observes her form shrewdly, looking for any movement. When he hears a small moan of pain, he hurries to push his call button. 

“Dràgo [darling],” he calls out, “Mary!”

He doesn’t get a response. A nurse rushes in, looking over him worriedly. “Mr. Grayson, are you okay?” she asks, concerned.

“Yes, I am fine. I think I heard my wife make a sound. Can you please check on her?” John replies, gesturing to Mary’s bed. 

The nurse looks taken aback for a second before moving to Mary’s bed. She takes her vitals and quickly turns on her pager. “Can I please get a doctor over to the Graysons’ room. Mrs. Grayson may be waking up,” she says. 

John sucks in a breath of anticipation, looking for any more signs of life from his kamli. When Dr. Robinson and more nurses rush in, they block his view of her, and he can’t understand the medical jargon they use. 

No longer interested in the puzzle, he reaches for a phone that Bruce gave him (despite his protests) to call him over. 

Mary’s awake, he texts frantically, bring Dick as soon as you can.

His phone pings with a response in seconds. On my way to pick him up. Will be there in 30 mins.

He sets it down, relieved, and waits for the doctor and nurses to make their assessment. 

He hears a mutter, “I don’t think she can hear us clearly.”

His heart drops. He knew she would have some permanent effects from such a traumatic injury, but he really hopes it’s temporary. His Mary loves music. It flows through her veins. 

After what feels like a long time, Dr. Robinson approaches him. “Mr. Grayson, I’m sure you’re curious to know how your wife is doing,” she says briskly. John nods. 

“She is having trouble hearing and making sense of our words. This is a common symptom of a traumatic brain injury, and only time will tell how permanent it will be. I’ll page an audiologist and neurologist to come take a look at her in a little while. She might need hearing aids in the future,” the doctor explains, “However, she is surprisingly very aware and alert, which is a lot better than we expected. She should be able to maintain short conversations, but you will just need to write out what you would like to say.”

She hands John a notebook and marker, and when John glances back at Mary’s bed, the nurses have cleared enough for him to see his dràgo [darling] sitting up and looking back at him. Her beautiful blue eyes that she shares with their son shine and he can feel tears pouring down his cheeks. 

“Glad to see you awake, my love” he writes on a page in the notebook, holding it up for her to see. Her reaction is faint, but it’s there. Her usually vibrant smile is a tad subdued but no less beautiful. 

In a moment of deja vu, the door slams open. Dick runs in dressed in his school uniform. This is the first time John has seen him in it and he looks adorable. 

He goes straight to Mary and hugs her tight. She closes her eyes, probably reveling in his warmth. Bruce ambles in a minute later, looking amused and happy. When Dick tries to talk to her, John relays the information the doctor gave him and hands him the notebook and marker. 

While Dick writes to his mom, Mary responds in short, strained sentences (god hearing her sweet voice is such a relief). Bruce helps John out of his bed and supports him as he makes his way to his wife and son. He collapses on the bed and brings them both into a clinging, Grayson hug. 

With the two of them in his arms, and Bruce watching over them protectively, John knows that everything will work out. They’ll all be okay. 

Chapter Text

Alfred places the steaming hot dish on the dining table just so. To him, his job is art. Everything he does as a butler is to have Wayne Manor looking immaculate. Every guest that comes through the doors will look around the manor in awe of its beauty.

Every little move he makes is deliberate, the table set in an artful pattern, dishes placed in a tempting manner to lure in diners. As he has been a butler for the majority of his life, the moves appear effortless, encompassing his being. Though many would not, Alfred takes pride in his work, perfectly content to be known and remembered as a butler. He has even requested it to be included on his gravestone when his old age inevitably catches up to him.

Today is an especially important day, for he is going to finally be able to meet Mary Grayson. Mr. Grayson had been discharged two months ago while Mrs. Grayson still had to stay in the hospital until she was well enough for outpatient treatment. Alfred heard that her injuries were more severe, so she needed a longer hospital stay than Mr. Grayson. Alfred made sure she received daily meals when the rest of the household went to visit her, but unfortunately, his duty tied him to tending to the manor.

Alfred doesn’t want the first impression the Grayons have of him to be in the hospital. He wants them to witness him in his element, to see his dedication towards the residents of Wayne Manor.

Honestly, Alfred has been thriving recently. Looking after Master Bruce has always been a delightful experience, nevermind the man’s regrettable angst and unconventional coping mechanisms, but Alfred has always been happier when looking after more people. 

The addition of first Master Dick and then Mr. Grayson has reinvigorated the butler anew. Having a precocious child run through the manor once more makes his eyes fog up with nostalgia, though he could do without the additional gray hairs and broken antiques. 

Mr. Grayson has been able to help Master Bruce become a proper guardian to Master Dick. Master Bruce used to flail about, uncertain about how to take care of a unique child such as Master Dick, but the experienced Mr. Grayson’s support and guidance has made Master Bruce more settled in his role. Mr. Grayson is a very calm man, the anchor for the more expressive and high-strung  members of the household. Alfred is pleased to have someone assist him in calming and managing the others, the two of them very similar in personality. 

Honestly, Alfred’s ward used to declare he doesn’t need anyone’s help, but seeing how he has blossomed under the combined company and care of himself and the male Graysons says differently. Alfred wonders how the motherly presence of Mary Grayson will influence Master Bruce as well. From what he hears, she seems a vibrant woman, something Master Dick seems to have inherited from her. With the bright auras radiating from the two, Alfred is sure the manor won’t be dark or gloomy for a long while. 

Alfred nudges the plate into the proper precise position to complete the dinner aesthetic. He had asked Mr. Grayson to compile a list of Mrs. Grayson’s favorite dishes. He must say, her tastes include a variety of cultural cuisines, the one consistent flavor being a large amount of spice. 

Alfred makes sure to make a separate spice level for Master Bruce and himself. Unfortunately, his British background hasn’t exposed them to many spicy foods, and he fears Master Bruce will not be able to handle the Graysons’ spice level. 

Table set, Alfred pads around the manor one last time before the rest of the residents get home from the hospital. He makes some more minor adjustments before standing, back straight, in front of the entrance door to be prepared to greet everyone.

The security system notifies him of their arrival before they make it to the door and he moves to open it as they reach the front stoop. Mrs. Grayson startles, but the rest of the group laughs as they are used to Alfred’s promptness. 

“Mrs. Grayson, please allow me to welcome you into Wayne Manor. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler. I hope your discharge went smoothly,” Alfred greets smoothly.

Mrs. Grayson seems awkward as she leans into Mr. Grayson’s side. She’s still in a wheelchair as she hasn’t been able to walk for long periods of time, but Master Bruce was able to find a physical therapist to come to the manor weekly to improve her mobility and Alfred made sure to make the manor wheelchair-accessible. She’s wearing hearing aids as the fall had damaged her hearing, but Master Dick and Mr. Grayson informed him that her head injury had improved enough that the hearing aids make everything sound mostly clear. 

Mr. Grayson is beaming by her side, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder in reassurance. Master Dick is standing on her other side, holding her hand, and wrapped comfortably in many layers of clothes to keep him out of the cold. Alfred thinks Master Bruce went a little too far in dressing him because the young boy is shuffling stiffly, not able to access his full range of motion with the thick clothing. 

Regardless, the boy doesn’t seem affected by it, too busy with his joy at having both his parents awake and released from the hospital. Recovery is still going to be a long journey, but this is a big step in the right direction. The entire family is finally under one roof. 

Alfred shuffles to the side in invitation for the group to escape the chilly autumn air. Master Bruce brings up the rear, giving Alfred a small smile in greeting. Alfred doesn’t physically smile in return, but he knows his boy can see it projected from his eyes. Alfred greedily hoards every smile from his son, rare and fleeting as they are, but they have become increasingly frequent and Alfred couldn’t be more grateful. 

Alfred’s dynamic with Master Bruce has always been complicated. He has always had to tow the line between employee and guardian. Alfred loves Master Bruce like a son, but his responsibilities as a butler have made it harder to express it to him in the name of remaining professional.  

Resolving to find time to be more parental towards Master Bruce (most likely on his days off), Alfred closes the door and leads the group to the room he set up for Mrs. Grayson. He had arranged it on the first floor to make it easier to navigate to, and he had installed a large bed in case her husband and son wanted to sleep in the same room as her. 

After unloading all her luggage, which doesn’t amount to a lot as most of the Graysons’ things were already moved to the manor when Master Dick arrived, Mary seems on the verge of falling asleep right then and there on her wheel-chair. Her eyes are drooping and it looks like she is fighting to keep her head up. 

“Mrs. Grayson, we’ll leave you to sleep soon, but I’d like you to have some dinner before resting. Master Dick has been kind enough to give me a list of your favorite foods, so I hope they are to your taste,” Alfred addresses her. 

Mrs. Grayson’s manners seem to kick in and she straightens up, nodding, and moves to roll herself out of the room. Master Dick hurries behind her asking if he can push, the young boy eager and proud to show off the strength he developed while working out at the manor’s gym daily. 

Mrs. Grayson smiles at Dick fondly, chucking him under his chin before nodding in agreement. Mrs. Grayson’s smile is a little awkward as she had to get jaw surgery for a broken jaw, and though it is much improved, she still has braces and rubber bands to keep it in place for the next few weeks. She is thankfully healed enough to eat solid food, but Alfred made sure to make the softer foods on Master Dick’s list. 

The group follows Alfred into the dining room and crowds around the set table. Alfred had purchased a larger dining table the day after Master Bruce had brought the young acrobat home. It has a turning platform in the middle of the circular table so people may access all available dishes. 

Alfred usually doesn’t join the other residents in the manor for meals, instead spending the time making sure their glasses and plates are filled and the table clean. The mood of the dining room at the moment is comfortable, but quiet. They all seem tired out from all the excitement of Mrs. Grayson’s discharge. The room is filled with the sounds of silverware clinking on Alfred’s best china dishes. He has gone all out for the occasion, and everyone seems to be enjoying the food, though even the milder version seems to be making Master Bruce pant and chug water.

After they all seem finished and satiated, Alfred clears the dishes, and brings out a chocolate cream pie, Mrs Grayson’s favorite dessert. She laughs when she sees it, patting her full stomach. “I didn’t think I could eat anymore, but I seem to have a second stomach for dessert,” she slurs, amused. 

Master Dick giggles and his father and guardian chuckle along. Alfred spares them a soft smirk as he lays the fragrant pie in the middle of the table. The occupants who had once been entering a food coma, all take a fork and dig in. 

Master Bruce cuts a slice and tries handing it to Alfred, who initially refuses. After a few rounds of insistence and young Master Dick’s pouting, Alfred reluctantly takes the plate and consumes small polite bites.  

He glances around the room as he does so, and compares the atmosphere to that of a year ago where the only occupant was a serious and somber Master Bruce. He smiles to himself, satisfied.

Alfred urges the group to head to bed after they finish dessert, clearing the table after they leave. He eats his own dinner from the leftovers, and then clears the sink of dishes. 

As he walks through Wayne Manor, he passes by each door listening for rustling. The Graysons seem to have piled on Mrs. Grayson’s bed for the night, and Master Bruce seems to be down in the cave as his room is empty. 

Alfred makes sure his emergency communicator is on when he gets ready for bed, not wanting to leave Master Bruce without backup, but there doesn’t seem to be any rogue attacks tonight. It seems like even Gotham is celebrating the Graysons’ return because the night seems to be fairly quiet and Alfred gets a brilliant rest, waking up invigorated and with his entire family under the roof of his protection. 

….

Master Dick stretches his arm up, holding a glittery gold star in his small hand. His other hand is gripped in Master Bruce’s hair, who, as the tallest member of the family, is supporting the young acrobat on his shoulders. It is currently Christmas Eve and the Graysons had been excited to celebrate a traditional American holiday season. 

With the Wayne fortune, it was no large effort to organize the most intricate details that model after Hallmark movies. Thanksgiving had been a resplendent feast of every traditional dish the holiday had to offer. Alfred had scoured his ancestors’ recipes to make a rich array of food the Graysons and Master Bruce deserved. 

For Christmas, Master Bruce had gone all out with the gift shopping, boasting piles of presents for everyone he is close to, including the Graysons, the Gordons, and Alfred himself (though the butler had protested). Master Dick had been especially excited for this, and his parents had to get creative in the hiding places they could find so their son wouldn’t open them before the date.

The family had gone ice skating, done cookie decorating, and held a gingerbread house contest that had devolved into a mess of attempted sabotage. They had a movie night with hot chocolate, and are now decorating the manor with a brilliant Christmas tree and all the lights that could fit on the house and front yard (which was a lot). If Gotham’s light pollution hadn’t already been bad, Alfred is sure Wayne Manor itself would have made the stars near impossible to see with how bright it is.

The fireplace is lit and five stockings hang from its mantle. Alfred has prepared a bag of flour and a boot to wield after the other residents fall asleep and imprint snowy footprints leading towards his domain (the kitchen). He has also convinced Master Bruce to not patrol tonight in the spirit of the holidays unless there is a huge emergency. 

All in all, this year’s holidays are shaping up to be a spectacular end of the year, and not just because of the magnificent fireworks show Alfred has hired for New Years. It has been a time to celebrate the family they have become and the joy they have found through all the pain. 

And they really have become a family. In the two months since Mrs. Mary’s discharge, the Graysons have slowly integrated into Wayne Manor. They all have at least dinner together every day, and Master Dick has started to regard Alfred and Master Bruce in more familial roles (when he had initially viewed them as more platonic) as well. 

Mrs. Mary and Mr. John had approached Alfred and Master Bruce with a serious inquiry one month into their stay. Their near-death experience had reminded them of their mortality and they had reflected on the consequences of their deaths. They wanted to make sure that Master Dick was taken care of if they couldn’t.

 As the circus had already moved on and Master Dick had become attached to Gotham and Wayne Manor, Mr. John and Mrs. Mary had come to the conclusion that in the event of their deaths, they would like Master Dick to remain in Master Bruce and Alfred’s custody. 

It was an emotional discussion and a week after, Master Bruce and Alfred were officially appointed legal guardians of Master Dick in the unfortunate case of his orphanage. Master Dick was very on board with this (though he shuddered to think of his parents death). In fact, just last week when they were participating in the gingerbread house contest, Master Dick had exclaimed, “Stop, Dad!” when Master Bruce had been smearing frosting on his cheek in retaliation for Master Dick knocking over his house. 

Master Bruce had looked shocked, his body frozen as he processed what was said. The 28-year-old probably had never imagined he would be a parent, especially so soon, but Alfred was perfectly content to be a grandparent at his age. Mrs. Mary and Mr. John had giggled at Master Bruce’s expression while Master Dick had grinned toothily, though there was a hint of an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. The young boy had obviously not meant to let it slip, but his mischievous nature had taken delight in flustering Master Bruce. 

The name stuck, and young Master Dick now has three parents and a grandfather. Mrs. Mary and Mr. John’s parents are unfortunately deceased and they have been for years so Master Dick hadn’t really had grandparents looking after him until now. Alfred is determined to fulfill every grandfather stereotype known to man, spoiling the boy even (note: especially) in the face of  his parents’ exasperation. He may even take the boy fishing when the weather warms up. 

The Graysons have also been hard at work in recent months. Master Dick has been adjusting to middle school, Mrs. Mary has been making strides in her physical therapy, and Mr. John has recovered enough to open a gym geared towards gymnastics. Master Bruce was more than happy to invest in the gym, and Mr. John has found delight in coaching classes. Master Dick and Mrs. Mary may sometimes even be guest coaches on occasion. Mr. John is still unable to do many of the complicated moves, but he is brilliant at explaining them and Master Dick is delighted to demonstrate, the natural performer that he is. 

The time has gone by in a whirlwind, but Alfred wouldn’t change anything for the world. The Graysons have brought excitement and joy into lives that had stagnated into a gloomy routine. Their spontaneity has breathed new life into Wayne Manor. 

Now as the holidays progress, Alfred has grown more reflective, examining his life with new lenses. On Christmas morning, after a delicious breakfast Alfred prepared, Master Dick is tearing at his presents while everyone else follows at a more sedate pace. Alfred watches the small, energetic boy rip into the wrapping paper and is distinctly reminded of a younger Master Bruce before the poor boy was touched with tragedy. 

Alfred turns to Master Bruce now and analyzes the micro-expressions on his face. His soft blue eyes lighting up whenever he opens a present, the meticulous way he sets them aside safely, caressing them as if they are invaluable to him despite being able to afford them ten times over. With his newfound happiness, Alfred can finally see the little boy he used to be reflected in Master Bruce’s face. He has found his childlike innocence again, something that was ripped away from him far too soon. 

Alfred’s words get stuck in his throat, but he knows he has to say it. In his own grief, he hadn’t been able to say it to young Master Bruce, and it was a great disservice to the mourning boy. Alfred needs to right this wrong and properly express his love and pride. 

After the gifts are open and pictures are taken (pajamas on everyone, but Alfred), Alfred catches Master Bruce’s arm as the others leave.

“Master Bruce,” he starts, “May I please talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure, Alfred! What do you need?” Master Bruce asks.

“I wanted to talk to you about something I have been musing on for a while now,” Alfred explains. He leads him to the couch so they may sit together. Master Bruce’s face flickers in concern, realizing that it is not a routine topic that Alfred wants to discuss. 

“Seeing you thrive as a parent towards Master Dick, has reminded me of some of my shortcomings as your guardian,” Alfred continues. Master Bruce tries to interject, but Alfred levels him with a stern look.

“I have realized that I haven’t made it obvious enough how much I love you. I am very thankful to have you as a part of my life and I take pride in the man you have become. It seems I have found it difficult to separate my duties as a butler and as a father, which has resulted in me being too professional with you at times, but I would like to remedy that,” Alfred declares. 

Master Bruce’s eyes are wide, not seeming to have expected what Alfred was going to say. It takes a lot to surprise the detective, though it has been happening more often with the Graysons around. Usually Alfred takes pride in catching the smart man off guard, but in this moment, he can only feel ashamed. His love for his ward should not have surprised him.

More determined than ever, Alfred announces, “We should participate in father-son bonding when I am off-duty. I noticed that there is a farmers market this coming Sunday. Would you like to go together? Just you and me,” he invites. 

Master Bruce suddenly looks eager, the childlike innocence coming back, making Alfred’s heart ache. He then blushes slightly, looking shy. Looking down at his hands in his lap, Master Bruce softly agrees, “Alright, Alfred. I’ll clear my schedule.”

The day they go to the farmer’s market is one of the rare sunny Gotham days (especially in the middle of winter). They walk through the stalls as Alfred purchases items that Master Bruce seems attracted to, spoiling him like any parent is wont to do at times. 

It is the most relaxed they’ve been with each other in some time, and at the end of the day, Bruce returns Alfred’s ‘I love you’.

….

It happens on a patrol when Alfred is in the cave as Agent A. There is no one supervising Wayne Manor except for the Graysons. He almost doesn’t hear it, too absorbed in tracking Batman’s movements.

What snaps him out of his focus is a soft, “Whoa…”

Alfred jerks his head around and comes face to face with an awestruck eleven-year-old. Quickly switching his microphone off, Alfred rushes to the young robin, “Master Dick, how did you find this place? More importantly, why are you out of bed?” he questions.

“I didn’t know Dad had such a cool mancave. Why didn’t he show this to us?” Dick asks running around, admiring the T-rex and Bat-vehicles. 

“Master Dick, how did you get down here?” Alfred asks again, trying to wrangle the energetic boy. He manages to capture the boy when he runs over to the Batcomputer. Alfred sits Master Dick down on the chair and swivels it around to face him. 

Dick suddenly looks somber, looking down and twisting the bottom of his pajama shirt with his fingers. “I had a nightmare, but I didn’t want to disturb Daj and Tati because they need their sleep to heal. I looked for you or Dad, but I couldn’t find you. I found this huge broken clock in a sitting room and was playing with the hands to try and get it to the correct time when it opened into a secret passageway! Do you think there are more secret passageways in the manor?” he asks excitedly.

Alfred sighs. It was a complete fluke that Master Dick was able to find the cave. All of their preparation to hide this secret and a bored child wandering the manor at night is what reveals it. 

Figuring out how to explain it away, Alfred is about to make up some excuse and herd Master Dick up the stairs when the comm switches on at the most unfortunate time. Batman’s strained voice rings out into the cave, “Agent A? I’ve gotten hit with some fear gas. I administered the antidote right away, but it seems to be a new modified version. Heading back to the cave and requesting medical intervention.”

“Who is that?” Master Dick asks curiously. 

Alfred sighs again, worried. “Master Dick, can you please go back up to the manor? I promise to explain later, but I need to help someone right now.”

Master Dick gasps, “Do you and Dad help people medically who don’t want to go to the hospital? I read that sometimes they don’t want to go to the hospital because they might be arrested or treated badly. I was wondering what he did at night, but that makes sense! That’s so cool, can I stay??”

Alfred decides to roll with it. “Yes, Master Dick, we do help people. I would prefer you don’t stay to preserve his identity. He trusts us not to reveal it to others.”

Dick nods solemnly, turning to go, feeling trusted with an important secret. Unfortunately, before he can completely leave, his eyes catch on the logo of the computer. Sometimes Alfred wishes Master Bruce didn’t have the need to personalize everything. 

Master Dick’s eyes widen, “Alfred, you’re Batman??” he exclaims.

Alfred covers his mouth so he can’t do more than softly snort in amusement. “At my age, Master Dick? I’m afraid my bones couldn’t handle it. I am simply a fan of Batman,” he replies.

“Me too!” Dick beams. “I like Superman a little better because he can fly, but Batman is cool too because he’s smart enough to fight Superman as a human!”

Alfred smirks, “Is Superman your favorite superhero?” he asks. 

Dick nods enthusiastically. “Yup! He’s my favorite out of the real ones. Black Widow is my favorite fictional one.”

Making a note to tease Master Bruce about it later, Alfred starts to usher Dick to the cave entrance. They are interrupted, however, by Batman’s car zooming into the cave. 

Accepting his fate, Alfred just bows his head in exasperation as Dick’s jaw hits the floor. “IS THAT THE BATMOBILE??” he cries. 

“The Batmobile?” Alfred questions amusedly. 

“Yeah! That’s the Batmobile, Batman’s car. Oh my god, you and Dad help Batman?” Dick is still yelling. He suddenly pouts, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he helps superheroes. We read all those superhero stories together and he hides this from his own son?” Dick sulks dramatically.

“I’m sure you know why he did so, Master Dick,” Alfred responds. 

“Yeah..” Dick sighs, disappointed, “but I can keep secrets!”

“I’m sure you can Master Dick, but it was better for you to have plausible deniability in case anything happened,” Alfred explains. 

At that moment, Batman stumbles out of the ca- ehem Batmobile and rips off his cowl, obviously too far gone on fear gas to comprehend that there is someone who is not supposed to be there. 

Dick’s gasp is louder this time. “OH. MY. GOD. MY DAD IS BATMAN!!!!” he screams.

Master Bruce flinches at the loud sound. 

“Master Dick, please go back upstairs. Master Bruce has been affected by one of Scarecrow’s gases and we don’t know if it’s contagious. We’ll talk about this later when he’s better,” Alfred orders seriously. 

Alfred leads Master Bruce into the Medbay, and hears the pitter-patter of small footsteps climb up the stairs and exit the cave.

Relieved that his grandson is out of danger, Alfred focuses his full attention on his scared son.

….

The next morning, Master Bruce is still sleeping in the Medbay, exhausted from his ordeal. Alfred goes to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and finds all three of the Graysons standing there looking at him expectantly. This is quite an unusual sight because, unless required, the Graysons usually sleep in a lot later than Alfred.

He raises his eyebrow in question as he starts retrieving ingredients for breakfast. “Dick said Bruce wasn’t feeling well. How is he?” Mrs. Mary questions. 

“Doing better, Mrs. Mary. He is still tired but he should be right as rain soon,” Alfred informs them. They all slump in relief though Master Dick still looks extra curious, probably itching to ask about Batman. 

After they finish breakfast, they go about their normal routines. It’s a Saturday, so Mr. John and Alfred are really the only ones that have responsibilities. Mrs. Mary still hasn’t recovered enough to work long hours and Master Dick is home from school. Usually on weekends, Mr. John prepares to head to the gym for his afternoon classes while Mrs. Mary looks after Master Dick. Master Bruce usually has to catch up on Wayne Enterprises work and Alfred has errands to run, but they all spare time on Saturday night to have dinner together. 

As Mr. John is preparing to leave for the gym, Mrs. Mary finds them in the kitchen where Alfred is packing him lunch. “Have you two seen Dick? He managed to slip my notice and I can’t find him,” Mrs. Mary asks. 

The two men abandon their tasks in concern, and the group searches through the manor for a wayward robin. Alfred’s instincts pull at something in his mind that he can’t quite seem to interpret. There must be some place they haven’t checked.

Then last night comes back to him and reminds him that there is one more room that Master Dick could be in. Before he can try to slip away and access the Batcave, Mr. John and Mrs. Mary enter the study with the clock first.

Dear, Heavens. Alfred thinks as the group comes to a stop in front of a grandfather clock, slightly ajar from the wall. “Is this a secret door?” Mr. John ponders. 

He wanders to it before Alfred can stop him and pulls in open. A dark staircase stretches out in front of them, and the Graysons look at each other. “Well..our little robin always did love to explore,” Mrs. Mary says.

Mr. John helps his wife up from her wheelchair to help her down the stairs. Her physical therapy has been coming along nicely, so she’s able to walk, albeit painfully, for a few meters. 

Unable to stop them from continuing onward as his manners dictate him to not make them feel unwelcome in areas of their own home, Alfred decides that it is probably best if all Graysons find out at once. He can only imagine how hard it would be for Master Dick to keep such a big secret from his parents. 

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Alfred inspects their reactions. He had brought down Mrs. Mary’s wheelchair, so Mr. John helps her into it while the couple looks around at what is most obviously Batman’s secret hideout. 

The (Bat?)computer is flashing the bat symbol around the screen as it is wont to do when it is asleep, and the …Batmobile is parked sloppily from the chaos last night. 

The two glance skeptically at Alfred, who clears his throat and announces, “Perhaps we should all discuss this as a family. I’m sure Master Dick is right this way.” He leads them to the Medbay, and sure enough, the young acrobat is sitting on the bed where Master Bruce is awake and leaning up on the pillows. 

They glance up from their deep discussion at the sound of approaching footsteps, and their surprised expressions mirror each other. “Daj! Tati! You found it! Dad isn’t a vampire, but he’s a bat man. I was so close to being right! I should be a detective like him!” Dick exclaims, jumping off the bed and running over to them. 

“Bruce..what is this..?” Mr. John asks, concerned.

Master Bruce sighs. The constant bags under his eyes are more pronounced. “I’m Batman.” he deadpans.

Mrs. Mary giggles a bit hysterically. 

The next few minutes consist of Master Dick regaling them with the events of the night before and his parents seemingly coming to terms with the information that their coparent dresses up like a bat at night and beats up criminals. They are taken in with all the fancy gadgets Batman has in the cave, and when Master Bruce is finally strong enough to stand, he gives the Graysons a tour.

Master Bruce explains the reasoning behind why he is Batman. He relives how his parents hadn’t gotten justice for their murder, and how he wanted to stop other children and people from having to face what he had to. He is the vengeance that darkens Gotham’s rooftops, daring anyone to try and get away with their evil actions. 

Obviously the adult Graysons have a lot of concerns about safety, but when they’re shown the full security system, they are appeased by the sheer fortitude of it. Mr. John seems eager to recruit Master Bruce into teaching some self-defense classes at the gym, and Mrs. Mary goes over to admire the line of advanced vehicles Batman owns. 

As Master Bruce answers the bombardment of questions sent his way from Mr. John and Mrs. Mary, Alfred notices a look of determination on Master Dick’s face that he has only seen once before-when Master Dick had found out that Tony Zucco had caused his parents to fall.

Chapter Text

Just a year ago, if you had asked Mary what she thought her life would be like, never in a million years would she have imagined this. She would have probably said something about becoming the best acrobat in the world, performing in as many places as she could. She would have imagined a life on the move, her family joyful by her side as they moved as one through sunny hills and past snowy beaches. 

Mary has always had an adventurous spirit. Her grandmother used to tut, watching her parents trying to wrangle her younger self from the tops of trees or the middle of lakes. “If our Mary could fly, she would never touch the ground again,” she would sigh fondly. 

Now Mary is grounded, unable to climb or swim, but she has realized something new. There is much to discover and explore from the ground. Her past self, always focused on reaching as high as she could, head up in the clouds, hadn’t seen the beauty of the earth before. 

Now she knows all too well that the ground can bring pain, her fall an awful reminder of that, but she can also see the beauty in the caves running under Wayne Manor. She and Dick explore them weekly, an amused John and Bruce trailing behind them. They have discovered pockets covered in sparking crystals, glimmering under their flashlights. Stalactites grow down from the cave ceiling like natural chandeliers, while stalagmites grow up from the cave floor, a maze for Dick to play on. She can watch the sand on beaches glisten underneath her as she sits and builds sandcastles with her family or watches them play in the ocean. 

Another thing she understands better once she was brought down to earth is people. She is able to see their complexities more clearly. When once she would roll her eyes at all billionaires, denouncing them all as evil and corrupt, living with Bruce Wayne has shown her that there are multiple facets to everyone. Sure there are many evil and corrupt billionaires, but there are also those that want to help, even to the point of their own injury or near death. 

Her traumatic accident has broadened her world, opening her eyes to things she had once dismissed, too focused on chasing the next thrill. She has slowed down, but sometimes that can be a good thing. It's ironic that having to stay in one place has taught her so much, when she had travelled so much with the purpose to learn. 

Not that she doesn’t miss the circus with a burning longing. Her mind is a mess of conflict. She fluctuates between basking in the joy of the new family she has found and mourning what could have been. She could have been flying through the air at this moment instead of looking out the window at the gloomy sky as water droplets run down the glass. 

She has mostly come to terms with her new life. It’s just as fulfilling as her previous one, albeit in different ways. That doesn’t stop her from wishing she could feel the swooping sensation of floating midair once more. 

….

Dick blows out his candles as a loud cheer rises up around him. He beams at everyone, excitedly jumping up and down.

Mary wipes her teary eyes (Her allergies are acting up with March pollen. Yes. It’s totally because of her allergies). Her little robin is now twelve-years-old. Almost a teenager. 

Bruce had gone all out for his birthday. Dick had never had such an elaborate celebration for his birthday, and Mary shudders to think what his thirteenth birthday will be like. Bruce had rented out an entire trampoline park and invited every. single. person Dick knew. That number has grown immensely in the months they’ve been in Gotham, the social butterfly Dick Grayson is. 

It’s a wild day filled with laughter, games, junk food, and chaos. There’s a pile of presents on a table, almost rivaling the size of the T-rex in the Batcave. 

It sort of reminds Mary of the pile of flowers and cards she had discovered in her hospital room when she had woken up from her coma. John had already read the cards, but as Mary had meticulously gone through them, she was reminded about how good people could be. Regardless of the cruelty in the world, people persevere and can give and find kindness in the smallest of gestures.

Bruce’s gestures hadn’t been small, at least not to the Graysons, but he insists that caring for them was the easiest thing he has ever done. Mary shudders to think what could have happened if Bruce hadn’t been in the audience that night. Would she and her husband have survived? Where would her son have ended up? If they had survived, would they have been able to be reunited Dick?

Sometimes the ‘what ifs’ consume her, but she always shakes herself out of it. She focuses on what had happened instead of the hypotheticals. They’ve ended up in the home of an awkward, emotionally stilted, but loving young man. What he doesn’t show on his face, radiates from his being. When Mary first met him, she was intimidated by his serious expression and large build, but getting to know him, you can’t help but to notice how deeply he cares. 

Bruce and Alfred both were happy to open up their home and lives to circus performers with no hesitancy, and Mary is more than happy to return their care and love. She and Alfred tend to the garden and cook together. She and Bruce research cultures and map out future trips together in their free time. She makes sure no one overworks themselves, always the life of the party and supporting everyone in their endeavors. She helps out at the gym, helps Dick with homework, and overall joins Alfred as the backbone of Wayne Manor. The five of them operate as one family unit, lifting up each other's strengths and compensating for weaknesses.

Loud shrieking interrupts her fond recollection of her growing family. She jolts out of her daze and looks around frantically. The shrieks don’t sound scared once she tunes back in. Instead, they are filled with childlike excitement. When she catches sight of bright red and blue, she smiles delightedly. Looks like Dick is going to be the most popular kid in school for a while.

Superman is hovering over the large gathering, the bright LED lights of the trampoline park shining over his broad frame like a halo. Dick is staring in awe at the figure, jaw hanging open. Despite Bruce’ best efforts, Superman is still Dick’s favorite superhero, and Mary is proud of Bruce for letting go of his jealousy enough to invite his competition for his son’s affections to his birthday party. This will make Dick’s year, maybe even his life.

“Hello, earthlings!” Superman beams jokingly, flashing pearly white teeth. “I hear none of you can fly. No matter, as a birthday present for this young boy here, I offer a short flight for everyone. Who’s interested?”

A scream erupts as everyone scrambles to get his attention. Superman chuckles amusedly, puffing out his chest and looking even more larger than life. “Alright! Let’s head outside to the field in the back. Birthday boy gets first turn,” Superman announces, winking at a stock-still Dick. 

Mary has never seen her son that still, even asleep. Bruce nudges Dick to jumpstart his brain, an exasperated expression on his face. Mary sees a flash of jealousy in his eyes as he glares grumpily at Superman, flexing his muscles subtly in an attempt to show Superman up. Mary rolls her eyes at the childish display.

Dick follows the group outside, still in a shocked daze, still not processing what he is seeing. He finally snaps out of it when Superman offers him his back for a piggyback ride. Dick squeals as he launches himself onto Superman’s back as the Kryptonian laughs jovially. 

One by one Superman flies all willing attendees on his back for a couple minutes. They are all returned safely to the ground, looking wind-swept and exhilarated. Mary watches on, smiling at their joy. When Superman finally turns to her in question, she freezes in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to her that she could fly as well.

Dick cheers her on, her other boys looking at her encouragingly. She hesitantly takes his offered hand and lets him pull her onto his back. His steady hands stabilize her and he hovers for a second before taking off into the sky.

Mary Grayson finally gets to fly again. 

….

One thing has been worrying Mary. After they had found out about Bruce’s night job, Dick has been training harder in the gym and asking Bruce to teach him more fighting moves. Mary doesn’t know what is motivating him, but her mama bear instincts are telling her that it’s not good. 

It all comes to a head one night right before patrol. Mary has been looking for her son in order to say goodnight before she goes to bed. She looks everywhere in the manor before checking the Batcave.

As she eases the grandfather clock open, loud voices trail up to her ears. It sounds like Bruce and Dick are arguing, and Mary tunes in, concerned.

“Dick, you aren’t allowed in the cave unless explicitly permitted,” Bruce scolds.

“I want to learn how to fight from Batman, though! How am I supposed to protect my family if I can’t fight?” Dick yells back, sounding stubborn.

“You’re still a child, Dick. It’s not your responsibility to protect your family. We adults need to protect you !” Bruce insists, and Mary can’t help but to nod in agreement even if no one can see her at the moment.

“But what if Zucco comes back and tries to kill Daj and Tati again? I need to be able to save them. I couldn’t the first time when he sabotaged the equipment, but if you train me then maybe I can ,” Dick cries.

Mary sucks in a sharp breath. She barely processes Bruce’s response about how even he is fallible. He wasn’t able to save John and Mary from falling either (though no one could have predicted it, except maybe Haly). 

It wasn’t..an accident? How could no one have told her and John? If there is someone after their lives, they need to do something about it! Then their discussion comes back to her, clearer with context. It is shocking that someone attempted to murder them, yes (though Mary has no idea what could have provoked it), but it is even more shocking to her that her twelve -year-old wants to fight crime like Batman.

Who is this Zucco anyway? A quick Google search shows that he works for a mob boss named Carmine Falcone. A mob wants her and her husband dead? Why? Her son wants to fight a mob ?

Head swirling with questions, fear, and uncertainty, Mary quickly makes her way to her safe person, the one who can always calm her down, her rock. 

She finds her husband sitting at his office desk, reading through financial statements with reading glasses perched on his nose.

“Avdĭn [honey],” she gasps, grabbing his attention.

“Dràgo [darling]? What’s wrong?” he asks, glancing up at her looking concerned. 

Mary gulps, her throat suddenly dry. She doesn’t know how to bring it up so she defaults to her usual blunt confidence. “I overheard Dick and Bruce arguing about our fall,” she starts.

John’s eyebrows raise in concern. Both of them had gone to therapy after they had recovered enough and mostly had come to terms with the traumatic event, though nightmares and flashbacks still plagued them from time to time. That doesn’t mean that they are easily able to discuss that night with anyone, so the fact that Mary is bringing it up, speaks volumes to the seriousness about what she has to say.

“They mentioned..that it wasn't an accident," she breathes out quickly. “Someone from the mob apparently sabotaged our equipment. I did think it was weird how the originals went missing,” she muses.

John’s expression turns stunned as he processes the implications of what she is saying. “We were almost murdered by the mob?” he asks with dread, voice strained.

Mary nods jerkily. “That’s not even the worst part. At least we have Batman to protect us, but Dick wants Bruce to teach him how to fight. That’s what they were arguing about. He may try to go after this Zucco himself,” Mary warns.

“We need to talk to him,” John says, seriously.

Mary can only manage a nod in agreement.

….

The two find Bruce and Dick still down in the Batcave. Dick seems to be sulking near the gym equipment while Bruce broods over a case on the Batcomputer. “Can we talk to you two?” Mary asks, startling them from their very important tasks. 

They both look confused, but move toward John and Mary. “I was coming to say goodnight, and stumbled upon a conversation I don’t think I was supposed to hear..” Mary starts, lightly. 

Bruce pales, probably feeling guilty for having them find out that way. Dick, on the other hand, looks determined. “Daj! You have to let Bruce teach me how to fight! He’s refusing, but I can do it!” he blurts out loudly.

John levels him with a look and he slumps slightly looking a little chastised. He still has fire in his eyes though, glaring daggers at everything in the room. He’s crossed his arms and is obstinately looking away from everyone. 

“Dick, you’re a child,” Mary says patiently, “Bruce is right. It’s up to us to protect you, not the other way around. If you turn 18 and then still want to join, it’s another story, but I want you to be safe.”

John is nodding in agreement. “If you want to learn more self-defense I can teach you, but I don’t want you out on patrols as a child,” Bruce offers, rigid in his refusal to have their son in harm’s way.

“But-”

“No buts, Dick.” Bruce says, unmovingly. Dick snorts with the immaturity of a preteen at the mention of butts. Bruces then turns to John and Mary and looks at them earnestly. “I’m sorry, it slipped my mind to talk to you about this,” he apologizes, “If you have any questions, just let me know, but I have been working on prosecuting Zucco and his men. I just need irrefutable evidence so he can’t walk.”

They nod in acceptance. “Are they still a threat?” John asks. 

Bruce grimaces. “Probably,” he admits, “but you are the most protected you can be here. I will make sure you get justice.” He says this with the stalwart presence of Batman. 

Something in Mary’s chest eases. Sometimes she forgets that Bruce is a hero that people count on. He’s even helped save the world a few times. To her, he’s their family, but at times he reminds her that he is a protector as well. 

Dick’s three parents turn to their son in unison. He’s still facing away from them and pouting. “Do we have your word that you won’t try to fight villains on your own, Dick?” Mary asks sternly. 

“ Fine,” he says exasperatedly. “Why do other heroes get to have kid sidekicks? Flash and Green Arrow have them!” he complains.

“That’s their parents’ prerogative, Dick. Personally, I think it’s irresponsible, but that’s their choice,” John replies. 

Their child finally looks resigned, and to cheer him up, Mary suggests ice cream. Bruce and John give her exasperated looks for rewarding bad behavior, but hey, there’s a reason she’s the cool parent.

….

Mary sighs tiredly, leaning back in the chair. She’s waiting for her test results to get back to see whether her hearing has improved and her hearing aids are working correctly. She also needed blood tests to examine how the medication she is taking for her TBI is affecting her. She’d started to see Bruce’s doctor, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, for outpatient treatment after her discharge, and it has done wonders for her progress. 

The clinic is quiet with only a few patients at the moment, a rare occurrence. The clinic is free to use, funded by Bruce, and many people take advantage of its confidentiality and accessibility. 

The nurse said it would be a few minutes until the doctor would call her back from the waiting room to discuss the results and her current status. 

She’s shifting in the uncomfortable chair, flipping through a magazine she had picked up from a side table when a commotion occurs outside the clinic.

Immediately on alert, you can’t be too careful in Gotham, Mary sits up quickly and rolls her chair forward to curiously peek through the (bulletproof) glass entrance. 

She jerks back as a person bursts through the doors and collapses on the floor in the entrance. Running on adrenaline, she moves toward the collapsed body, gesturing for the receptionist to get medical assistance. 

Upon closer inspection, it looks like a woman, but her frame is so skeletal that Mary wonders if it was the wind that had knocked her over. 

“Hello, M’aam?” she says softly, gently shaking her shoulder. All she gets in response is a low groan of pain. Before she can do anything else, a group of nurses followed by Dr. Thompkins run toward them. 

They quickly surround the fallen woman and Mary gives them space. She’s quickly rushed into the back, and Mary sighs, relinquishing herself to the fate of waiting longer. It hasn’t been the first time, and the woman obviously needs a lot more urgent care.

….

When Mary is finally let into a doctor’s room after an hour, she makes eye contact with the woman from the entrance. She’s laid up in one of Leslie’s beds, looking pale and pallid, but thankfully alert. 

Her thin, straw-colored hair limply frames her face and her eyes look hollowed out, dark bags making the bright blue stand out even more and adding to her corpse-like appearance. 

Mary musters a smile in her direction, and her lips form a shadow of a smile back, the corners barely quirking up. “Hello,” Mary greets softly.

The woman nods her head slightly in acknowledgement. “Are you okay?” Mary asks worriedly.

The woman’s expression turns shameful. She works her mouth for a few seconds, trying to get words out and eventually whispers out, “Yes. I will be.”

Before Mary can say anything else, a nurse hustles in. She doesn’t seem to notice Mary (or ignores her) and walks right up to the woman. “Alright! We can discharge you as soon as you’re good to go. We’ve detoxed you and given you the option to voluntarily attend rehab. I hope we don’t see you here again, honey, that boy of yours needs you,” the nurse tells the woman.

The woman seems to curl into herself. Mary doesn’t think she’s supposed to have heard that. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. She’s sure that’s a HIPAA violation. “Um..” Mary tries to interject in case the nurse actually hadn’t noticed her, but the nurse just smiles at her sickenly sweetly, “Dr. Thompkins will be with you shortly, Mrs. Grayson.” She walks out and Mary’s eyes follow her, an expression of disgust unable to be suppressed.

“I’m sorry. She was so condescending and rude,” Mary says angrily.

The woman smiles, croaking out, “It’s okay. I’m used to being judged. For my addiction and for my poverty.”

 Mary rolls over to her and curls her hand over the woman’s in a show of comfort. The woman looks startled. Mary always forgets that some people aren’t as affectionate with their touch as her family is, and she goes to move her hand in case it makes her uncomfortable. However, the woman is lightning-quick in grabbing her hand and squeezing gratefully. 

The women sit in silence for a little while until Mary pulls out a spare slip of paper from her purse and messily writes her phone number on it. “If you need anything, please call me. I heard you have a little boy? I have a son too,” Mary says, cupping the woman’s hand around the slip.

The woman finally smiles a full, real smile and it utterly transforms her worn face into one much younger and vibrant. “Yes, my lovely son. He’s nine and everything to me..” she says wistfully. 

Mary grins back. “We should have them meet sometime! My robin is twelve and gets along with everyone. I’m sure he’ll think your son is great!”

The two mothers beam at each other, understanding the love they have for their children. 

“If you or your son need any support, you have me,” Mary continues, “Not only our sons should be friends. We can be friends too!”

The woman looks grateful. Honestly, Mary is grateful as well. She hasn’t made many friends so far, as she’s been limited in her travel, so it’s nice to finally make a connection. 

Before she can say anything else, Leslie walks in the room. “Hello, Mary. I have your results back. Everything looks good so far. You should continue your medications and physical therapy, but if you continue with this progress then we can start weaning you off of it in a few months! We’ll continue monitoring you and I’ll see you next month,” Leslie informs Mary optimistically.

“Thank you!” Mary replies, relieved. Leslie’s gaze then shifts over to the woman on the bed and she seems to startle. “I didn’t know you were still here, M’aam. Regina told me she had discharged you,” she says, confused.

“About that,” Mary interjects, “That nurse was giving out medical information when she knew I was in the room and subtly shamed her for her addiction.” She feels the righteous anger bubble back up in her stomach.

The woman tries to shake her head and tells her to leave it alone, but Leslie’s eyes are already furrowing. “That’s… not professional at all. I’ll have a talk with her,” she says with her usual no-nonsense tone. “In the meantime, do you have someone at home that can take care of you? If not, we have some great rehab centers that will take care of your health,” Leslie offers.

“Ah.. that’s okay. I have a son to take care of,” the woman says, but her eyes sadden even more, “though I’m not doing a very good job of it right now.”

“Hey, you’re doing your best. Addiction is an illness that can get in the way of your life and the lives of people around you. We have resources that can help you remain sober and be there for your son,” Leslie reassures her. The woman still looks hesitant to accept any help so Mary butts in again.

“You can stay with my family,” she declares boldly, “We have plenty of room and my coparent has a habit of taking in people down on their luck. For example, me,” she says, gesturing to her hearing aids and wheelchair, “and my family.”

Both the woman and Leslie look taken aback, but Leslie looks more amused. “Looks like it rubbed off on you,” she jokes. 

The woman tries to protest, but Mary is firm in her invitation. Eventually, she relents after Mary promises to take good care of her son and Leslie recommends a good rehab center that Mary’s coparent ‘will be more than happy to pay for.’ (Mary’s words - she’s not taking a ‘no’ for an answer from Bruce).

Usually Mary is hesitant about taking money from Bruce after all he has done for them, but situations like this make her grateful that she can use the money to help people. Bruce already gives her more money than what she can do with for her own expenses, so might as well pay it forward.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Mary asks, feeling silly for inviting someone’s son to stay with her family and funding her rehab without knowing her name. 

The woman smiles. “Catherine Todd.”

Chapter Text

His mom’s gone fucking crazy. Jason had thought it was the crack talking at first. She had promised to get help the last time she had OD’ed, but it wasn’t the first time drugs had made her break her promises. She had missed his last play at school because she was too busy getting high enough to forget. Not like his shitty school was able to put on a good production, but Jason had been scouring the audience hoping she was just hidden in the shadows. It was harder than playing ‘Where’s Waldo’, but that’s probably cuz Waldo wasn’t fucking there. 

When Jason had checked her pupils, however, they seemed stone cold sober, though shaky from the beginnings of withdrawal. Great. If drugs aren’t going to take her out, it’ll probably be getting thrown into Arkham. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jason demands. 

“We’re moving, sweetie,” Mom replies tiredly, stuffing some of their meager belongings into a plastic trash bag. 

“Where?!” Jason questions incredulously. 

“A friend I met at the clinic invited us to live with her and her family,” Mom answers. 

“And you know she’s not a serial killer, how??” Jason interrogates.

Mom sighs. “I know because she’s nice and doesn’t seem like the type. You don’t think I asked around about her before agreeing? Trust me, when you meet her, you’ll know. They’re very obviously not from Gotham. They’re staying here because she and her husband got injured,” she explains.

Jason grumbles, crossing his arms. “We don’t have to pay rent or anything right? I don’t think we can afford it,” he asks.

“No, she said we can stay for free for however long we need to,” Mom says, smiling softly. “I think it will be good for us. You get to go to a better school and I’ll have a friend to help me out. It’s been so long since I had a friend,” Mom ponders wistfully. 

This is the happiest Jason’s ever seen her. She had been a shell of herself since Willis had up and gotten himself arrested. Maybe it will be good for her. Jason doesn’t mind moving away from this crappy shithole with its horrible memories at all, especially if it helps him get his mom back.

….

Jason regrets everything. His mom had failed to mention that her friend was fucking rich enough to live in a giant ass mansion . It’s practically a castle . What was her friend doing in Dr. Thompkin’s clinic? That’s usually where only poor people go cuz the doc’s nice enough to treat people for free. Maybe she’s just takin’ advantage of the free shit. It’ll be just like a rich person to steal resources from the poor. 

Mom had taken them on the bus to Bristol, and the two had to walk two strenuous miles uphill to reach the large estate in front of them. Neither of them had a phone so they had stopped by the library first to map out their trip. Mom had also called her friend to let her know they were on their way. Jason wished he could have checked out books but there’s no feeling when he’d be able to return them, so he mournfully left them all behind. 

When Jason had asked why her friend couldn’t have fucking picked them up, especially if they were this rich, Mom had said she didn’t want to ask too much of them since they’re helping so much. Throughout the long ass journey, Jason had gotten lecture upon lecture about behaving himself and being respectful. Sulking the whole way, he knows that he’ll try his best so he doesn’t ruin this for Mom, but sometimes he just gets angry and he can’t control his outbursts. Maybe he’s too much like his dad.

A part of Jason is worried that this is Mom’s way of getting rid of him. She’s going to be leaving him at the house in a few days to go to rehab, and Jason’s happy that she’s going, he really is, but he can’t help but to wonder if she’ll get sober and realize she’s much happier without him.

He hopes that this friend and her family aren’t as bad as Willis. No matter how much asking around Mom could have done, there’s no telling how her friend is behind closed doors. Mom is going to stay with them for a few days to help him settle in, but then he’s on his own. Jason resolves to have a go bag ready in case he needs to run. No snotty rich asshole is going to try and hold him hostage. Thankfully, he has her rehab details in his backpack and can always ask Dr. Thompkins for help. He trusts her after she treated a broken arm his dad gave him and didn’t call CPS, though it looked like she really wanted to.

Mom hustles them to the gate, ringing the buzzer. It’s a sweltering summer day and the walk has made the two of them sweaty, especially because Jason is still in his ratty red hoodie. He’s been through worse, but Jason is hoping they allow him to have cold water inside. He’s sure someone that rich has AC at least. 

A posh fucking voice with a British accent answers, “Hello, may I presume you are the friends Madam informed me would be coming?”

Madam? Jason mouths, feeling like he’s about to meet the queen or something. 

“Yes..” Mom says hesitantly, probably also thrown off by the formal greeting.

There’s a loud buzz and the gates to the mansion creak open. Jason gulps at the intimidating size of it looming over him. It’s bigger than their entire block was. He’ll probably get lost and starve somewhere in the dark confines of this Victorian fortress. 

A part of Jason is excited though. He’d read about these large Victorian manors and castles in books, but he could only have imagined it. Now he can see it with his own eyes. It’ll be an adventure to live here, and it’s in way better shape than their shithole apartment was. Honestly Jason’s surprised it hadn’t been condemned. 

They walk up to the ornate porch and the two grand double doors open to reveal a distinguished gentleman with a mustache and tuxedo completing his butler aesthetic. 

“Ah, please come in. My name is Alfred Pennyworth and I am the butler here at Wayne Manor. You two may call me Alfred.”

What?

“Wayne Manor?!” Jason blurts out, “like Bruce Wayne?”

He turns to his mom in disbelief, wondering how she managed to get them to live with Brucie fucking Wayne. All Jason knows about him is that he’s filthy rich and fucking dumb. Ugh, he’s starting to think he won’t be able to enjoy his time basking in his sudden fortune because he’ll have to fend off a creepy billionaire. 

No one would be able to touch Bruce Wayne with all his wealth so if he turns out to be a pedo, Jason’s only option is to run. How could Mom be okay with leaving him here? Maybe he paid her or something. A sudden cold dread fills his stomach. What if she was lying about going to rehab and had sold him off for more drugs. He’d seen people do way worse things to get their next fix.

But Mom gives him a reassuring smile, ushering him into the foyer. Jason hopes this means that she isn’t. She wouldn’t be able to stay this calm if she was giving up her son…right? No matter how drugged out she was, Jason hadn’t doubted she loved him, even if she loved coke more. 

Jason glances back up to the butler. Though his stance is stiff and strict, his eyes are kind. “What is your name, young master?” he asks.

“Jason” he responds, glaring angrily to compensate for his fear. 

“Master Jason and Ms..?”

“Todd,” his mom replies, “Catherine Todd.”

Any further discussion is interrupted by a loud squeal. “Catherine!” an excited voice exclaims. A thin woman hobbles in, leaning on a cane. Though she seems frail at first glance, her eyes radiate strength and resilience. Her face is open in a wide beam, lighting up the room. Jason squints at the brightness, realizing how his mom had trusted her so easily. Her expression is friendly and approachable, her kindness flowing off of her in waves. 

Mom smiles back, looking happier than Jason is used to seeing. He shrinks into himself, feeling self-conscious about the difference in reaction to him versus this lady she’s only met once.

The two women hug, and then the stranger, who Jason thinks is ‘Madam’ turns her beaming smile onto him.

“You must be Jason. My name’s Mary,” she says warmly. He nods awkwardly. “My son is twelve, but I’m sure you two will get along great!”

Great, there’s a kid here too? What if he hates the street rat invading his home and starts bullying him? Jason is small for his age due to malnourishment and the boy is three whole years older. 

Speaking of the devil, loud footsteps pound down the stairs as a lean, but muscular preteen runs toward them. Alfred looks at him disapprovingly, but he’s too focused on the newcomers to stop. 

“Hi! I’m Dick!” the boy exclaims loudly, a clear reflection of who Jason thinks is his mom. 

“Dick?” Jason questions judgmentally.

Mary laughs. “His full name is Richard, but we’ve always called him our Dickie. Unfortunately it opens him up to a lot of jokes but he takes it gracefully, don’t you robin?” she giggles out.

“Of course, Daj! I’m an acrobat, you know. I’m graceful in everything,” Dick jokes, puffing out his chest proudly. 

Jason snorts, the two boys exchanging small smiles. “Ah it looks like everyone is talking in the foyer. Is Alfred okay with this?” a gentle voice joins them, floating from the top of the stairs.

“No I am certainly not, sir,” Alfred says primly, “Everyone to the blue sitting room, please.”

Jason is introduced to Dick’s dad, John (jeez how did two normally named people pump out a Dick?), before Alfred leads them to an ornately decorated sitting room with tea and snacks like a classic British tea party. Jason is starting to feel like he got transported into a regency novel. “So lavish right?” Dick asks nudging Jason knowingly, “When I first got here, I was so scared of breaking anything cuz it probably cost more than everything I had ever owned.”

“How did you end up here anyway?” Jason asks curiously.

Dick’s smile falters momentarily before it’s back in full force. Holy shit, what teeth whitening do these people use?

“Ah. My parents were injured during our trapeze performance, we were in a circus, and Bruce was nice enough to take me in while they recovered,” Dick responds, “Now we’re all a family!”

“Bruce isn’t..creepy or anything right? I’ve heard he’s sleazy,” Jason asks hesitantly (focusing on the important part and completely brushing over the fact that they were in a circus cuz what?). He’s not stupid enough to not notice the similarities in appearance he and Dick have. 

“NO!” Dick exclaims, looking shocked as if the thought had never occurred to him. “That’s his public persona, he’s not actually like that! You’ll see,” he says decisively, “Dad’s one of the nicest people I've met and I've met a lot of nice people.”

“You call him Dad?” Jason asks incredulously.

“Yup! Tati said people can have two dads or moms, so Bruce is like another dad to me. He and Alfred took care of me when I had no one even if he didn’t know me before that night.” Dick announces proudly.

Jason mulls over that thoughtfully. Honestly, everything he’s hearing sounds like Bruce Wayne is taking people in out of the goodness of his heart, but from Jason’s experience people don’t do things like that. He must have an ulterior motive. Maybe he just wants to pay them to be his picture-perfect family of something. Honestly Jason thinks that’s a fair trade.

As if Jason had thought too hard about him, Bruce Wayne finally enters the room. The other adults had been engaging in a conversation Jason hadn’t cared about, and it looked like his mom was getting along with both of Dick’s parents. At the large man’s entrance, all chatter comes to a lull as he’s greeted by his family. 

Bruce Wayne looks terrifying. He’s bulky and tall, so different from the stereotypical pasty, weak rich man Jason had been imagining.

Though the rest of the family seems nice, Jason doesn’t think they could defend him from Bruce’s brute force if he decided to hurt Jason. When he turns his intense eyes on Jason, the skinny boy freezes, but all he does is smile at him gently. 

It’s a little weird to see such a kind expression on an otherwise severe face and solid build. It’s a bit like those bikers at the club a couple blocks from Jason’s apartment that looked scary, but were a safe place for kids in trouble to run to. They looked and acted like attacking bears when they needed to, but could be teddy bears to those who needed help.

Jason relaxes minutely, but still keeps his guard up. Rich people are good at hiding their true intentions, it’s how most of them even get rich - by manipulating and taking advantage of others.

“Hello,” Bruce rumbles softly, obviously trying to put Jason and his mom at ease. “You must be Catherine and Jason? We’ve all heard a lot about you. I’m Bruce.”

“I figured,” Jason snorts. His mom gives him a warning look but he ignores her, testing him with a jut of his chin in rebellion, daring him to show his true colors. 

The man just chuckles and walks over to gently shake Jason’s small, dirty hand, not even flinching at the filth like Jason had expected.

“The both of you are more than welcome to stay with us. We have plenty of space, and I could use the sane company,” Bruce jokes, winking at Jason. Dick gasps in dramatic offense, feining clutching his pearls. 

Jason can’t help the tiny smile of amusement while Mom lets out a giggle. Bruce continues, “Both Mary and Leslie have given you glowing reviews. Leslie’s our family doctor so if you need anything medical-wise, she can help you.”

“Dad’s also a medical professional,” Dick brags, “He saved Daj and Tati’s life!”

Bruce gives him a look, seemingly shy about it. He rubs the back of his head, “I just went to medical school. I’m not a doctor, so you should probably go to Leslie.”

This conversation is happening in the background as Jason grapples with the fact that running to Dr. Thompkins may not be an option anymore if she’s in Bruce Wayne’s pocket. Then again, that might be an attestment to his character because Dr. Thompkins doesn’t seem the corrupt type. She literally treats people for free, probably with Wayne money if Jason thinks about it. 

Bruce turns back to Jason. “Is there anything you enjoy doing?” he asks curiously. Jason bites his lip, not knowing what the right answer is.

“He loves reading,” Mom speaks up for him.

Bruce’s face lights up. “Ah! Then I’ll have to show you the library. We can always get any books you’d like to request of course.” He gestures for everyone to follow him and they make their way to large ornate doors that open to a library straight out of Beauty and the Beast. Jason is stunned into speechlessness, looking up at everything in awe. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mom wipe a tear out of her eye but is too taken in by the sea of books to ask her about it.

At this moment, Jason is completely sold on Wayne Manor. If he can hide out in this library for the entire time, then why not?

Jason turns to Bruce and asks, “Are you related to Dracula or somethin’?”

Dick bursts out laughing, his parents join in. Dick throws his arm around a confused Jason, still keeled over. “I think we’ll get along really well, Little Wing.”

Bruce just looks exasperated muttering about not looking that pale. 

As the group makes their way back to the sitting room, Jason nudges Dick and whispers, “Why is the old man so generous?”

“That’s just the way he is,” Dick replies, “It’s partly his character and partly because he’s so rich he doesn’t even blink at these things. Honestly, I wish more rich people were like him. There’s more than enough resources for everyone so why hoard? Part of the reason Wayne Enterprises is so successful is because by helping others it boosts its own productivity and reputation.”

Jason ponders over that for the rest of the evening. After dinner (which was some of the best food he’s ever eaten), he and Mom are set up in adjacent rooms each with their own bathroom (!). 

Jason takes a warm (!) shower and stuffs his go bag into the closet, hiding it from view. They had been promised their privacy, but Jason doesn’t trust it yet. Then he flops back on the bed in his new pajamas, looking up at the high ceiling.

Staying here doesn’t sound too bad. 

….

Jason blows out the candle to the cheers of the people around him. He smiles shyly at the attention, leaning further into Mom’s side. The weather is sunny for once, the August day ringing in the end of summer. A feast is spread over the picnic table in the middle of a beautiful garden.

Jason’s never had a better birthday celebration. Usually, the most they could afford was a small slice of cake from the convenience store around the block and a lit match snuck from his father’s cigarette stash.

This time, however, he has had two celebrations, one with family and one with friends. The past weekend, he had a giant birthday party in Gotham Public Library with all his school friends. It was literally his dream come true. Bruce had asked him to plan his dream party and made it happen.

They had a blast running around the reserved space, reading books and playing games related to them. Jason’s cake had been Pride and Prejudice themed and he will treasure the memory of the party for his entire life.

Jason loves school. Fuck it if it makes him sound like a nerd, but he has so much fun. Dick always rolls his eyes, the jock that he is, but Jason’s in theater and book club and has a blast. He’s made so many new friends through those clubs and English is his favorite class. Starting was rough because of the snotty little rich kids, but he was able to find his people. 

Speaking of his people, Jason glances around at his family gathered around him. This party is being held at Mom’s rehab center garden. Not the best location, but it at least allows Mom to attend! Plus her rehab center is the fanciest fucking institution Jason has seen. It’s almost like a resort and miles better than Arkham.

Honestly, staying at Wayne Manor has been the best thing to happen to Jason in general. He is so used to drawing short straws that his luck doesn’t seem to sink in at times. He’s always bracing for all this to come crashing down.

Dick has become like an older brother to him and the other adults have been there for him as his mom goes to rehab. He’s been able to visit her often and has seen so much change in her as well. 

Her happiness can now be seen in her eyes as she watches him cut the (very normal and boring) cake. Jason smiles widely at her while John ruffles his curly hair. Dick attacks him with a glob of frosting, smearing it across his cheek while Mary barks out a loud laugh. Alfred sniffs in disapproval, but can’t hide his tiny smile. Bruce just rolls his eyes and sighs when Dick subjects him to the same thing. 

If Jason from four months ago could see him now, he would barely recognize his life.

….

Jason has been noticing weird things going on in Wayne Manor. He’s since dismissed them as the quirks of the uber-rich, but recently it’s gotten out of hand.

The other residents seem to speak in code at times, giving each other ‘looks’ across the dining table. They also seem vaguely nocturnal. Jason’s been woken up by slamming doors or footsteps so many times, he’s starting to reuse insults, which is practically unheard of. Never doubt Jason’s ability to come up with creative curses. 

Jason had tried to do reconnaissance, staying up at night and sneaking though the manor to try and catch what they are up to, but he’s either caught by Alfred and sent right back to bed or they disappear before he can see them.

He’s tried to have Dick stay over in his room for a sleepover, and his affectionate brother is more than happy to, but Jason can still hear people moving about so it’s obviously not Dick, though the little shit probably knows and isn’t telling him what’s up. What happened to brotherly loyalty huh?

Jason is so close to going fucking crazy like the Joker and confronting them because he’s pretty sure they’re trying to gaslight him into not being suspicious (which is even more suspicious).

Thankfully, Jason is saved from Arkham when he’s approached by Bruce one night. The billionaire is flanked by Dick as the other adults make themselves scarce. 

“Jaylad, can we talk to you for a moment?” Bruce asks, rubbing his neck nervously.

Jason squints his eyes at them suspiciously. At Bruce’s responding flinch, Jason just knows that it’s gonna be somethin’ serious. Bruce only ever shows that he’s flustered if he’s either particularly exhausted or emotional enough to not be able to hide it.

Jason knows for a fact that the man had the day off because they had all gone to the park for a picnic that afternoon, so he shouldn’t be that tired. Jason knows he practically runs on caffeine, but he hasn’t guzzled coffee outside of breakfast today, which is a huge indicator that he’s actually mostly functioning at present.

“Ok…” Jason responds.

Dick is smiling widely, which puts Jason on edge. The last time he looked like that, he had forced them to all watch the Cats and Emoji movies so Jason is not looking forward to whatever this is.

Dick grabs his hand and pulls him out of his desk chair, leading him out of his room. “Where are we going?” Jason asks dubiously.

He lets his brother tug him through the maze-like hallways of Wayne Manor, glancing backward questioningly at Bruce, who’s strolling sedately behind their quick pace.

He’s pulled to a stop when they reach a random study in the far reaches of the manor Jason had rarely gone to (except when trying to stalk the late-night footsteps). 

He’s starting to think he’s being pranked when Dick walks up to the antique grandfather clock decorating the back of the room. The idiot starts turning the broken hands and Jason’s about to dial the psych hospital (or Alfred) when there’s a click and the clock creaks open.

Jason’s jaw drops. “What the fuck? There’s a fucking secret room and no one told me??” he yells.

 “Language,” Bruce scolds, seemingly deflecting.

“No, you guys need to explain what’s going on right now or I swear I’m gonna kill everyone in the room and then myself,” Jason insists.

Bruce still looks at him in reprimand, but Jason has reached his limit. Bruce sighs in defeat and starts, “Just to preface this, your mom has already given us permission to tell you-”

“What the hell?! My mom knows before me?” Jason protests.

“Well, you are a minor, Jaylad, and some things are important to discuss with a parent or guardian beforehand,” Bruce explains.

Jason huffs in annoyance. “I’m ten now. I can handle it.”

Before Bruce can reply, Dick cheerfully interrupts, “Aright time to go down! You should thank me, Little Wing. Bruce was determined to let you find out on your own but I convinced him to tell you. My parents and I finding out didn’t go the best.” He laughs at the memory.  

Jason glares at Bruce at that, furious about being left out. Bruce raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t know if it would be safe to tell you,” he tries to soothe.

Jason grunts and bodies his way to the top of the stairs, leading the group down them. He stops abruptly when he gets to the bottom, causing Dick to crash into him. 

Jason gapes at the high ceilings of a fucking cave . He looks around at all the objects littering it and whispers, “ Please tell me you’re not just a Batman fanatic.”

“Nope!” Dick chirps, “He’s the real deal!!”

Jason’s wide eyes meet Bruce’s sheepish ones, looking upon him in a new light. They run over his scarred hands and burly body. What had once terrified him, now makes him feel safe and protected. At that moment, Jason is finally convinced completely that Bruce doesn’t have an ulterior motive and is just a good person.

“Awesome..” he gasps. Bruce blushes. Batman blushes. 

After at least ten minutes of an awkward silence as Jason stares, the youngest turns to Dick. “Do you help him ?” he asks excitedly.

He deflates when Dick pouts and shakes his head. “They didn’t let me. I don’t know if we told you, but my parents were almost murdered, like their fall wasn’t an accident, and I wanted to go find the guy and fight him, but they didn’t let me. I was so mad, but Bruce promised to bring him to justice so I guess it’s okay,” he mumbles.

Jason’s left reeling from all the revelations, but he’s quickly distracted by exploring the ‘Batcave’. 

He can’t wait to talk to Mom about this when she’s home in a month. 

….

“Mom!” Jason yells, running up to the smiling woman. She’s dressed in a beautiful, flowery dress. The weather hasn’t completely gotten colder and today is one of the last sunny days of summer before the colors of autumn will ring in the holiday season. 

Her bags are piled by her feet as everyone goes to greet the recently discharged woman. Mom almost looks like a different person now, reminding Jason of the few memories he has of her when he was younger, before drugs took over her life. He remembers flashes of her smiling face that mirror her beaming face now, the wrinkles of time the only difference. Nostalgia chokes him up for a second as he crashes into her still skinny, but healthier arms. 

“Hello, sweetie,” she hums, squeezing him tight with her newfound strength.

The rest of his family catches up to them, smiling at his enthusiasm. There’s a giant group hug as they all pile on and Jason can’t remember a time when he’s been happier. It feels like fate that his mom stumbled into Leslie’s clinic when Mary was there and won her over. Over the months he’s been at Wayne Manor, the residents have slowly but surely made their way into his heart. 

He does his homework with John, who methodically and patiently explains the concepts to him, he reads in the library with Bruce who enjoys dicussing literature with him, he trains in the gym with Dick who manages to make the most grueling tasks fun, he cooks with Alfred who teaches him delicious cuisines from all over the world, and he gallavants the forest surrounding Wayne Manor with Mary who litters flowers she picked in his hair and teaches him how to properly climb trees. 

His life has become almost idyllic, a sharp contrast to what it was like before in Crime Alley. Sometimes he still wonders if it will all come crashing down. 

He’s excited for his mom to be free and sober, but he worries she’s changed or come to her senses. What if she realizes she no longer needs him around and wants to leave to live her life? She always seemed sad around him before she went to rehab, but around Mary and after she got some time away from him, she seems much happier. 

Sure, she seemed happy to see him when he visited, but Mary always came with him, so maybe that excitement was for Mary and he was just a tag-along. He’s less scared now that he knows he has a home, but his mom is still his number 1 and if he loses her, he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to cope. What if she wants to go travel or move away for something?

The fear of losing Mom grips him suddenly and causes Jason’s smile to slip away. Mom looks at him concerned, but Jason just shrugs and looks away, trying to wave it off. 

She’s quickly distracted by the others, but Jason can see her shooting him questioning glances. He hopes she doesn’t ask…

She asks.

After she’s been settled into Wayne Manor, she approaches him in his bedroom. He’s leaning over his math homework trying to distract himself from his negative thoughts. 

“Jason, honey, can I talk to you? What’s going on? You look down.” Mom asks. 

“Nothing,” Jason grumbles, still focusing on the worksheet, though he’s not processing the words on it.

She walks up behind him and caresses his cheek, leaning her chin on his head. Jason instinctively leans into her touch before reminding himself to not get more attached if she decides to leave. 

At his movement to pull away, Mom frowns and forcibly turns his desk chair so he’s forced to face her. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she demands more sternly.

Jason crosses his arms refusing to make eye contact with her and looking at his feet. “Why did you look so happy to see Mary when you were always sad around me before? Just tell me if I’m a burden to you. I don’t want you to pretend you like me!” Jason blurt out, revealing his insecurities. He jerks out of her hold and folds his head onto his desk, covering it with his arms, embarrassed about his vulnerability.

“Jason!” Mom gasps surprised, “You should never doubt that I love you!”

Jason snorts in disbelief. He feels Mom grab his arm and she jerks him around again, forcing up his chin so he has to look her in her eyes. 

“Jason you are the most important person in my life-no look at me. You are my purpose in life. I have no meaning without you. Before I became sober, I was sad because I was letting you down. You deserve everything, and I couldn’t provide it for you. I was so ashamed of myself as a mother, but thanks to Mary and everyone else, I can finally try to be the mother you deserve,” Mom affirms confidently and without any hesitation. She looks at him like she’s daring him to disagree.

Jason’s face crumples as he releases the years of doubt, insecurity, and fear into wrenching sobs. Mom pulls him into a warm hug, not letting him go until he’s all cried out. Jason wipes his nose, embarrassed about his outburst. He’s so used to having to act tough that this safe environment is allowing him to be vulnerable and release his tension. Ugh pesky emotions. 

When Mom leaves him alone after she’s sure he’s okay (he has to force her out of his room), Jason muses over what had happened. He’d always held people at arms length because he felt that they secretly hated him and were just pretending to be nice to him. He also worried that they would leave or betray him eventually and wanted to make the separation easier for his heart. It’s a survival instinct of his to be suspicious of everyone because Crime Alley is rife with human traffickers and criminals with bad intentions. 

After talking with Mom, Jason realizes that a lot of people can be genuine and that he’s sabotaging himself by not letting people who care about him get close. His brain knows he is safe, but his heart is taking a while to catch up. 

Jason resolves to fully accept everyone as the family that they have become to him, and he smirks at the thought that he knows just how to do it. 

….

Jason had never known what it was like to have a good father growing up. Willis had been so abusive that Jason wished for the times when he would up and leave them for weeks on end with no notice.

 Jason would see kids who leaned into their father’s touch and would beam at him with awe. They would ride on their dad’s shoulders, their own personal hero. He always hoped Willis would sober up and get a conscience at the very least, but most of all, Jason wished his father would have loved him and his mother. 

Now, Jason’s glad he’ll never see Willis again. He’s seen Bruce and John father Dick, providing him support and strength, while making sure he’s safe and happy. His chest had burned with jealousy, but now Jason’s realized that they treat him the same way. 

He’s been in denial, but it’s been a long time coming for him to acknowledge the fact that the others are just as much his parents as Mom. 

He finds Bruce in the Batcave, and yeah sure he’s not really allowed down there but screw that. The man, like most times, is hunched over the Batcomputer, looking like death with a coffee cup next to him. Jason wonders how he doesn’t have a permanently curved spine from that horrid posture. 

“Hey, Dad, can you teach me how to use nunchucks?” Jason asks casually. 

Dad hums for a second (‘Hn’), obviously still drawn into the case and not processing what he heard. “Dad! Fucking listen to me!” Jason yells.

“Language.” Dad says distantly. Jason groans. Maybe he’ll have to do this when Dad is more coherent. He takes off his shoe and chucks it at Dad’s head in a last ditch attempt to get his attention. 

Dad catches it with his stupid reflexes, but finally turns around and gives Jason a look. Then he gives a double take.

“Wait, Jaylad? I thought you were Dick,” Dad says confused. 

Jason snorts, asking, “What? You can’t tell the difference between your sons?”

Dad just gapes at him. Jason smirks, feeling smug about catching the old man off guard. “Anyone home, Dad?” Jason drawls. 

Dad sucks in a breath. There is a long moment of stillness as Jason waits for Dad’s brain to reboot. When it does, the stoic man doesn’t say anything, instead enveloping Jason into a tight hug. Thank god Alfred’s cooking and Dick’s training has made Jason stronger or all his bones would have broken.

“No nunchucks, son,” Dad mumbles into Jason’s curly hair.

“Oh come on, you were listening?!” 

….

With Bruce sworn to secrecy about Jason’s plans, Jason heads to where he knows the Graysons are. With some begging to Alfred, Jason is dropped off at the Flying Grayson Gym.

The three are in the middle of teaching a class of eager children, who look at Dick’s demonstration in awe, listening intently to John and Mary’s explanation. Jason leans against John’s office door, watching them finish up.

When the three notice him, they smile enthusiastically at him at the pleasant surprise. Jason approaches them, calling out, “Yo Daj, Tati just checking out the digs. They’re cool.”

Dick bursts into shocked, but pleased giggles while Daj and Tati smile at him in joy. “They are aren’t they?” Daj agrees, kissing Jason's cheeks aggressively. Jason fights to get free, but then finds himself lifted off the ground in Tati’s wiry, but strong, arms as the man swings him from side to side in excitement. 

“Chavo [baby], we love you,” Tati croons, and Jason’s eyes sting. Dick is leaps on him into a hug as well once their tati sets him down. 

The family piles into a car once the gym closes, and Alfred drives them back to the Manor. During dinner when Alfred places a plate of food in front of him, the newly emboldened boy says, “Thanks, Gramps.”

The rest of the room bursts out laughing, but Jason has never seen Alfred look that offended before. “Master Jason,” he scolds, “that is highly impolite. It will be Alfred or Mr. Pennyworth to you when I am working.”

There’s a pause where he relaxes slightly and gives a barely there smile. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the occasional ‘Grandfather’ when I’m off duty however,” he continues, winking. 

“What? I wanna too!” Dick chimes in. 

“Both of you may,” Alfred concedes though he warns, “If it goes too far, I will revoke this privilege.”

“May I call you, Father?” Dad jokes, with Mom, Daj and Tati joining in on the teasing. 

“Alright, alright that is quite enough. I will be very clear when I will allow such addressing,” Alfred announces.

Jason smiles at his happy, laughing family, thankful for what they have created.

Chapter Text

The cafeteria is crowded, but Tim sits alone in the sea of elementary schoolers. He stares down at his tray, food barely touched, as he calculates whether he can afford to try and convince his parents to let him join a club.

Tim’s kept up all his schoolwork and has even skipped a grade! His parents had rewarded him with a bonus for his allowance that he had used for a skateboard. If he asks to join a time-waster club like the photography one, his parents may cut his allowance in half as payment. Tim might not be able to afford the camera he’s saving up for if they do that. He guesses he can skip a meal or two, it’s not the first time he’s had to if Mrs. Mac had a day off and couldn’t bring groceries.

A burst of loud laughter has Tim glancing up at the long tables occupied by the theater club. Dramatic by nature, most participants of the club tend to be loud and expressive, drawing everyone’s attention (unless they are stage techs). 

Out of all those attention-grabbing students, one stands out even more. His neighbor, Jason Todd. Tim watches as the boy, only two years older than himself, gestures animatedly in front of his friends, telling what seems to be a funny story that everyone is laughing at. 

Tim watches him, like he is wont to do when he’s bored or lonely. Jason always gives off this light like everything is going to be okay if he’s around. 

Just next door, Wayne Manor has always been an object of interest to Tim. He’d wondered at Bruce Wayne ever since his parents had brought him to galas at four. The man had exuded a grief that called to Tim’s own loneliness, stuck at home with just his nanny, hoping for a call or even a text from his parents. That manor had looked just as cold and empty as his own, and Tim had felt a kinship to Mr. Wayne as a result.

 Just recently, since last year, has that dark cloud lifted to reveal a complicated, but happy man. The manor has pushed out most of its shadows, childlike joy and familial love, taking their place. It looks almost like a complete transformation, Tim barely even recognizing it, and that causes an ache somewhere in his heart. 

He’d always looked to Bruce Wayne and his manor for comfort, to see that he is not alone in the life he is living. That understanding had soothed the loneliness a little. But now, they have moved on to brighter meadows, leaving Tim in the same old dark corner, trying not to be obtrusive. 

Don’t get him wrong, Tim is happy for him, but he wishes he could have been guided out as well. Tim dreams about Bruce taking him in like he did Dick and Jason. The two had been lifted out from their tragedies and given a space to flourish. 

Not that Tim has had any tragedies happen to him. He feels guilty even thinking about what it would be like to join dinners at Wayne Manor when he has everything he could ever ask for (except for his parents’ presence). He’s been given more than enough money and has a giant house. He isn’t struggling through poverty like Jason and his parents haven’t been injured badly like Dick’s. Sometimes he misses his parents and longs for the warm hugs Jason and Dick receive, but he’s mature enough to take care of himself. He doesn’t need someone to take care of him no matter how much he wants them to.

Tim has made it his life mission to meet his parents’ expectations of him in the hopes that they will acknowledge him one day. Maybe they’re leaving him alone for his own good so he can learn how to be a proper heir to Drake Industries. He can’t do it if he’s spending time on frivolous activities and travelling with his parents. He needs to know how to manage things. 

Jason’s loud voice pulls Tim out of his brooding (god his mother would be so disappointed if she saw him doing that), and the boy’s puffed up, proud chest is another reminder as to why Tim is still utterly jealous, despite his better judgement and wishes.

Jason and his brother get to live with Batman . 

Tim’s interest in Bruce Wayne skyrocketed last year when he was seven because he had compared Batman’s increased interest in Tony Zucco with Bruce Wayne’s interest in prosecuting the attacker of his newly acquired ward’s parents. After some light hacking and stalking, Tim had realized how much Bruce Wayne’s activities aligned with Batman’s. Bruce Wayne had gone to Lex Luthor’s gala right before Batman had exposed his plot to once again attack Superman with kryptonite (come on dude, get another hobby already). 

And sure, they could have just been working together, but Tim was bored and learned how to calculate body dimensions from this one guy online that could calculate people’s heights from just their pictures. His efforts revealed that they have the exact same body proportions. What are the odds that Batman and Bruce Wayne investigate the same people and have the exact same body, but aren’t the same people? Very unlikely, but unfortunately not zero. So Tim resolved to dig deep for supporting evidence.

Of course there are the obvious similarities. They’re both from Gotham, they both are extremely rich (you can’t tell Tim that those Batarangs alone don’t cost a fortune), and they both care deeply about improving Gotham. Batman hates guns, and Bruce Wayne’s parents were murdered at gunpoint.

 Tim could go on and on, but in conclusion, he’s done his research and everything seems to match up. In an effort to unveil the truth and a bit out of hero-worship, Tim had started to follow Batman out on patrol and take pictures. It’s not like he had anything better to do. He’d finished all his responsibilities for the day and he could take care of himself. No one ever notices him anyway. Not even Batman.

Now at eight years old, Tim is almost 100% sure that Bruce Wayne is Batman. Not like there’s anyone he can tell, but he’s proud that he’s one of the only people to ever figure it out. He’s still taking pictures, but instead of evidence of Batman’s identity, they’re now artworks of the hero Tim looks up to and hopes one day will mentor him.

He may not be able to be his son like Jason and Dick, but he would give anything to be Batman’s student, to learn how to protect Gotham and solve cases. 

(Okay maybe he wishes he was Batman’s son a little even though it feels like a betrayal to his parents and makes him a bad son. They don’t need to know about his deepest, darkest desires. Almost every kid wishes their dad was a superhero so it’s totally normal.)

 Honestly, Tim feels like his life has been so boring that the only excitement comes from following around a stranger at night (totally not creepy at all). 

He stares at Jason Todd in this crowded cafeteria, unnoticed and unregarded, mourning that he’ll probably never know what it’s like to have the kind of family Jason does.

 ….

Tim’s lying in his bed, bored after finishing his homework and is looking through his most recent pictures on his camera. Batman had fought Two-Face and his goons the previous night, and Tim had managed to capture some incredibly vivid details of the action. His favorite is of Two-Face getting a rotted tooth knocked out of his mouth.

As he flips to the last picture, he gets a notification on his phone. Eager to see if his parents contacted him (they are the only ones who do besides Mrs. Mac), Tim lunges for it on his nightstand, softly putting his camera on the bed beside him.

He wilts when he realizes that it is just a notification from their security system. He clicks on it to see the video from the camera near their front gate.

What he sees, has him bolting up. A suspicious, black vehicle slowly rolls up in front of the entrance gate. Its windows are all tinted so Tim can’t see who’s inside and it creeps along, only to stop in front of Drake Manor’s driveway.

Terrified that they’re here for him and that there’s no way for Tim to fight them off, he hatches a plan. The holidays are coming up, and he has been watching Christmas movies in preparation. Home Alone is the first thing that comes to his mind.

Rushing through the house, Tim grabs everything that could possibly be used as a weapon or booby trap. He had learned a few self defense moves once he had figured out Batman’s identity because he had been inspired.

Wait .

Duh. Batman literally lives next door. Maybe Tim can run over and get his help. 

Armed to the teeth, Tim sneaks out of the side door, running towards the boundary that separates the two properties. He keeps glancing at his phone to see what that car is doing. 

They are still parked in front of the driveway and there’s no movement of anyone getting out. Confused, Tim stops and checks the rest of the security cameras, noticing a car driving in the opposite direction, just passing the camera of the outer edges of the Drake property. He recognizes it as one of the Wayne cars that the Graysons usually use to travel to their gym and back. 

A suspicion slowly dawns on him and Tim stands still in the middle of the Drake property, waiting for whether it will be confirmed.

When the Graysons’ car comes into view of the strange one, the passenger door starts to open and Tim runs as fast as his short legs can carry him.

As he approaches the gates of Drake Manor, he sees the black car swerve to intercept the Graysons, who screech to a stop to avoid hitting it. Three thugs exit it swaggering confidently toward the other stopped vehicle. The Graysons’ car starts to back up, but one of the goons fires off a warning shot at the bumper. 

Tim jumps behind a large bush by the gate to hide. He lifts the axe he had stolen from his dad’s hunting collection and throws it at the back window of the black car. He can’t help but feel grateful that Dad had taken him axe throwing to celebrate a business deal, though Tim had hated every second of it. He was honestly just glad that his dad had wanted to spend time with him.

The shattering of the glass startles the three goons who turn to look. To further distract them, Tim rolls out a bunch of marbles onto the road. When they try to inspect the damage, they slip on them, falling onto the asphalt. At that moment, Tim opens the gate from his phone, and pops out of the bush to gesture for the Graysons to drive in. 

When the thugs try to follow, Tim sprays them with a fire extinguisher. 

He makes the gate slam closed and enables the security system to go into lockdown so there’s no way for the goons to break in. He turns to see the Graysons’ car parked at the end of the long driveway in front of Drake Manor. 

He runs up to it just in time to see Dick Grayson stumble out of the car and slump over. Concerned, Tim hurries over only to realize he’s heaving with laughter.

Dick suddenly turns to Tim, startling him. “That. was. awesome!” he exclaims, “You sabotaged them so well, it was hilarious!”

“Yes it was very brave of you to do that, but please don’t put yourself in harm’s way like that again, Preciòso [precious]” a voice behind Tim startles him.

He turns to see Mr. and Mrs. Grayson looking at him with parental worry. Uncomfortable, Tim shifts. “It’s okay, I thought they were going to break in so I was prepared,” he replies.

The worry increases, which is the opposite of what TIm had intended. “Where are your parents, sweetie?” Mrs. Grayson questions.

“They’re…um..out..” Tim mumbles.

“Out where? Is there an adult with you?” Mr. Grayson asks, eyebrows creased.

“No… I can take care of myself,” Tim pouts.

“Really? But you’re like five!” Dick exclaims incredulously.

“I’m eight ,” Tim protests.

“That’s still a baby!” the preteen declares. 

“Yes, you shouldn’t be without supervision-” Mr. Grayson starts.

“Who were those people who were after you?” Tim interrupts to change the topic.

The three Graysons exchange looks and then turn in unison to Tim (creepy). “We don’t know.. There’s only one person we can think of that would want to attack us,” Mrs. Grayson muses.

Dick’s face goes pale and then red with anger. “That.. that.. bi-”

“Language, Dick,” Mr. Grayson scolds, looking pointedly at Tim.

Tim grumbles at being treated like a little baby. Mrs. Grayson leans forward and smiles at Tim sweetly. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asks.

Tim blushes in embarrassment and stutters, “I-I’m Tim. Tim Drake.” He shrugs his shoulders shyly. 

“Well, Tim, my name is Mary, and this is my husband, John, and my son, Dick. May we enter your home to phone a friend and let him know what happened?” Mrs. Grayson continues.

Tim nods hurriedly, mortified that he hasn’t shown his guests proper manners. Mother would be so disapproving. 

“Please come in,” he says, unlocking the front door on his phone.

The group troops into the gloomy foyer, which looks untouched and spotless. Tim flushes in embarrassment at how unprepared he is to receive guests. 

He leads them to the sitting room and offers a beverage. Dick is the only one who accepts, requesting a hot chocolate. Tim diligently mixes the powder and milk in a mug, reaching high above his head and standing on his tippy toes to reach the counter. He puts it in the microwave and then carefully balances it on an ornate tray to serve to Dick. 

When he gets back into the sitting room, Mr. Grayson is on the phone while Mrs. Grayson and Dick are looking around the room in interest. It’s filled with artifacts that his parents had found on their various digs.

“Where did your parents get these?” Mrs. Grayson asks.

“They’re archeologists, so they’ve found them in a lot of different places,” Tim explains, placing the tray down in front of Dick who happily starts sipping on the scalding liquid.

Mrs. Grayson’s lips thin in contemplation. Mr. Grayson shoves his phone in his pocket, finished with his call. “Bruce will be here soon,” he informs them.

 Tim’s eyes widen in anticipation of meeting his hero. He sits on the couch shaking in excitement as the others fall into a discussion about what they can do to ensure their safety. Mary turns to Tim. “Do you have anyone that can stay with you? They might target you too because you got in their way. They know where you live!” she says, her voice gradually raising as her concern increases. 

“It’s okay, the security system is really good,” Tim reassures them.

Seemingly not reassured, Mr. Grayson continues the interrogation. “Where are your parents and when will they be back?” he asks sternly, in a bid for Tim to answer honestly. 

Tim is saved by the bell, literally, as the buzzer rings signaling Bruce Wayne’s arrival. Tim checks the cameras to make sure it’s him and then opens the gate remotely. 

Tim then walks over to the door as fast as he can without seeming too eager, but he doesn’t know how much he succeeds at Dick’s amused look. He shyly opens the front door to reveal Bruce Wayne standing on his porch in all his glory.

He gives Tim a soft smile, and the boy blushes hard against his will at meeting his role model.

“Hello, you must be Tim Drake. I’ve heard that you protected my family bravely. Thank you,” the man says sincerely. Tim internally squeals at Bruce Wayne knowing his name, but quickly steels himself to greet the important man politely. 

“Hello, Mr. Wayne. It was no problem. Please come in,” Tim replies. He misses the flash of amusement and fondness in the man’s eyes. 

Tim leads the endeared man to the room the Graysons are in. When they enter, Mr. Wayne is pulled into a tight group hug for a long moment before they break apart and exchange silent looks that Tim isn’t privy to.

Then Dick snitches on him. “Tim isn’t telling us where his parents are, so we don’t know if he’ll be safe from Zucco,” he tells Mr. Wayne, pointing at the youngest.

Mr. Wayne looks around as if expecting Jack or Janet to pop out, and when they don’t he looks at Tim in question. Tim pouts at their persistence and finally responds to get them off his back. “They’re in Egypt right now on a dig. I’ll be fine. We have a really good security system,” he explains (he doesn’t mention that it’s mostly to protect the valuable items in the manor and not him). 

They all exchange more looks, which is starting to annoy Tim. Mr. Wayne kneels down so that he’s eye level with the eight-year-old and gently puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Tim unconsciously leans into the warm, comforting touch.

“Tim…It’s very dangerous for you to be alone. Is there any adult that can look after you? The people who attacked John, Mary, and Dick are from the mob. I’m helping them testify against Tony Zucco, who works for Falcone, because he was the one that caused them to fall, I’m sure you know what happened,” Mr. Wayne explains.

Tim nods in acknowledgement that he knows what happened to the Graysons (practically everyone in Bristol and Gotham do). He figures the mob is trying to kill off or threaten key witnesses in one of their member’s cases. 

“We have a housekeeper, Mrs. Mac, who comes a few days a week,” Tim wheedles, making one last effort to assure them that he’ll be okay so that he doesn’t bother them with having to try and help him.

They all frown. “That’s not good enough,” Mrs. Grayson says decisively, “You can come stay with us until your parents are back.”

The others nod in agreement, even Mr. Wayne, and looking at their expressions, Tim doesn’t think he has a choice. Well, there are a lot of worse options than living with Batman . Tim relents, trying to hide his excitement, and the others smile. Tim runs up to pack his things carefully, making sure to hide his pictures deep in his luggage. 

He’s so caught up in his excitement and anticipation that he misses the four of them exchanging smug smirks, obviously happy to have caught their elusive baby bird. 

….

Tim glances at his phone for the fifth time that day. Like the last few times he had glanced at it, it remains silent with the black screen taunting him. He sighs in defeat, embarrassed at his wishful thinking. It's been 3 months since he had been moved into Wayne Manor, but he still can't shake off the blind hope that his parents are thinking about him. They still don't know that he isn't living at Drake Manor, not for lack of trying on Tim's part. He had called, he had emailed, he had texted. Yet all he received was radio silence.

He wonders when he'll be able to give up, to let go of the people that have abandoned him. They're his parents. He feels a duty to them, but it seems they never felt a duty to him. Tim knows that they're busy, they travel to places that don't have cell-service, but he knows most people spare even a phone call to their children on Christmas Eve. At the very least they could have passed on a message.

Tim has had both the best and worst holiday season of his life. He has felt joy, laughter, and good fun, yet it is a holiday spent without his parents and he feels guilty for not missing them. How is it that strangers give him more consideration than the people who brought him into this world? Was he not enough?

Why does Tim feel more at home in this new place than he ever did in the place he grew up? 

Tim has navigated this planet with the somber acceptance of a child who needed to grow bigger than his britches. He is used to only having himself for company, to watching the other children run by with their friends in hand and their parents at their backs. Maybe that was his destiny, to watch the world as it moves by around him while he's still stuck in the same spot.

But recently, Tim has found himself moving with the world, being embraced by it. He's run hand in hand with boys only a few years his senior. He's had the gentle touch of a mother, the proud smile of a father, the scolding look of a grandfather when he got into a little bit of mischief. Yet none of these are his. They are passing moments of goodwill from kind people who see a lonely little boy and want to give him some happiness.

When his parents return, Tim will too. He'll go back to that stuffy, dusty old house and watch these brilliant people drive by while he continues to stand still. 

Sure, he'll get to see them in passing, of course. He's joined the theater club that Jason is in. The older boy had emphasized their need for someone who is tech savvy enough to run the lights for their upcoming performance. Tim's camera experience made him the perfect candidate. The small boy spends his time after school up above everyone else, shining a spotlight on his classmates, making them brighter than they already are.

The Graysons have also invited him to join their gymnastics classes. Every week, he exits their car and learns how to fly.

All of this belonging has brought about a dilemma. Living in their house makes it imperative for him to participate in all of their holiday traditions. On Thanksgiving, he had devoured Alfred's feast and sat in a large pile of blankets and pillows as the stuffed group slept in the sitting room.  As a family.

And they are a family. It's particularly emphasized during the holidays, but even during daily life it has been made obvious how much the Graysons, the Wayne, the Pennyworth, and the Todds all combine into one large family. The two boys call Bruce Wayne ‘Dad’, they call Catherine Todd ‘Mom’, they call Mary Grayson 'Daj', and they call John Grayson ‘Tati’. On occasion, even Alfred is called ‘Grandfather’. They say it with zero hesitation, completely believing that these five adults care for them as their roles suggest they would. If Tim were to refer to his parents as the roles they played in his life, they would be called Mr. and Mrs. Drake.

During Thanksgiving, the seven of them created a cohesive unit supporting each other when they fall short, and lifting them up when they shine. When stating what they were grateful for, each one of them said that they were grateful for this family. Nothing else seemed as important.

Tim doesn't know how to be part of a family without feeling like a burden. He worries that he takes up too much time out of his parents' day when they call. Even now, waiting for even a mention from them makes him feel ungrateful for what they have chosen to give him. If he asked them what they were grateful for on Thanksgiving, they would probably say their work.

Still, Tim waits faithfully for the phone to ring.

….

When Christmas arrives, Tim isn't expecting much. He thinks maybe he'll get to watch Dick and Jason open up presents. Maybe Alfred will have prepared a delicious feast. What he doesn't expect is to walk down to the bright chatter of a lively bunch. They're seated at the dining table, Alfred's delicious breakfast spread in front of them, but no one is eating.

“What are you guys doing?”  Tim asks.

“Waiting for you sleepyhead.”  Jason replies.

“For me?” Tim asks, confused.

“Yeah, sit down!” Dick says eagerly.

Tim sits down and the rest of them start to dig in. Tim pauses in thought for a moment before joining them. Why were they waiting for him?

After finishing up and moving to the living room to start opening presents, Tim expects to not have any, at the very most only one. However when they start separating out the gifts, he notices that they place just as many down in front of him as they do the other children.

Even more confused, he glances at the stockings hung in front of the fireplace and sees his own name staring back at him on a full stocking. In shock, Tim opens his presents on autopilot, feeling more and more emotional after each one he unveils, all very personal and thoughtful. By the end of it, Tim is fighting back tears. 

He's never felt more at home than at this moment. He finally feels like he belongs somewhere. He runs over every single moment in the past 3 months where each of them reached out to him like they wanted to spend time with him. John had taken the time to invite Tim to his homework sessions. Bruce had let him shadow his work because it interested him. Alfred had learned all of Tim's favorite foods and cooked them for him. Mary had watched him on the skateboard and gave him pointers.  Catherine stopped by his room every night to kiss him on the forehead before he went to sleep. He finally had true friends in Dick and Jason, almost like brothers.

Tim can't think of one time where he had a moment like this with his own parents. The closest they got was during galas, but Tim could sense the underlying falseness in those interactions, the performance his parents put on. 

None of that could be found in any of the faces surrounding Tim in the present day. They all genuinely thought of him as part of their family. Maybe he really isn't a burden to them.

“Are you okay, baby bird?” 

Tim breaks out of his trance at the sound of the concerned voice. He finds everyone looking upon him with confusion and concern. Not wanting to reveal his discovery just yet, Tim evades the topic and replies, “Yeah I just thought I could get a batarang in my stocking, but I guess Batman's cheap.” He looks directly at Bruce.

The resulting range of reactions is hilarious. Dick and Jason look delighted, both joking about wanting a batarang as well. John and Mary look amused as well. Alfred looks exasperated and Bruce…

The Graysons like to try, but never before has Tim ever seen Bruce that flabbergasted. 

He can't help but to feel proud.

“How did you figure it out?” Dick asks.

“I knew before I even met you,” Tim smirks, “Don't worry, not everyone can be Batman's neighbor.”

Tim is then subjected to an interrogation on how exactly he figured it out. Upon explaining the intricacies of his research and examination, the family pours over the pictures he's taken. They fawn over his talent and Tim blushes from the attention and praise. Unfortunately he is now banned from taking any more of patrol without Batman knowing and someone keeping him safe. 

With the secret now out in the open the atmosphere is even more relaxed than it ever has been. Mary turns to Tim and smiles in triumph. 

“Well, we can't give you back now.”

Chapter Text

Zucco grits his teeth, grinding into the sharp points. His shackles clang against the bars of his cell as the pig drags him out. Zucco’s no stranger to jail cells. Growing up on the streets of Gotham, you gotta commit crimes to survive. You’re either a criminal or fucking dead.

Zucco thought he was past this though. Rising up the ranks of Falcone’s gang had given him some level of protection from the law. How was he supposed to know those fucking circus freaks would win the heart of that bitch Brucie fucking Wayne. 

If the dumbass Costa hadn’t had the stupid fuckin’ idea to steal the trapeze equipment first to send a message, the acrobats would have gone splat and been six feet under. Then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this bullshit trial.

Because it did happen, Zucco’s stuck with an attempted murder trial pushed for by the richest man in Gotham and a bunch of trapeze crap in storage. He hadn’t gotten around to finding a way to dump it. People would notice them dragging those stupid things to Gotham Harbor that’s for sure and a fire that large would’ve caught too much attention.

Then his idiot goons had humiliated him even further by getting run off by a fucking toddler…yeah he’s never gonna trust them with anything except brute force again if he gets out of this. He needs to ask Sal for henchmen with at least one brain cell.

He’s jerked out of his fuming when he’s forced onto a hard wooden chair next to his lawyers. Fuck, I’m gonna kill that bitchass cop when I get free .

“All rise,” the bailiff proclaims. Then the hoity toity judge walks in with her nose held high. Zucco chances a glance at the prosecution and sees Brucie Wayne sitting right behind the attorneys at the table with the fucking Flying Graysons or whatever the fuck they’re called.

God just seeing their faces makes him want to have succeeded in killing them. The brat is swinging his legs and glaring at Zucco like he killed his parents or something. His parents are ignoring him and focusing on the judge. Zucco examines their state and smirks at the lady’s cane and hearing aids. The man looks frustratingly healthy, but Zucco hopes those glasses aren’t due to age.

Zucco makes eye contact with Brucie Wayne and expects the usual dumb look on his face, but startles at the cold stare thrown his way. Jeez he didn’t know the rich boy had it in him.

The prosecution is up first, and of course the fucking Bat is on their side. No way the pigs got all this evidence without him. No wonder he seemed to appear at their operations more often. The asshole found the missing trapeze equipment and matching fingerprints with his goons. Now that isn’t enough to be substantial evidence, but they had the circus master call in and give his testimony about their confrontation. Everyone in the circus submitted written testimony about how stable their makeshift equipment was during practice, and an expert demonstrated how the frayed rope of the swing couldn’t be just wear and tear. 

A Dr. Robinson, who had treated the Graysons, emphasized how close to death they were and how if they fell from a slightly higher height or hadn’t had emergency treatment in time, they would not have survived. Who knew the playboy retained anything in his brain let alone what he learned in medical school. Zucco always thought he dropped out because he was so stupid even his money wasn’t enough to keep him there. 

When his lawyer gets up, Zucco knows he’s most likely screwed. The only thing going in their favor is that his fingerprints aren’t on the trapeze equipment because he forced his goons to move it. He can try to argue that there’s no evidence they work for him.

Zucco feels his stomach sink when his lawyer gets up there and proceeds to bomb his defence. Now he knows he has a good lawyer, so this stupid argument that Zucco actually saved their lives by stealing the equipment and making them build a shorter one, is absolutely on purpose.

With that, Zucco knows his grave has been dug. He's no longer seen as useful to the gang and is too much of a burden. He brought so much attention in a high profile case for such a meager amount of money they didn’t even get.

His chest starts to burn with anger as the jury scoffs at the lawyer’s shoddy attempts to defend him. He doesn’t even get to testify and defend himself. When the jury comes back after a short deliberation, Zucco is pronounced guilty. The judge then sentences him to 10 years without parole. 

Zucco growls under his breath when he sees the relaxed posture of his opposition. The brat even looks like he’s laughing at him. Everything he’s worked for is gone just like that. He doesn’t presume he’ll get to go back to the gang after he serves his time. 

As he’s escorted out of the courtroom, Zucco makes an attempt to punch the traitorous lawyer, but is quickly held back. He’s dragged kicking and screaming back to his cell before he’s transferred to Blackgate the next day. 

….

Blackgate is a familiar hellhole. Zucco hasn’t stayed in it long previously, but facing ten fucking years in this place adds a layer of fear and dread he hasn’t experienced before.

He’s gonna spend his entire time here trying to escape and go somewhere where he can kill people and make money in fucking peace. Maybe he’ll join ICE.

Zucco is dragged through hallways of howling prisoners banging on the bars of their cells as the new inmates pass by. He’s pushed into one roughly and spits out a curse when he has to lean against a bunk bed to avoid falling. 

When the hubbub moves farther away as the rest of the newbies are hustled along, Zucco is able to gain his bearings and look around what will be his living area for the foreseeable future. 

It’s a dump, ‘cuz of course it is. There is one bunk bed in the small room and a toilet and sink fucking crammed into the tiny ass space. He then notices a bulky figure lounging on the top bunk. He scoffs. Of course he has a celly. He needs to figure out if he can bitch the dude around. 

“Hey, motherfucker, give me the top bunk,” he calls out.

“Fight me for it,” a gravelly voice responds, sounding pissed off.

Zucco climbs up and tries dragging the asshole off the bunk, but the fatass is heavier than he looks. Actually no, the beer belly sticking out gives his weight away, but Zucco wasn’t part of the mob for nothing. He knows how to fight. So it’s extra frustrating that he’s actually struggling to push this guy off.

 After a few minutes of wrestling, a voice yells out for the cell next door, “Hey, keep the fucking quiet, I’m tryin’ to sleep here!” A round of jeers sound out in response.

They stop, glaring at each other. His cellmate’s face finally comes into clear view, and the first thing Zucco notices is bright blue eyes that almost glow in the dark. He backs off and leans against the other end of the bed. 

“What you in for?” he grunts.

“None of your fucking business,” the other growls.

“If we’re gonna be cellmates you gotta open up somewhat,” Zucco drawls.

“Then why don’t you tell me what you’re in here for,” the other retorts.

“I asked first,” Zucco says flippantly.

His cellmate growls again and reluctantly admits, “I was working for a gang.”

“As a henchman?” Zucco asks.

“Yeah, what about it,” the other replies defensively. 

Zucco raises his hand placatingly. “Nothing, just hope you were better than my henchies. They’re the reason I’m here,” he says tightly.

The other man raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I answered. Now you have to tell me what you’re in for,” he demands.

“Attempted murder on those fucking circus freaks,” Zucco scowls.

“The ones living with Bruce Wayne?” his cellmate asks interestedly. 

Zucco grunts in affirmation. The other slowly smirks.

“My family’s living with him too. Why’d you think he did it, huh? My bet’s that he’s fucking my wife, the whore she is, and that’s why they’re shacking up,” he sneers. 

Realizing they have a common enemy, Zucco grins widely, emphasizing his sharp canines. “Nah..” he drawls, “Those brats look awfully similar, don’t you think? My bet’s that he’s fucking them too.”

His cellmate snorts. “I’m not taking that bet. My wife would do anything for drugs, including selling the kid, so probably. Serves them right for abandoning me after everything I did for them if you ask me,” he agrees.

Zucco nods his head in agreement, reveling in the idea of the circus brat getting what was coming to him. After reaching an understanding with his cellmate, Zucco doesn’t think his stay will be the worst he imagined. If anything they can get through it by shitting on Gotham’s favorite playboy billionaire and his band of charity cases. 

“The name’s Tony Zucco. What’s yours?” he asks.

“Willis Todd.”

….

Five years in prison feel like both the slowest time has ever moved and just a blink of an eye.  Zucco has been so fucking bored once he gave up on escaping. He’s not used to just sitting and doing nothing. He’s used to running, to the adrenaline of gun fights, staring death in the face and refusing to back down. 

 Which is why he tends to pick fights on the regular just to have some excitement in his life. 

Some new inmates had arrived earlier this morning and Zucco is itching to feel out the new blood. He scans the crowd in the cafeteria, trying to find the easy pickings. There are usually two types of prisoners. Those that try to keep their head down and avoid attention, or the ones that posture, emanating cockiness that Zucco just wants to crush. 

He nudges Todd when he spots a particularly skinny guy in the corner, eating by himself. The two exchange a smirk before heading over. 

“Mind if we sit here?” Zucco drawls as the two men sit down on either side of the poor sod, flanking him. He hears snorts and grunts around them as people scoff. This show is familiar to them, so most people just ignore it, aside from the nosy ones. 

“Sure why not,” the man between them mutters.

Narrowing his eyes at the disrespect, Zucco decides to not go easy on this punk. Apparently having the same idea, Todd grabs him by the hair to force his head up and turned to look at him. “Hey look at us when we’re talking to you,” Todd scowls. 

The little shit just rolls his eyes and continues to eat while making eye contact with Todd. Furious, Zucco swipes his tray off the table. The weasel turns to him as much as he can with Todd still holding his hair, and glares. 

That’s fucking it. Zucco goes to throw a punch, which connects with his cheek. The man spits out some blood from a split lip, but still looks defiant. 

Todd slams his face down on the table, bruising his nose, which starts bleeding.

“Hey, quit it or you’re going into solitary,” a guard says, sounding disinterested and distracted, not even looking at them. They usually don’t care if it doesn’t get too wild.

“Hey, say something,” Zucco commands.

The man just turns back to Todd and his face takes on a calculating edge. The movement is too quick for either of them to see coming. All Zucco sees is a glint in the corner of his eye and then Todd is grunting in pain, clutching his stomach. A stain of blood gets bigger, seeping into his white tank top. 

“What the fuck?!” Zucco bellows, which catches everyone else’s attention. A clamor starts up when they realize that Todd was stabbed. Guards start to make their way over, but before they can reach the scene, the man takes another deliberate swipe with the knife, slitting Todd’s throat. 

Zucco’s cellmate keels over as blood gushes out of his throat. Horrified, Zucco shoots up from his seat and backpedals as the cafeteria erupts in chaos. Half the room is cheering in encouragement while the other half is retreating in terror. Many take the opportunity to brawl. The guards are shouting, trying to manage the hysteria. 

Overwhelmed by the frantic energy around him and the sight of his cell- no, friend’s body slumped over on the table in a pool of blood, Zucco doesn’t notice the psycho coming at him. Now Zucco has always thought he was desensitized to the worst of the violence in the world. But for some reason, in this moment, he stands frozen, staring wide-eyed at Todd whose eyes have gone glassy. 

Maybe on an instinctive level he knew he had no chance fighting back against this lethal entity. The man is lithe and deadly, striking fast and precise. Before Zucco processes it, a blade is embedded into his gut. 

The man has a manic smile on his face, reminiscent of the Joker, and Zucco shudders as he leans up to whisper in his ear, “Lights out, courtesy of Falcone. He thinks you’ve breathed air long enough. Seems you’ve caused too much trouble here, hurting his reputation, and it got back to him.”

All Zucco can do is cough out a spurt of blood. The knife gets jerked out and he’s kicked to the floor. The hellish man stands on his wound, prompting a wheeze to burst out of him. 

“Night, night,” the man mocks, swinging down in an arc that seems slow motion to Zucco (which would have been helpful a few seconds ago). 

Tony Zucco once again stares death in the face, but this time he doesn’t come out victorious.

Chapter Text

Catherine blinks at the ceiling, dazed. There’s a dark red stain that she focuses on, not remembering where it came from. Was it already there when they moved in? The edges of her vision are blurred and noises around her are muffled, like she’s underwater. 

She snaps out of it when she’s shaken aggressively. 

“Mom…MOM!” 

She jerks her head to the side to see Jason looking down at her in terror. His face looks pale and drawn, dark bags under his eyes and hollowed cheeks. Catherine tries to ask what’s wrong, but all she can manage is a tiny rasp as she moves her lips. 

“Mom, snap out of it! He’s gonna get us!” Jason hisses frantically. He tries to pull her off the couch she’s lying in, but her legs are too weak and she collapses onto the floor. “Come on!” Jason cries, trying to drag her to her feet, but he’s too weak to support even Catherine’s light weight. 

Catherine tries to scramble up, but her head is rushing and all she can do is stare at her pale hands on the grimy wooden floor. A loud bang catches her attention, and the breath leaves Jason’s body. 

A pool of blood starts to drip from his chest, barely visible on his red hoodie, but from her close proximity, Catherine can see every detail of his bullet wound. He coughs and blood splatters onto Catherine’s face. Catherine tries to scream, but her throat seems locked up, unable to make a sound. 

“Hey, bitch, where do ya’ll think you’re going?” a familiar gravelly voice sounds behind her. She used to love that voice. It comforted her through a cancer diagnosis and celebrated her remission. It read her a book to sleep when she was in too much pain to relax. It promised her a life she’d always dreamed of. A family. 

Then it slowly morphed into the ugliness she hears now. It started with a layoff, and then drinking to cope. He turned to criminal activities to support the two of them, and over time, the alcoholism poisoned his brain. It was almost too imperceptible to notice at first. When you see something everyday, you don’t notice the changes until it hits you in the face. Literally, in her case.

Catherine doesn’t remember the straw that broke the camel’s back, but one day she was in what she thought was a happy marriage despite their financial struggles, and the next she was bruised black and blue for not having dinner ready when he got home. 

Because of her cancer, it was hard for her to find work, especially because the pain was so intense at times even after her remission, so they solely relied on his paycheck. He would use this as a way to control her, to get her to listen to his every whim, no matter how unreasonable. 

Eventually, Catherine couldn’t take the pain anymore and stole some pain medication from the local pharmacy. But that wasn’t enough. She graduated to harder and harder drugs until she was numb to everything, just how she liked it.

Catherine had almost given up until sweet Jason came into her life.

His tiny little fingers, his tiny little toes, and the tiny, pink little mouth that yawned cutely in his sleep. She spent hours just holding the baby boy to her chest, thanking whoever was out there for sparing her that peace. 

He gave her a purpose, a reason to keep pushing on. He made her feel again.

And he’s now standing in front of her bleeding and frightened. No, no, no. Catherine mouths her disbelief as she frantically tries to slow the bleeding by applying pressure with her hands. Jason groans in pain and cries out sharply when another bullet embeds in his arm. 

Stop! Catherine tries to protest, turning to the massive frame in the doorway. No sound comes out, but she hopes her face says it all.

Her husband’s face is cast in shadow, but his cruel sneer is ever so clear. He’s holding a pistol in one hand and a crowbar in another. He starts to advance on them and Catherine drags Jason down so she can curl around him and shield him like she always tries to (she’s not always successful).

Her son cries out in pain again at the movement, and Catherine echoes it when she feels the crowbar make contact with her spine. 

“How dare you try to disobey me!” Willis booms, wailing on her in anger. Catherine just clutches her boy tighter and tries to dissociate from the pain. She’s dealt with worse. This is nothing compared to cancer. 

Willis drops the crowbar and Catherine sees him take aim with the pistol at her head. She braces herself, but it just clicks, signaling that he’s out of ammunition. Catherine quickly grabs the crowbar he dropped and swings out to make him stumble back. Adrenaline pumping in her veins, she tries to make her escape with Jason, grabbing him by the wrist and running to the door. 

Alarmingly, he’s yanked out of her grip and pulled into Willis’, the burly man gripping him by the neck and against his chest so the boy’s feet can’t touch the ground. Jason tries to struggle, but he’s weakened by the blood loss.

Willis’ lip curls up into a cruel, victorious grin.  

 “Mom!” is Jason’s final cry when a sudden explosion engulfs the two figures in flames.  Catherine is thrown back against the front door and can only watch in horror as her family is turned to ash. 

Catherine closes her eyes tightly, but they jerk open again to a pitch black room. She’s panting hard, and it takes a moment to orient herself. She slowly sits up and looks around, taking in the familiar room. It was only a nightmare. “Fuck,” she whispers, burying her head into her knees and cradling them with her arms. 

She’s been having more dreams about Willis ever since she heard about his death as if she’s unconsciously punishing herself for not grieving him. She had already grieved her husband a long time ago, and whoever had died a few days ago was a complete stranger.

That didn’t stop her brain from showing her crap like this. Catherine sighs and gets up shakily to go hold Jason and reassure herself that he’s okay.

….

Catherine stares at her boys as light filters through the windows of Wayne Manor’s library for once. It casts a halo-like glow on their dark heads, reminding her of their childlike innocence before it slowly turned into teenage cynicism. 

They’ve all grown so much in the past five years, and although Catherine is proud of the maturity reflected in their more experienced eyes, she sometimes misses when they all fit comfortably in her arms. At seventeen, Dick is almost fully grown, barely reaching John’s height. With the proper nutrition he has finally been receiving, fifteen-year-old Jason has also shot up like a weed, but he is yet to fill out completely. He’s almost reaching Bruce’s height which is a huge feat. Tim has thankfully stayed relatively short at the moment, the thirteen-year-old still the shortest in the family, but he has pouted about wanting his growth spurt to hit him already. 

Catherine just wants to hold on to them as long as she can.

A lot has changed since she and Jason stepped into Wayne Manor for the first time. Catherine has now been sober for over five years. A healthy and happy life, as well as a responsibility to three precocious boys, has done wonders in keeping her from any drugs or alcohol. Additionally, access to advanced treatments has relieved her chronic pain a little, so she has less reason to seek out pain medication. 

Catherine’s own recovery due to the generosity shown to her inspired her to open up a free rehab center, similar to Leslie’s clinic. Because she herself isn’t a doctor (she’s currently studying to become a physician assistant to work with patients more directly), she has hired a staff of medical professionals who have become her second family. Catherine mainly oversees the administrative side of things, but always makes sure to be open with her story so patients know that they have someone to confide in. She takes the time to meet every single one of them to show them they matter. 

When she was struggling with her addiction, the idea that no one would care if anything happened to her and that Jason may even be better off, was a huge part of what enabled her behavior. She didn’t feel the motivation to get better because she felt utterly alone. She doesn’t want that for anyone else if she can help it.

Being able to work with something she is passionate about is so fulfilling, and she cannot be more grateful to Bruce for funding her dream. 

Everyone in their family has gotten to pursue a dream of theirs. It’s like Bruce is their fairy godmother. Dick has been training for the Olympics while applying to the biology major at Gotham University. His goal is to eventually go to med school after being inspired by Bruce’s rescue and the other medical professionals that aided the Grayons’ recovery. He is considering physical therapy, emergency medicine (like Dr. Robinson and Bruce), or general medicine (like Leslie). Physical therapy is most related to Dick’s interest in sports, so it’s his first choice, but he says he’s happy as long as he’s helping people. 

John and Mary help him train at their gym, one that is still running and has grown quite popular for their ability to teach people flips they can show off. 

Alfred, bless him, is still managing the household magnificently, and he even sits down to eat with them sometimes! He and Bruce have grown even closer, if that was possible, and the man is a fabulous grandfather, baking the children all sorts of sweets (especially in the face of their parents’ disapproval). 

Finally a teenager, Tim is ecstatic to be let into the Batcave more regularly. He’s even convinced Batman to let him help out from the cave, as his technological abilities and deductive skills are amazing. Jack and Janet Drake are really missing out on their talented, good-hearted son, but Catherine is unwilling to let them get their sharp claws anywhere near him again. Thankfully, they sold Drake Manor and are god knows where (hopefully very far away). Tim looks a lot lighter whenever they pass his old house now, almost as if he has finally let them go and stopped waiting for them. 

Like all their children, Tim wants to do good in this world, and Catherine has no doubt that he will eventually join Bruce at Wayne Enterprises after he graduates college with that brilliant mind of his. She can’t wait to see what initiatives he comes up with. 

Catherine is very proud of how far they have all come. They have all changed and grown in their own ways, but the one constant is this family that they have created. 

….

Bruce…has actually changed quite a bit. Against his will if he says so himself. Which he does. Loudly. 

His three coparents and guardian finally put their foot down a couple years ago when they forced him to get a life. More particularly, friends. When he tried to argue that he had them and Selina, they postulated that Selina still didn’t count and that they were primarily family. Gordon was acknowledged, but the two spent most of their time discussing cases, which was more work than anything else. Lucius was also classified as a professional comrade. He needed friends who knew both sides of him and could relate.

So they made him contact his fellow superheroes (a title he resented- “I’m a vigilante!”). They framed it in such a way that convinced him it was optimal to have a group of Earth’s mightiest heroes to defend the world from its most dangerous threats. No matter how skilled Batman is, it couldn’t help to have an indestructible alien, an Amazonian warrior, the fastest man alive, someone who could create anything they imagined, the king of the oceans, and a mindreading shapeshifter by his side. 

They even let him ban them from Gotham. For now. Catherine knows they will do everything in their power to make Bruce take back the stupid rule he insisted on. No metas in Gotham…what a joke. Not like there are tons of meta villains he just sends to Arkham.

The Justice League made their debut against Darkseid, and proceeded to argue amongst themselves after they had tirelessly sent the villain packing. Batman, being the mysterious brooding presence he is, left the conflict resolution to Superman, and just sent them all packets on what to improve on through email. It took a lot of time (and scolding on Catherine and others’ part) to get Batman to take on his leadership role properly and for the Justice League to form even a semblance of a team, but they finally did it!

Batman even called them tolerable once!

Catherine is itching to meet them, and she’s sure the rest of the family is as well, so they’ve concocted a plan to meet the Justice League and embarrass Bruce. 

The next time the Justice League is defeating a world-destroying threat, Batman’s family monitors the battle. When it looks like it's finally over, they use this cool new zeta technology to teleport close to the scene. 

Now, Tim is their secret weapon as the baby of the family. He may be a teenager now, but he’s still able to win Bruce over easily with his puppy eyes. Honestly Bruce finds it hard to say no to all of them, but it is especially hard when Tim pins him with his wide, blue eyes. 

“BATMAN!!!” Tim screams, waving frantically at the gathered heroes. Now as a parent, hearing your child scream for you in the aftermath of a dangerous attack can activate fight or flight. Batman is running towards them before even Flash can register it. 

Concerned, the other heroes follow. 

“Tim! What’s wrong?” Batman asks, seemingly too worried to be discreet. He pats over Tim, checking for injury. “I just wanted to say ‘hi’, I’m a big fan,” Tim responds mischievously. Batman levels him with a look (as much as he can under the cowl), clearly disapproving of the fright Tim had given him.

“Wait Spooky, you know him?” Green Lantern questions.

Batman turns his usual glare on him, but it seems the Justice League has developed some immunity against it because though they flinch back, they don’t seem willing to let it go.

Catherine turns to the rest of her family in curiosity, wondering what their next move is. Most of them, bar Alfred, actually seem quite starstruck. Dick is gaping at Superman while Jason is blushing while looking shyly up at Wonder Woman through his eyelashes. Since Batman is Tim’s favorite hero, seemingly not changing even after living with him for years, he seems less affected, but Catherine knows that it just means he’s more likely to be the one causing trouble. 

Even John and Mary are looking at the gathered group in amazement. 

Catherine clears her throat, gaining everyone’s attention. She shrinks under the powerful stares, but steels herself. “We were just checking on Batman because it seemed quite dangerous,” she bullshits. 

She can see Batman narrow his eyes at her under his cowl in her periphery. “I am fine. I am more concerned about civilians entering the battlefield,” Batman growls pointedly. 

“What’s the connection between you guys?” Flash asks, seemingly invested in their interactions. Catherine’s honestly surprised he hasn’t grabbed some popcorn quickly with his super-speed.  

“Nothing-”

“Aw, you haven’t told them about us, dad?” Jason finally speaks up, having snapped out of his awe and back to his trouble-making sassiness. 

Batman lets out a responding growl, but seems resigned to their interference. 

“DAD?!” Green Lantern and Flash exclaim. Martian Manhunter just looks knowing, obviously having figured out what was going on already and sitting back to watch in amusement. 

The rest of the league looks surprised as well. “You have a kid, Batman?” Wonder Woman asks, intrigued, “He looks sweet.” She observes Jason intently, who sputters, completely flustered and speechless. Catherine holds in her giggle to not embarrass him more. Her Jason is the reddest she’s ever seen him, except for that time he had gotten really sunburned one hot Gotham summer. 

Dick and Tim don’t hold back and cackle at their brother who can’t do anything in retaliation, obviously not wanting to ruin Wonder Woman’s image of his sweetness. He settles for a quick glare out of her view.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Batman deadpans.

“Fuck you, old man,” Jason snaps, then blushes. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking at Wonder Woman apologetically. 

“Why are you apologizing to her ?” Batman asks incredulously, “You cursed at me!”

Woman Woman bursts out laughing and drags Jason affectionately under her arm. “You are funny, young one,” she says. Jason looks like he could die happy in that moment. 

“Hello, again,” Superman greets Dick, who grins widely at him, “You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you.”

“Hi, Superman!” Dick exclaims, “It’s great to see you again. Can you fly me around like last time?”

“Dick. Superman is not here for your amusement,” Batman scolds, but when he turns away, Superman winks at Dick and mouths ‘later’. Dick nearly combusts in excitement. 

“Who are the rest of you?” Aquaman asks. 

“We are Master Batman’s family, good sir,” Alfred replies, “These three are his sons and these three are his coparents and good friends.”

“Spooky’s a dad?!” Green Lantern asks, shocked. He seems to be having a hard time processing what’s going on. “I thought he was forever alone with the amount of times he told us, ‘I work alone’,” he imitates Batman’s growl (badly). 

Tim snorts. “Sure, he worked alone, not anymore obviously,” he says gesturing at the fellow heroes, “but he was never alone outside of Batman, even when he only had Alfred.”

“Who’s Alfred?” Flash asks. 

“That would be me, young man,” Alfred replies. 

“I thought he lived in a cave like a vampire,” Green Lantern whispers (loudly) to Aquaman, who looks like he actually agrees. 

“Wait,” Superman interrupts, looking wide-eyed, “Batman’s your dad?” he asks Dick. Crap. Catherine forgot that because Superman recognizes the Graysons from Dick’s birthday party, he would also remember who Dick’s dad was. Batman seems to come to the same conclusion as Catherine and stares holes into Superman’s face daring him to try and expose his secret identity. Superman just shakes his head in understanding, obviously agreeing to keep the secret. He still seems to look at Batman in a new light, however. Bruce has a softer edge than Batman, and Superman seems to be trying to connect the different sides of him. 

Though the public knows about their family dynamics, Bruce has largely kept them out of the spotlight, so most don't know what they look like unless they know them personally (like the boys' classmates). This means that the other leaguers (other than Martian Manhunter and Superman) probably haven't connected them to Bruce Wayne. Yet . It’s only a matter of time before they figure out Batman’s identity and although Catherine would be worried if it was anyone else, over the years that they have been working together,   she and the other Wayne Manor residents have started to trust them. 

Catherine hopes that Batman can see he can trust them too. They are superheroes too. They understand his lifestyle and know the importance of having a secret identity. Catherine would eat her shoe if Batman hasn’t already figured out theirs. It’s only fair for them to know his as well. Honestly, Catherine is so tempted to create a bonding night to promote a positive work environment for them if they won't confide in each other. She’s learned a lot through running her rehab center. 

“Great! Now that we’ve established that Batman isn’t soulless, I’m hungry. Do you all want to grab a bite together? I’ve always wanted to try a place here,” Tim says, clapping his hands together excitedly. 

The leaguers exchange looks before shrugging. 

“Why not?” Superman says. 

“I’ll never say no to food!” Flash exclaims. 

Wonder Woman nods, Jason still in her grasp and not even trying to get free.

Which is how Catherine has found herself in a small run-down Chinese restaurant (which apparently is a good sign according to Tim) eating with a group of superheroes that had just finished saving the world. What is her life?

….

“Mom,” Jason says gravely. 

Catherine glances up from where she is going over applications for her center. Her office is attached to her bedroom, and she takes pride in taking care of it. For the longest time, Catherine wasn’t able to work, and that made her feel useless. Now that she is able to, she makes sure to take her work on with dedication. Part of that includes making sure her workspace is organized and encourages productivity. 

Catherine sees her son standing in her doorway, clutching a sheet of paper and looking pale.

“What is it?” she asks curiously. 

Jason makes his way into the room and slams the paper face-down onto her mahogany desk. Catherine cautiously slides the paper out from under his palm. She blanches when she reads what’s on it. “How did you get this?” she questions.

“Needed to do it for a school project,” Jason mumbles, “we had to examine our ancestry for bio.”

Catherine purses her lips together tightly. She knows she’s been holding off on talking to Jason about this, but she didn’t know how to bring it up. First she came up with the excuse that he was too young to understand, but now that he is a teenager, Catherine knows she was worried about how he would react and how it would change their relationship. 

 “Mom…tell me why my DNA test shows that a Sheila Haywood is my mother, and not you,” Jason demands. 

Catherine flinches and tightens her grip on the damning page. “I thought you were too young to find out,” she starts. Jason sucks in a breath, prepared to protest, but she holds up her hand before he can interject. “I know you’re old enough to know now, but I have been having a hard time bringing it up,” Catherine explains, “I was worried it would change how you thought of me.”

“You’ll always be my mom,” Jason affirms, “but who is Sheila Haywood?”

“I…don’t know, Jay. Willis just came home with you one day and said you were here to stay. I fell in love with you right away, so I never really tried to figure out who your biological mom was. I can’t have biological kids because of my cancer, so you and your brothers are my miracles.” Catherine tells him. 

Jason blushes and mumbles, “I love you too…or whatever.”

Catherine smiles at her flustered son and gets up to pull him into a hug. “We can ask Batman to look for her,” she reassures, “I know you’re probably curious. I was silly thinking she could ever take you away from me.”

….

When they go to talk to Batman, he’s hunched over the Batcomputer. Catherine almost feels bad for adding more to his plate, but she remembers that he would be happy to do something for them. After five years, there are still times she has to adjust to living with people who don’t view her as a burden.

“B!” Jason calls out. 

Batman turns to them in curiosity. It’s rare for Catherine to be in the Batcave.

“We had a request for you,” Catherine starts, “There is a woman we would like to find. Her name is Sheila Haywood.”

Batman raises an eye in interest. He grunts in acknowledgement, but his silence prompts further explanation. “She’s my bio mom,” Jason blurts out. 

Bruce’s eyes widen in understanding. He takes off his cowl and stands up to give Jason a comforting hug. Jason melts into his arms. “Did you know Mom wasn’t my biological mom?” Jason mumbles into his chest. 

“I have everyone’s DNA and blood tests on file for emergencies,” is all Bruce says in reply. Catherine just rolls her eyes, not surprised. Bruce had probably compared their DNA and blood types and realized they weren’t biologically related. He was probably just waiting for her to bring it up, and she’s grateful that he gave that opportunity to her. 

“I will look into her,” Bruce promises into Jason’s curly hair. 

….

Batman tracks Sheila Haywood down to a refugee aid camp in Ethiopia, but before he can connect her with Jason and Catherine, the Joker decides to cause trouble conveniently in the same place Batman was visiting. 

Catherine later hears how Batman had tracked the Joker down to an abandoned warehouse rigged with explosives. They had an altercation and Batman had just managed to escape before the warehouse blew. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it), Batman hadn’t had time to evacuate the warehouse, so many of the Joker’s accomplices were killed. 

When sorting through the wreckage, Batman had stumbled on not only the Joker’s body, but Sheila Haywood’s body as well. Shocked, Batman delved deep into her background and uncovered some pretty disturbing things. Working for the Joker just barely scratched the surface. A history of malpractice, embezzlement, and a slew of other crimes littered her shady past. 

When Jason insists on reading the report, Catherine is right by his side as he breaks down. Devastated, Jason cries, “Why did both my bio parents have to turn out to be assholes? I know she gave me up, but maybe some part of me hoped that she’d want to be part of my life.”

Catherine just holds him through it, cursing the people that had hurt her son. “Thank you,” Jason chokes out, “Thank you for being my mom.”

“It is my absolute pleasure,” Catherine says fiercely, clutching him tight to her chest and cradling him like she used to do when he was a baby. 

Bruce had left to give them some space, and after a long moment of Jason releasing his overwhelming emotions, Catherine pulls away and rubs his back as his sniffles peter out. 

“Jason, we’re your family now. It doesn’t matter who your biological parents are. We are your true family, and the only thing I will ever be grateful to them for is bringing you to us. You are destined for great things,” Catherine comforts. 

Jason snorts. “Yeah, like being an English teacher is a great thing,” he says. 

Catherine gasps. “Is that what you want to do?” she asks, excited. Jason has so many interests like theater and literature, so Catherine hadn’t known what he wanted to do when he graduated high school. 

“Yeah, I want to major in English and education,” Jason smiles shyly. He has always been excited to go to college after it turned into a dream he could reach. 

“That’s amazing!” Catherine exclaims, “You have no idea how great of a thing that is. You’ll influence so many people’s lives. You are such a special person!” She looks at him with pride.

Jason blushes bright red and seems to have had his fill of sappiness for the day because he makes a quick escape back up to Wayne Manor. Catherine follows him up and beams when he sees he’s joined his brothers in the living room to play Mario Kart. 

So much has changed since they got to Wayne Manor. The first few months were rough as Jason had to adapt on his own and Catherine was struggling with her recovery. He had told her how long it had taken him to slowly accept the kindness he was shown for what it was. Sometimes she feels guilty for leaving him there all alone, but she knows she had to get better for the both of them first. 

Now he seems completely at home, and as Alfred hands her a cup of tea and Mary smiles at her in passing, Catherine knows that she is too.

Chapter Text

A flash of purple flutters in her periphery. She’d always loved the color. The calming shade of lavender, the evocative effect of plum. To her, the color gave strength and confidence. It allowed her to stand tall, feel powerful.

Which is something she needs a lot of right now.

Her hands shake as she peeks her eyes over the ledge. This had sounded like a way cooler idea before it came down to her actually doing it. 

Even when she had just heard whispers of the Bat and saw grainy footage of a figure disappearing into the shadows, she had always respected him. Seeing him put away lowlifes like her father and save people from cruel and horrible fates gave her hope for a brighter future. 

Now with him getting more media attention as part of the Justice League, Stephanie can see more often how he glides over rooftops and knocks out criminals with artistic movements. He is a bringer of not just justice, but vengeance. Someone who protects the sanctity of life and will make sure people are not harmed if he can help it.

With that as her role model, it’s no wonder that when she heard that her dad had returned to his activities as Cluemaster, she couldn’t just stand by.  She needed to spoil his plans..

Stephanie takes a deep breath and backs up away from the ledge. She braces herself, and then books it, taking a flying leap off the rooftop. She lets out a high pitched scream that she will deny forever and shoots out her DIY grappler (they don’t have those lying around okay).

It’s probably not a good idea, but she closes her eyes, hoping for it to connect with the roof across from her. If she went through all this trouble just to die right here, she’s going to resurrect herself just to bang her head against a wall in humiliation.  

Thankfully it does hook onto something, and Stephanie swings through a window of the warehouse in front of her. Glass rains down around her as the thugs under her dad’s employ turn towards the commotion. She rolls to break her fall when she lands, indigo cape flaring out behind her. She brandishes her staff (which is really more of a cane she found in a dumpster) and leaps at them before they can react. 

She hasn’t trained for this, but everyone growing up in the Narrows knows how to fight. Aside from her newly intense workout routine, Stephanie’s decided to just wing it. She can and will fight dirty to stop these goons. 

Honestly, it’s going pretty well, she thinks. She’s knocked out a good number of them and she’s quick enough that they are too worried about friendly fire to shoot. She does take a good many hard hits, but it's nothing new to her. Like that would be enough to take her down.

Stephanie is starting to feel the thrill of victory flow through her veins as she dropkicks the last of her father’s operatives on the current job. She stands in the middle of a sea of groaning or unconscious bodies huffing in exertion, eyes fixed on her bloodstained violet gloves.  

She’s so distracted with processing what she has just done that she’s too late to react to movement in the corner of her eye. She had apparently missed a lackey that had probably gone to take a shit or something, and he’s standing in front of her with his gun raised before her head is even fully looking in his direction. 

Stephanie blanches, urging her legs to throw her out of harm's way, but they’re shaky with exhaustion and they wobble in place. Stephanie feels her knees collapse as the gun goes off. The bullet ricochets off the ceiling and embeds in a crate. 

Stephanie watches in amazement as a shadow disarms and knocks out the assailant before her knees even hit the ground. Before she can reach out to thank whatever that was, it disappears just as fast. 

Fascinated, Stephanie hopes to see her savior again. 

….

Stephanie is stalking her father from a distance when she sees the shadow again. The shadow freezes as it notices her looking.  They're facing each other across her father's operation. Stephanie steps forward, not knowing what to do, but wanting to speak to them.

 The shadow quickly retreats until she can no longer see it anymore.  Stephanie curses but knows that she can't draw any attention to herself at the moment.  

She focuses back on Cluemaster, noticing how he orders his “employees” around.  Stephanie's no stranger to being scolded by him and she would pity the men if they weren't also horrible people. 

Stephanie has been targeting his operations here and there the past week, trying to weaken his forces and spoil his plans. Today is the day she finally faces the man himself. 

She grits her teeth as the man she shares her eyes with closes up a crate of drugs to be distributed on the streets and ruin lives. She doesn’t get it. Arthur Brown should have seen the effects alcohol has on his wife and not want that for anyone else, but instead here he is, feeding into the problem. 

Anger burns through her as she levers herself onto the edge of the roof she’s on. Moonlight reflects on her hood, casting a bluish glow on the purple shade. Stephanie feels powerful on these rooftops. Maybe she’ll continue fighting for justice after she stops her dad, which she hadn’t originally intended. 

Taking a steadying breath, Stephanie jumps, more calm and experienced. Her hood flies off her head as her cape billows about. She uses her grappler to swing into the closest goon, knocking him off his feet, and charges at Cluemaster. 

Unfortunately, he is a more experienced fighter and is able to quickly counteract her attack. Stephanie hits the floor hard and the wind is knocked out of her. She looks up and faces down the barrel of her father’s gun, eyes narrowed in defiance. 

If she is going to die today, he wants her dad to live with the fact that he was the one that killed her. She wants him to be reminded every day that he chose a life of crime over his family, his child. 

She lets out a cry of frustration and fear as he pulls back the safety. All he does is smirk, and in that moment, Stephanie knows that he will never be her dad again. He’s dead to her as much as she is about to be. 

When suddenly she isn’t.

Stephanie doesn’t even see the gun move. One moment the barrel is aimed at her forehead, and the next, it’s crumpled in the corner of the room. Chaos erupts around her as her shadowy protector rips through the gathered crowd. In what feels like a second, the only people standing are Cluemaster and the shadow, which is actually starting to look human the closer they get to them. In fact, they look like a child.

They brandish a knife and aim at Cluemaster’s neck. 

“Stop!” Stephanie yells, scrambling to her feet. She wraps her hands around the shadow now person’s wrist. “Let’s let the cops get him,” she says, jerking her chin at Cluemaster, “It won’t be justice if he just dies.”

The person quirks their head to the side, seemingly not understanding. Stephanie sighs. Maybe they don’t understand English. She turns to where Cluemaster is, and notices that he’s disappeared. Great . She’s going to have to find him again. 

She turns back around and studies the person in her grasp. Upon closer inspection, Stephanie realizes it's a teenage girl. Her grimy straight black hair falls into her dirty face, obscuring it, but Stephanie can still make out the pale, sunken features of someone who has gone hungry (not just physically). Her dark, almond-shaped eyes stare into Stephanie’s soul. 

Gently Stephanie leads her out of the warehouse. They need to leave before the cops come. “Let’s get some food into you,” she tells the girl kindly. This girl has saved Stephanie’s life twice . She has a lot to thank her for. 

….

It has been a couple weeks since Stephanie had finally been able to interact with her savior, and she has connected with her more than anyone else. When someone doesn’t speak, you learn their body language to read them. Their bodies are now attuned to one another and they can move as one. 

When Stephanie had first asked for her name, the girl had looked confused. Worried that the girl hadn’t been given a name, Stephanie had pointed at herself and enuciated, “Ste-phan-ie.”

She had then pointed at the girl questioningly. “St-efff,” the girl had mumbled. 

“Yes, that’s me!” Stephanie had exclaimed brightly. The girl beamed at her in response and it was the most beautiful smile Stephanie had seen. It utterly transformed her face. 

“What’s yours?” she asked. The girl looked like she was thinking deeply. Eventually, she had slurred out, “C-sss”

“Cass?” Stephanie clarified. The girl perked up and nodded. Stephanie had smiled in response. She just knew that Cass was going to be her friend. 

And she was right. 

Cass was obviously from a terrible situation. She had no idea how the world works, and couldn’t speak any language. Believe her, Stephanie had tried everything. She’s started to teach Cass sign language, but most of their communication is through gestures. Cass seems to be very adept at reading Stephanie's intentions and emotions.  

Stephanie has been teaching Cass a lot of things in general. With Mom drunk and passed out most of the time, Stephanie has been able to sneak Cass into her room. She’s shown Cass a lot of how everyday people live their lives, and Cass has actually been able to blend in relatively well.

It’s still obvious that she’s not completely adjusted yet. She still has weird quirks that may never go away, but to Stephanie, that’s just what makes her Cass, and she wouldn’t have her any other way. 

She could do without the training to kill though. She’s made it very clear that killing is not okay, and Cass seems to understand, but muscle memory seems to kick in too often for Stephanie’s comfort. They’re working on it, and Stephanie has started to get a clear picture of what Cass’ life used to look like. Assassin training and no social skills…yeah that speaks volumes. 

Taking care of a strange teenager has delayed Stephanie’s efforts to capture Cluemaster, so she is still trying to find his many operations. This is how she finds herself surveilling from a rooftop (man she really is starting to love those) with Cass by her side. 

He’s once again ordering his men around, Stephanie notes, as she looks through her binoculars. She’s so focused on her father, that she almost misses Cass’ movement until she hears a deep grunt behind her. 

Startled, Stephanie whirls around already on guard against the unfamiliar person that had approached them. She freezes, however, when she recognizes them. 

Towering over her, is the Dark Knight, Batman, a dark figure cast in the moonlight and face shrouded in darkness. Stephanie is awestruck and is only broken out of it when Cass starts to scuffle with the vigilante. 

“Cass!” she calls out. Cass turns to her in question, still in a defensive position. Stephanie gently pulls her to her side and signs, Safe. Cass drops her stance, but still glares at Batman suspiciously. 

“What are you two doing up here?” Batman asks gruffly, “It’s dangerous.”

Stephanie scoffs. “It’s okay, we know how to protect ourselves. We’re just fighting criminals like you ,” she says pointedly. 

Batman takes a moment to study them, and Stephanie tries not to shift uncomfortably. “You both look too young to be adults…where are you parents?” he responds. 

Stephanie jerks her thumb where Cluemaster is currently standing. “My dad’s right over there. Stephanie Brown at your service,” she says wryly, “You still think my parents are gonna be taking care of me? I’m going to spoil Cluemaster’s plans because my dad puts him above his family.” Stephanie sneers down at the man who’s supposed to be her role model. 

Batman sighs, as if he almost understands . “My son is the same,” he says tiredly with a tinge of fondness, “He tried to go after his parents’ attacker, but like we told him, please leave it up to the adults to fight for justice.”

Stephanie’s jaw drops. There are so many things for her to unpack with that information. First of all, Batman has a son ??? Second of all, why is he telling her this? Wouldn’t it compromise his identity? Third of all…no Steph is still stuck on Batman having a kid . 

“What?” Stephanie gasps. Batman rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Stephanie is too stunned to react. “I promise you justice for Cluemaster,” he says firmly, cowl staring straight into her soul and body language completely sincere, “but please make sure that your other guardian knows you’re safe. You…do have another guardian right?”

Batman seems to be having flashbacks to when someone else he knew didn’t have any guardians taking care of them. “Yes,” Stephanie answers, and she can see him slump in relief. He tenses up again when she continues, “But Mom’s always drunk off her ass and doesn’t really care what I do.”

Batman looks down, seeming to be thinking deeply. “You remind me of my sons,” he confides in her. Stephanie startles at the honesty. “Not that I’m not curious, but why are you telling me this, sir?” she asks. He has multiple sons????

“I want you to trust that I want to help you,” Batman replies.

“I already trust you,” Stephanie responds truthfully, “I am doing this because you are my role model. I admire you a lot.” She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. 

Cass places her hand on Stephanie’s other shoulder, obviously sensing her conflicting feelings. Batman flinches minutely as if he had forgotten Cass was there. She’s good at hiding her presence and Stephanie has seen her scare criminals many times, much to her amusement. 

“Who is this?” Batman asks curiously. “This is Cass,” Stephanie introduces, “I found her when we were fighting my dad together. I don’t think she has a family…and she can’t talk. She also may or may not have been groomed to kill people? If you try to arrest her I’ll fight you, because she was obviously forced to, and she is trying to be better.” 

Stephanie doesn’t know why she is saying all this, but Batman has trusted her with information on his identity, his family , she can at least return a little bit of the favor (though she does feel guilty about possibly getting Cass in trouble). Plus she is ready to throw hands if anyone tries to hurt Cass. 

“I won’t hurt her,” Batman says reassuringly, “I believe in second chances for everyone, and a child who was forced to kill is someone I want to help, not hurt.” Cass, who focuses more on body language than speech, seems to find some comfort in Batman’s demeanor and seems to relax her suspicion, which makes Stephanie believe him.  

“I do need to find a safe place for the both of you. Your mother seems to need help, and I have a friend that runs a free rehab center. If you are willing to drop her off there, you and Cass can stay with me and my family. You can go live with your mom again once she is recovered, or all of you can stay with me indefinitely. It’s really up to you, but I have the space.” Batman offers. 

Stephanie analyzes him. Why is he being so generous to random teenagers? He did say that she reminds him of his kids, but maybe that was in a creepy way. “Why are you willing to do so much for us?” Stephanie demands. 

“That’s what I do,” he explains, “and I feel a connection to you. My family teases that I have a habit of collecting family, but I really can’t help wanting to support people in need. I promise I have no bad intentions and that you will be free to leave at any time if you have a safe place to go. I’ll even investigate Cluemaster for you if it keeps you from fighting criminals when you should be going to school and all the normal kid stuff. The one condition is you can’t come back out here until you’re an adult, and when you are an adult, you need to be properly trained.”

Stephanie muses over his offer. It seems too good to be true. She and Cass are effectively being kidnapped off the street by a bat furry to preserve their safety. This is the weirdest encounter she has had in Gotham and that’s saying a lot. 

She looks at Cass in guidance, who stares back at her in clear deference to whatever she decides. 

She turns back to eye Batman. “You’ll help my mom get sober?” she asks. 

“Yes.”

“You’ll put my asshole father in jail?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll take care of Cass?”

“Yes, and you.”

“You’ll train me?” she asks this more eagerly.

“Hn. Fine.”

“I’m going to need something on you, as an assurance for our wellbeing, but I’m willing to try,” Stephanie determines. “If you don’t keep those promises, I’m coming back out here to stop my dad,” she threatens. 

“I will,” Batman assures them. “Follow me, I’ll show you who I am.”

….

Stephanie is glued to the window of the Batmobile, trying to figure out where they are going. She scrutinizes the scenery as it gets more and more neat and suburban. She raises an eyebrow when they pass a sign that declares, “Welcome to Bristol.”

I guess you need to be rich to be able to afford to be Batman,” Stephanie muses. Batman just grunts in reply.

Cass is looking eagerly outside, seemingly fascinated with everything. Her dark eyes are wide, taking everything in with her perceptive gaze. When the Batmobile is let into a hidden entrance in a cave, Stephanie rolls her eyes at how dramatic it is for his headquarters to be in a freaking cave. 

When they enter the main room, Stephanie gapes at the cavernous chamber with a high ceiling and bats flying around. There’s even a T-Rex statue and giant penny. Man, rich people are weird. 

Stephanie and Cass make their way out of the car, and study Batman who, nonchalantly as ever, removes his cowl as if it was any other day and not the flipping of Stephanie’s entire worldview. 

“WHAT THE F- BRUCE WAYNE?!”

Cass startles at the yell, but Batman, Bruce Wayne , just smirks. 

“Like I said, there’s plenty of space for you to stay with me,” he teases. 

Stephanie spends the time it takes to change into civilian clothing, grappling with the thought of Gotham’s favorite idiot actually being the World’s Greatest Detective. 

She meets Cass and Bruce at the cave’s entrance, taken even more aback when she sees the man in casual clothing. Cass looks amused at Stephanie’s shock, and Stephanie, feeling embarrassed, makes a note to get back at her at a later date. 

“Ready to meet the family?” Bruce asks calmly, ushering them into an ornate study. A grandfather clock slots back into the doorway, and suddenly, it’s like the Batcave doesn’t exist. 

Stephanie is weirdly nervous to meet these people. Usually she’s a social butterfly, but Bruce Wayne’s family is famous in Gotham. The world-renowned acrobats, tragically injured, the strays from Crime Alley, and Wayne’s genius neighbor boy whose parents were never in the country. 

She starts to hear chatter get louder as they move towards some large double doors. Cass flanks her back, obviously more anxious than she lets on. Stephanie braces herself, willing to be Cass’ shield. 

When Bruce pushes the doors open, the conversations die down and Stephanie finds herself under the scrutiny of seven intelligent pairs of eyes. The boys are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of limbs. They look up at the new guests curiously while their parents smile at them, a ting of confusion in all their faces. 

“Master Bruce. I wasn’t informed that you would have guests. May you please introduce us to these young ladies?” an old gentleman speaks up from a table, tea set in front of him. 

“This is Stephanie Brown, and uh, Cass,” Bruce introduces, “Girls, this is John, Mary, Catherine, Alfred, Dick, Jason, and Tim.” He points to them as he goes down the list of names. He then looks questioningly at Stephanie, obviously asking for permission to divulge how they got here. She nods for him to go ahead. 

“I ran into these two during my night job,” he informs them. The response is perfect. They erupt in questions about whether they know about his identity and why he told them.

“Settle down!” Bruce booms, “I told them because they are going to be living with us indefinitely and before you guys complain, yes this is my adoption habit, no you can’t make me change my mind.”

Jason and Dick start to cackle while the rest of the adults look exasperated. “At this rate you’re actually going to use up all the rooms in the manor,” Tim jokes. 

“Maybe,” Bruce laughs. “Stephanie’s dad is currently working as Cluemaster. I ran into them trying to take him down. I’ve promised them justice and comfort in return from not going out and putting themselves in danger,” he starts to explain. Dick looks at them in understanding and respect. The other two boys look a bit jealous that they were out fighting criminals like their dad.

Bruce continues, “They must stay with us because Stephanie’s mom is currently struggling with alcoholism. Catherine, I was hoping to refer her to your center.” 

Catherine nods easily. “I’ll do you one better,” she turns to Stephanie, “Does your mom have a job?”

“She used to be a nurse, but I think she recently lost her job,” Stephanie replies.

“Well, if she needs a new one, I am hiring more nurses for my rehab center. Once she is done with treatment, a position is hers if she has good references,” Catherine offers. 

Stephanie’s eyes widen in appreciation. “That would be awesome,” she gasps, “Mom needs that so much. I’m entrusting her to your care.” Catherine gives her a reassuring smile.

“What about Cass?” Dick asks curiously. They all turn to the mysterious teenager. “I don’t know much about her. All I know is that she doesn’t have a family and that she can’t speak, either developmentally or because she was never taught to. I’ve been teaching her some sign though,” Stephanie says. 

At this information, Tim starts signing to Cass who lights up. Everyone else looks interested to know where Cass came from, even sharing some of Stephanie’s anger at her obvious abuse. 

For the rest of the night, Cass and Stephanie are swept up in Wayne Manor’s atmosphere. Stephanie feels like she is in a Hallmark movie with the traditional big, happy family. It’s not something she thought she wanted, but as she and Cass start to integrate with them, she finds that she doesn’t mind. In fact, she finds it both surreal and exciting!

Stephanie doesn’t remember the last time she was welcomed this warmly. Maybe when she was a kid and her parents were happier to take care of her?

She and Cass sit side by side as the others share stories back and forth. Stephanie even adds her own into the mix. Cass is quiet, but she looks very content to listen to the chatter around her. 

At first Stephanie was wary, living in a stranger’s house, but these people don’t feel like strangers at all. You would think she couldn’t find anything to relate to with such rich people, but they are all quite down to earth. Stephanie guesses most come from modest backgrounds, but even Tim and Bruce are kind and respectful. 

Stephanie’s cheeks are hurting from many moments of laughter when Mary shares a look with Catherine before joking, “It was only a matter of time for some girls to join the family.”

Chapter Text

It feels weird to not have to constantly be alert. The quiet that had once felt ominous now feels like lazy mornings, peaceful walks, a cozy hiding place.

She’s explored every inch of her new home, finding every nook and cranny. It’s as much a search for comfort in a new place as an adventure. She feels simultaneously like those explorers Jason had read to her about and like a cat wanting to curl up in a small hidden space.

Over time, this large, winding manor has become more than a series of hallways, rooms, and pathways to examine. It has become hers like nothing ever had before. 

Cassandra Cain never had anything, not even her own voice or autonomy. She was a soldier, a puppet for the adults around her to manipulate. She stayed silent, always observing. The only thing in the world she ever understood was people. Not their language or their evils, but the way they held themselves, the way they felt. Terrified. Angry. Sad. Liar.

Cassandra Cain was forced to feel the tacky warmth of blood before she ever felt the warmth of the sun or blankets straight out of the laundry. She didn’t know who she was, she only knew pain and the disappointed eyes of her master. Sixteen years, only kept track of by the scarred tally marks on her wrist sliced by her master as a reminder to keep improving, in a hellhole that was all she’d ever known. 

Cassandra Cain is dead. The last murder she would ever commit.

If Cassandra Cain was meant for the shadows, Cass (Grayson Todd) Wayne is meant for the light.

….

Steph is her best friend. It’s sometimes hard to grasp that she has a best friend like most normal teenage girls do. Who knew normal could be so exciting?

Though Steph is thirteen, the two girls never had trouble relating to one another. The Narrows have made Steph wise beyond her years, and Cass has a lot to catch up on. Cass knows that even if she didn’t have her ability to read people, she would never struggle to understand Steph. 

They recognize the darkness in each other, but strive to give each other their light. At first glance the two may look like yin and yang. Steph with her bright eyes and hair, radiating happiness and mischief, a social butterfly in her own right. Cass with her dark gaze and raven hair, silent and distant. 

But like the yin and yang, they complete each other.

Steph has been living with them for the past few months, and it has been amazing. Cass worries that the time, however, is coming to an end. Crystal Brown is being released from Catherine-Mom’s rehab center, and Steph might have to move out. 

Cass doesn’t know how to feel about it. She’s visited Crystal with Steph over the months, and the woman has gotten a lot better. Her eyes are still haunted, but a purpose has been restored. She has passed all her tests, and Mom believes she’s ready to start a position as a nurse in training. 

Cass had resented the woman at first for leaving Steph, Cass’ anchor, alone and floundering. But Steph has confided in her about how alcohol changed Crystal from the loving mother she had used to be. Presently, Cass can see flashes of that mother in the now sober Crystal from the way she painstakingly braids Steph’s hair or bakes her sweets for visiting days.  

Cass is just as good at reading people now as she’s always been, and the love for her daughter is written in every line of Crystal’s body.

Cass occasionally still can’t believe she has that parental love for herself as well. Adjusting to Wayne Manor was hard at first. She was surrounded by so many strangers with Steph being the only familiar face, but their bodies radiated welcome, kind, affection.

Eventually Cass was able to relax and trust them. 

Tim helped Steph teach her how to communicate through sign language until she became almost fluent. 

Jason read to her to help her fall asleep. 

Dick introduced her to ballet, which made her feel alive more than anything else. 

Daj encouraged her to join a ballet troupe, and the whole family is at every performance, cheering her on.

Tati attended her parent-teacher conferences to make sure she got the accommodations she needed.

Alfred had her sample recipes until she could pick her favorites. 

And Dad…Dad allowed her to work out her anger and energy through sparring. He took her training and turned it into a form of fun and catharsis.

In their own ways, they all took care of her. 

Cass is where she is now because of them. She is a normal, special girl with a large, loving family. 

She wouldn’t change it for the world. So, as she anxiously observes Steph pick her mother up from Mom’s center, she signs, Where are we going?

Steph just smiles, “Home.”

….

Steph’s father, Cluemaster, the mean man Cass had fought many months ago. He is still on the loose. 

No matter how much Batman intends on keeping his promise, his caseload has always been too overrun to focus on Cluemaster’s schemes. Compared to Two Face bombing Gotham Harbor or Poison Ivy ensnaring the entirety of downtown in thornfilled vines, Cluemaster’s drug trade inevitably took a back seat. 

Cass doesn’t blame him, but she watches as Steph gets more and more restless as she skims news on the latest of Cluemaster’s crimes. Cass clenches her jaw when she once again observes Steph staring blankly at a news article on her phone. Steph has done so much for her, the least Cass can do is give her this closure.

Cass finds Dad in the Batcave, her footsteps silent as her body drifts down the stairs to hover by his chair. He makes an aborted movement to his utility belt when he notices her presence, but quickly sighs when he realizes who it is. 

Everyone has gotten used to Cass appearing without warning, and Cass should be concerned that her effectiveness is wearing thin, but she still delights in how she can still catch all of them off guard even when they expect her.

“What’s going on sweetheart? I can’t spar right now, I’m working on a case,” Dad tells her tiredly.

Cass moves his chair to face her, and once she has his full attention, signs, The case you should be working on is the Cluemaster one. You promised. She emphasizes the last bit to really drive her point home. 

Dad’s face creases in guilt. “I’m sorry, Cass, I’ve just been so caught up…”

I understand, but it’s really getting to Steph, Cass replies, Let me help you.

“I don’t know about that, sweetheart. I know you can fight well, but you’re a kid, and I don’t want any of you out there until you’re at least an adult,” Dad explains.

I know, but I can help from here. Like Alfred, Barbara, and Timmy , Cass insists. If you don’t agree, I’ll just go after him on my own, she threatens. Dad sighs warily. “Okay, just for this case,” he agrees sternly.

Cass nods and smiles. Dad squints at her, and she’s reminded how people say her smile is really bright. She smiles harder at the thought and Dad looks away with a small smile of his own.

They spend the rest of the night going over what evidence they currently have, and start to brainstorm strategies to take Cluemaster down. Cass is lucky it’s the weekend or she would be too tired to pay attention in school. She’s used to staying up for days, but school seems to take up more energy than her training (that or she’s growing blessedly soft). 

By the time Dad sends her to bed, they have a solid plan for the following night. When it finally arrives, Cass is alert in front of the Batcomputer as Tim shows her how to track Batman’s movements. 

He’s just parked the Batmobile in an alleyway near Cluemaster’s traced location, and is sneaking over to his hideout. It’s an old dilapidated townhouse that blends in with most of that part of Gotham. Overall a good hideout…if Batman isn’t hunting you down that is.

Honestly for the amount of stress this has caused Steph, Cluemaster gets captured pretty easily. Cass is almost mad that this could have been resolved months ago. She instead focuses on the feeling of triumph. She can’t wait to break the news to Steph, and she will be the one to do it. She’s fought for worse. Her siblings are no match for her.

….

It’s an innocuous enough comment. Cass hasn’t really talked about much of her past unless it’s to the therapist Tati had arranged for her. She wants to shield her joyful present from the horror of her past, so details really only come out when Cass is comfortable or tired enough to not stop the words from flowing out of her mouth (or hands). 

In this case, Cass is distracted with decorating her newest tutu for her next rehearsal, listening to the background white noise of her family talking. She’s only half paying attention, so when Tim loudly proclaims that Jason was an “imbecile for attempting to skateboard on the roof,” Cass snorts and mumbles back, “Sound like little demon.”

There’s a pause as everyone looks at her questioningly. “Who’s little demon?” Dick questions.

Cass looks up and flushes at all the eyes on her. She debates with herself on what to reveal. She knows that talking about the little demon will most likely ruin the mood.

Despite being a cute kid, Cass had only ever met the little demon when her mas-sperm donor had ordered her to fight with him. The Demon’s Head and her sperm donor would tower over the two children and watch as they drew each other’s blood.

Never once had the five-year-old ever been a match for her, no matter his training. And he shouldn’t have been expected to. Cass would see his expression as they fought, contorted in anger, but his body betrayed his fear. 

When he inevitably lost, he took his punishment like he was staring down a bear, face impassive. But his trembling lip gave him away to someone like Cass who was trained to notice “weaknesses” like that. She never acknowledged it, too busy trying not to cry herself. 

She had always considered pretending to fail, but she knew that it wouldn’t be convincing enough and the both of them would be punished even worse. It was as if they knew the little demon would fail, and used it as an excuse to punish him. 

She thinks back to the little demon often. He should be six now. Maybe they found another person for him to fight against since she left. She remembers his cousin they always used to pit him against. Such young children should not have to be forced into such a strong rivalry to survive. She hadn’t understood that back then, but she can now put a name to that sick feeling in her stomach every time they visited that prison-like palace. 

Realizing that her family is still waiting for her answer, Cass snaps out of her flashbacks before they can get worried. Little Demon is heir to the Demon Head , she explains. 

“Ra’s al Ghul??” Tim questions. Although most of the room looks confused, Dad and Alfred seem to understand what Tim is talking about. Cass figures this is more of Batman’s area so it’s understandable that those who are uninvolved are clueless. 

To explain who she is talking about to the rest of the group, she signs, He is leader of a cult of assassin ninjas.  

There are varying degrees of reaction. Daj seems to think she’s joking, but Dick and Jason seem both bamboozled and intrigued. Upon seeing her serious face, however, everyone seems to believe her, accepting that an organization of assassin ninjas exists. They live in Gotham, so nothing is ever really out of the realm of possibility for them. 

“How did he get an heir?” Dad interrogates, sounding more Batman than Bruce at the moment. 

Talia’s son, six-years-old, Cass informs them, we had to fight each other sometimes.

Their faces fall at that, and Cass almost regrets telling them even if she had expected the reaction. She shifts uncomfortably, and Dick seems to pick up on it, trying to take the focus off of her by announcing, “We can’t leave a kid in an assassin cult!”

“Probably not a good idea,” Jason agrees, with the rest of the parents nodding along. Steph, who had been surprisingly quiet, quickly breaks her streak and exclaims, “Petition to break into a cult and kidnap a mini Tim!” Tim makes a face at that, but everyone raises a hand in agreement. 

Because they aren’t the ones with the resources to attack an assassin base, they all look in tandem to Dad who has taken on a thoughtful expression. “I’ll call a meeting with the Justice League, and we’ll figure something out,” he determines.

 The resounding cheer that starts up seems to echo through the manor. Time to rescue a little demon.

Chapter Text

The imbecilic nanny is currently being annoying. Damian does not need to be babied, but the insufferable hag will not stop nagging. He is almost tempted to kill her, but Mother would disapprove. 

He’s bandaged up from the training session last night, and the nanny won’t stop trying to do things for him. He’s not weak . He can handle these flesh wounds. 

“ Stop it! ” he snaps, slapping her hand-that is once again trying to adjust his dressings-away. She huffs and finally goes away, leaving Damian to his thoughts. It is rare for Damian to be afforded these moments of peace, but last night’s training was particularly grueling, so Mother had negotiated with Grandfather to let him have the day off to reflect on his failures.

And reflect he does.

He clenches his jaw at the reminders of how no matter how much he trains, he can never live up to Mother and Grandfather's expectations. He’s too soft like they say. He hesitates too much.

He can’t help it though. No matter how much he tries to shut off his feelings and remain numb, he can’t help but to avoid taking a life. For a year now, he has been encouraged to kill, and yet he still hasn’t been able to. Despite the many punishments and disapproval, Damian always gives into their pleading and he hates it.

Maybe if he kills someone, he can turn that conscience off and it will come easier to him.

Damian mulls over that thought. He is rapidly running out of options, and he knows one day his hand will be forced. Maybe it will be better to get it out of the way in a less pressurized environment.

He looks in the direction the nanny went, and slowly slides off his bed, trying not to wince in pain. He grabs his katana from under his pillow and stealthily pads to the room’s exit. He peeks through the doorway and doesn’t see anyone in either direction. 

As he’s advancing down the hallway towards the nanny’s room, a sudden explosion shakes the ground beneath him. Tensing in preparation for an attack, Damian dashes toward where the sound came from. He comes across many of their men as they all coalesce in the destroyed area. 

Rubble piles litter the ground as the harsh desert sunlight filters through cracks. Damian stands confused as do the rest of the assassins. There is no sign of any attackers and the only evidence of the explosion is the debris. 

Before Damian can do anything further, he is grabbed by lithe, but strong arms and whisked into blistering heat. Damian hadn’t even been able to process the speed with which he was taken, but once he realises that he has been captured by the enemy, he fights tooth and nail to get free.

“ Unhand me you heathen! ” he exclaims. Trying to mask his terror with anger. The man that had captured him was not human, and Damian does not know what his intentions with the Demon’s Heir could be. Someone who could so easily attack the League of Assassins should not be reckoned with. 

“Calm down, kid-Ouch!” the man says.

“Do not call me a kid!” Damian demands, switching to English and twisting around to see his imprisoner. He pauses when he sees a gaudy red mask affixed with ridiculous lightning bolts. “How can a caricature such as yourself think he can defeat the Demon’s Head?” he questions incredulously. 

The man looks confused, as if he didn’t understand the insult directed at him, and Damian wouldn’t be surprised if the buffoon had no idea.

Damian’s attention is then captured by the group gathered behind the idiot. They’re tall. That’s the first thing he notes. At six, most people are taller than him, especially in the league where there aren’t any children.

Damian refuses to think about the girl Grandfather said had died. She was the closest thing he had to a friend and all they could do was injure each other bloody. Mara hates him, and he can never see himself getting along with her after all the bitterness and jealousy they have between them. Now he’s utterly alone, and he tries to ignore that aching part of himself. Emotions are not allowed.

The group of attackers, however, seem almost larger than life as Damian assesses them, almost otherworldly. Sun shines at their backs, giving them a halo-like glow. Damian’s eyes catch on the figure in the forefront, the one the others fall behind. He exudes a presence that causes even the most powerful to respect him. Damian stares into the terrifying cowl and can only dredge up a feeling of awe.

“Beloved,” Damian hears his mother’s voice. He jerks his head around just in time to see her figure separate the gathered crowd like a parting tide. Damian tries not to show his desperation when their eyes cross, and her gaze swiftly moves on to the imposing figure Damian had unwillingly admired earlier.

“Talia,” the Bat growls. Damian had heard stories of the Bat. How he had trained in the league and how Grandfather had respected him enough to name him Detective. How he had left them for his filthy, crime-ridden city. 

Mother had always called him ‘Beloved’ with a wistful tone to her voice, and Damian can hear it now, even with her child in his clutches.

“That child told you about him, didn’t she?” Mother sighs. “I hadn’t thought the girl could communicate, let alone know about our son. That’s unfortunate.”

Damian sucks in a harsh breath, and he can see the other attackers are caught off guard as well. Mother has to be bluffing in that sly, manipulative way she has about her…right?

“What are you talking about?” the Bat demands.

A flicker of surprise crosses Mother’s face, but she quickly masks it. Unfortunately, the intruders aren’t as imperceptive as the league’s lackeys, and they seem to notice the break in her composure. 

“Tell me, Talia,” the Bat urges gruffly.

“You don’t know,” Mother observes, “Why are you here for Damian then?”

“Damian…” the Bat huffs under his breath. Surprisingly, the way he says Damian’s name carries none of the aggression usually in his tone. It even sounds the slightest bit gentle. 

“Beloved, why are you here? What did the girl tell you?” Mother demands seriously. She seems tense, like whatever the Bat says will determine if lives will be lost at her hands. 

“ Cass just told me there was a boy with you who she had to fight. Talia, you know this isn’t a place for a child, especially one so young. He shouldn’t have to go through the torture you call training,” the Bat asserts, voice going tight with barely hidden anger.

“Tt. I am not a child!” Damian declares, finally finding his voice. He fights the instinct to shrink back when multiple sets of powerful eyes come to rest on him again. Damian tilts his chin up in defiance, eyes burning with held back tears. He can’t afford to cry. He isn’t recovered enough from last night to handle the punishment if he does.

“Damian,” Mother chides, and Damian presses his lips together tightly. She is silently commanding him to let her handle it, so he goes still and dips his head in acknowledgement.

“The fact that he doesn’t think he is a child is telling enough, Talia,” the Bat continues, “I can’t see everything from here, but he looks badly injured as well.” Damian resists the urge to deny the signs of weakness. It was just training, and the only way to avoid injury is to get better.

“It’s bad, B,” a muscular man in red and blue pajamas says gravely, looking at Damian in concern. It’s almost as if he can see through Damian, and the boy shudders at the violation.

“You aren’t equipped to take care of a child, Talia. Whether what you say about him being our son is true or not, Damian can’t stay with you,” the Bat growls.

“He is our son, Beloved. Would I ever lie to you?” Mother purrs, “However, I’m afraid that Father and I have great things planned for Damian. You weren’t supposed to find out about him until later.”

She gets in position to strike, the rest of the assassins falling into place behind her. The imbecile currently holding Damian speeds them over to a safe place as the two sides clash. Damian refrains from head-butting him for the whiplash he had to experience. He’s beginning to feel weak from his injuries, the adrenaline from the attack is wearing off.

“I got you, kid,” the man soothes, and Damian grumbles in protest, too tired to truly fight him. He adjusts Damian into a more comfortable position, and Damian fights the sleep pulling at his eyes.

Through blurred vision, he watches the Bat -Father?- engage in combat with Mother, their moves almost like a dance. The confirmation of his paternity has lit a fire under the intimidating man, and his strikes are ferocious, radiating protectiveness and vengeance. 

Damian can’t help admiring the man. This is who his mother and grandfather believed was worthy of siring the Demon’s heir. Damian can’t find any fault in their decision. The armored body is both strong and quick, but there is a kindness as well. While Mother strikes to kill, Father strikes to save.

Is he where Damian gets his softness from? If so, it doesn’t quite seem like a bad thing anymore. Father is proof you can be both strong and caring.

When most of the assassins are subdued, no match for the strength of Father’s allies, Mother continues to strike out, moves edging on desperation. Grandfather is away, and if she fails, Damian will be taken. Leaning onto the warm shoulder of lightning man, Damian finds he doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would. If he can learn from Father and experience more of this foreign affection, then maybe he can become both powerful and happy.

When Father disarms and subdues Mother, Damian holds his breath. Despite the training and the pain, Damian still loves his mother, and although Father can rightfully slay her, Damian fervently wishes he won’t.

“Let us leave with him, Talia, and don’t come after us,” Father demands. 

“You’ll have to kill me first,” Mother spits, “But you don’t kill, do you? You and your pathetic code.”

“I still have ways to protect him from you,” Father grunts back. Before they can say anything else, a ringing sound interrupts them. 

Damian perks up and looks interestedly down at the flashing light in Father’s belt. Father sighs, and hands Mother off to the superhuman pajama man. Pressing a button on the device he pulls out, a loud, childish voice rings out.

“Dad! How’s it going? Did you get the little demon?”

Damian scowls at the moniker, but before he can respond and question who dares call Father their dad, another voice speaks up, this time female, and decidedly more adult.

“Sorry, B, Dick got ahold of the communicator. Are you done with the mission?”

Father sighs again and replies, “I am currently on the mission. I will update you later.”

“Awww,” the obnoxious voice replies, “but I wanna see him.” Another ringing sound resounds in the now quiet area as people are either invested in the occurring conversation or unconscious.

When Father pinches his nose and presses another button, a screen pops up, displaying a teenaged face pressed against the camera. “Is that him??” the teenager, who is actually older than his tone suggests, exclaims, bright blue eyes and dimples flashing at Damian.

“Yes, Dick. Now that you have seen him, can I please call you after I have gotten him on the plane? He’s injured,” Father says. 

Damian frowns, wanting to reassure Father that he will not be a burden and that he has no need for medical attention, but his mouth feels cotton-like with exhaustion. 

Dick - what an unseemly name - frowns as well at the news. “What? B, have you got the bad guys covered?”

A woman who immensely resembles Dick pops her head in to interject. “Let me talk to the child’s parents. That’s unacceptable.”

Father tilts the camera to turn towards where the pajama man is detaining Mother, looking fed up.

“So these are the charity cases my Beloved has taken in,” Mother sneers. 

“We’re his family ,” the woman affirms sternly, “You know it would be easier on everyone if you let B take your son. You could even have supervised visits. Where is his father? I want to talk to him as well.”

Father stiffens as Mother smirks smugly. “Apparently, I’m his father,” Father informs them, “We will have to confirm, but it doesn’t seem like she is lying.”

The two have identical expressions of disbelief and glee. Dick bursts into giggles as his mother smiles widely. “Well, there’s even more reason for the boy to stay with us,” the woman says.

A door closes in the distance, and Damian can hear a male voice ask, “What is going on?” 

“The kid B is rescuing is his biological son!” Dick gasps out, still laughing. An older man that also resembles Dick, presumably his father, ducks into the view of the camera, looking amused. “Well at least we won’t have to worry about adoption this time,” he jokes. 

Mother observes them assessingly, and then turns to inspect Damian. Damian looks back at her wide-eyed. “Alright. Damian, you’ll now train with your Father. I’ll be checking in occasionally to see how it has progressed,” Mother decides. 

“Yes, Mother,” Damian agrees, nodding.

Dick loudly cheers, before it is cut off with Father hanging up. Warm, comfortable man hefts Damian up into his arms and leads them out of the base. Damian looks back as they leave the only home he has ever known and can only feel relief, much to his guilt. 

The group stops at an open area where the Amazonian reveals an invisible plane. Damian gapes as they board. He is then pulled into Father’s lap, whose strong arms hold him securely, but gently, mindful of his injuries. 

Before Damian can say anything, he is falling asleep to jerks from the plane taking flight.

….

When Damian wakes up in a soft bed, he crinkles his eyes at the bright, white light. The league had always used lanterns or lamps for lighting, so the difference from the warm, low light is jarring. 

Shifting, he notices a presence by his bedside. Jerking his eyes open, he sees a teenager with curly hair sitting in a chair and reading. 

“Who are you?” he croaks. The teenager’s head snaps up, and he grins. “Hey baby bat, I’m Jason, your coolest older brother.” Damian narrows his eyes in thought. He’s beginning to come to the realization that he is not Father’s only child, and that he has older siblings. Dick is probably another one, and who knows who else there is.

Inspecting Jason, Damian notes the friendly, but mischievous smirk and the kind, intelligent eyes. He already seems more tolerable than Dick. At least he knows how to be quiet. 

Damian wrinkles his nose at the nickname, but knows it is useless for him to try and keep Jason from saying it. During the times he had read about siblings, he learned that it is customary to tease one another. He wishes he could have had that with Mara, but alas, he will have to settle for his father’s other children. 

Jason chuckles and ruffles his hair affectionately. Damian doesn’t have it in himself to even pretend he doesn’t like it. Looking around, it seems he is in a medical area. “Where am I?” he questions.

“We’re in the medbay. We had gramps look over your wounds to make sure they weren’t infected,” Jason explains.

“We have another grandfather?” Damian asks, feeling a pang of worry.

“Basically. He’s technically the butler, but he raised Dad so we call him ‘gramps’ occasionally. He prefers Alfred most of the time though,” Jason clarifies.

“Hm,” Damian says in acknowledgement. His eyes are starting to droop again, but before they can fully close, he hears a familiar voice shout, “Dami’s awake!” 

A body crashes into his bed, and Damian is hauled into a tight hug. Despite the numerous near death experiences Damian has had while training in the league, the six-year-old has never felt so close to death than at this moment. His ribs are crushed, robbing him of his breath. Yet, Damian has also never felt so loved.

He suffers the indignity longer than he should have, probably giving away his enjoyment, but quickly tries to pull away when he realizes that he’s leaning in.

“He’s injured, Dickhead! Be careful,” Jason comes to Damian’s defense. Dick quickly lets go, looking guilty, but he is still smiling in happiness. 

Damian’s attention is then caught by a group of individuals trouping into the medbay. A few of which he recognizes, and various strangers as well. Father leads the group in, and Dick’s parents are smiling at him as they enter. Among the group, Damian notes an elderly gentleman that most likely is the Alfred Jason was talking about, two kindly middle-aged women, another teenage boy, and a teenage girl, both younger than Dick and Jason. 

“Cassandra!” Damian exclaims when he sees her bring up the rear. She smiles brightly at him. “Little brother,” she chirps. Damian’s eyes widen. In the entire time he had known her, he had never heard her speak. Her voice is lower, almost hoarse. Damian doesn’t know if that’s just how it is or because of the years she spent not speaking.

Damian chokes on a hiccup. All day, he had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions, and finding out his only friend was actually alive is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Tears are running down his face before he can stop them. 

“They- they told me you had died,” he sobs. Cassandra quickly envelopes him in her arms and the rest of the group coo in concern. Father rubs his back comfortingly while Dick pats his head. 

It takes a while for him to get himself under control, and when he does, he feels embarrassment overtake him. “I apologize,” he says wiping his eyes, “it was undignified of me to show weakness. I will accept whatever punishment you require.”

They all make sounds of anger, and Damian shrinks in on himself. He hadn’t gotten the impression that they would be worse than the league, but looks can be deceiving. “Your only punishment is lots of cuddles,” Dick declares, sweeping him back into his arms, while the others make sounds of agreement. They pile on Damian, mindful of his injuries, and cocoon him. 

Damian has never felt so safe. 

Later on, he’ll be introduced to Catherine (“Call me Mom if you’re comfortable”), Daj (“I won’t tell you my real name, sweetie”), John (“I’d prefer Tati, please”), Timothy (“I swear if you don’t call me Tim, I’ll eat all the frosting in your Oreos”), Stephanie (“Nice to meet ya’ pipsqueak”), Crystal (“That’s Auntie Crystal to you”), and Alfred (“Just Alfred. No ‘gramps’ unless I’m in the mood”). 

Later on, he’ll mention Mara to Father, who will promise to get her somewhere safe. 

Later on, he’ll break down about how not normal his life had actually been, about how maybe being a kid isn’t a bad thing.

Later on, he’ll talk to a kind woman who lets him draw about his feelings and past, who listens and makes him feel okay, normal even.

But, for now, Damian just relaxes for the first time in his just-beginning life.

….

American culture is weird. Damian has spent 6 months adjusting to the new scents, new weather, new people. Their customs are absurd as well. Damian’s older siblings had once forced him into a ridiculous platypus costume with a top hat while they caroused about in the disguise of fictional characters who take care of said platypus as a pet. The candy had been delicious though.

School, on the other hand, was torturous until Damian met a classmate, Teddy, who doesn’t mind his intellect. Despite the juvenile name, Teddy exhibits a maturity that Damian finds refreshing among the feral children of Gotham Academy. He is also the only one that talks to Damian. The others are afraid of his power as a Wayne, of course (he tries not to think about how different he is from them). 

Although Damian has far surpassed his classmates in the realm of academics, he still struggles with the social aspect of school. He had to learn what “tag” and “hide and seek” meant, and he refuses to admit that the games are fun (with his training, he’s the best at them, of course).

His family does their best to help him adjust, educating him on pop culture references, watching classic movies with him, and overall making him feel comfortable in a foreign place.

Damian feels like he has everything he could ever need: a loving family, and an interesting new city to explore (even if he is banned from patrolling with father). Damian had put up a fight about helping Batman, but the rules were clearly stated to him and he begrudgingly agreed. Now he spends his days like every almost-seven-year-old. Going to school, getting kidnapped by his older siblings to go get ice cream, and spending quality time with all his parental figures. Mother even visits from time to time, but they are always within range of a hovering Batman. 

The only thing he feels he is missing is a pet. Ever since he had dressed up as that platypus, Damian has been trying to forget his yearning desire to have an animal to care for. He has spent so long suppressing his affection for animals of any kind, that he feels hesitant to bring it up.

He knows that his family is nothing like the league, and that Father loves to spoil his children, but Damian does not want to push his luck. That is, until he has a certain breakthrough.

Now, Father has been nagging him about calling him “Dad” or “Baba”, and Damian has been categorically refusing as those terms don’t exude the same amount of respect. However, if Damian can use that as leverage to obtain a pet, he doesn’t mind referring to Father as Baba (he is too special to be like his siblings and call him ‘Dad’). 

Damian is willing to make any sacrifice for a dog or cat. 

“Father,” he says, approaching the man at the Batcomputer. Said man whirls around and scolds him, “Damian, what did we say about coming down to the Batcave without permission?”

“To not,” Damian replies dismissively. Quickly changing the subject, he continues, “I have a deal I would like to propose.”

 Father’s eyebrows raise and his scolding is sidelined by his intrigue. “What deal?”

“I demand you take me to the pet shelter, and in return, I will reluctantly refer to you as Baba,” Damian explains. 

Father mulls it over seriously, and then nods decisively. “I would have taken you regardless, but I will not say no to your deal. I’d like to hear you call me ‘Baba’ now,” he agrees. A glint of teasing reaches Father, no, Baba’s eyes. Damian huffs, and tries not to blush to no avail. “Baba, can we please go to the pet shelter?” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact. 

Damian is suddenly grabbed in a crushing hug and his cheek is affectionately pinched. “Of course, son,” Baba rumbles. 

No one will ever know what happened on their father-son bonding trip, and neither of the two will ever admit anything about it aside from the fact that they had a good time. For two people trained in the art of secret-keeping, who share a genetic trait of mystery, they will take their trip to the grave and beyond. 

All anyone will ever know is that Bruce Wayne and his youngest child, Damian (Todd Grayson) Al Ghul-Wayne, leave to visit Bristol’s local animal shelter, and arrive back at Wayne Manor with two dogs, a cat, a cow, and a dragon bat in tow. 

Chapter Text

It’s useful, Duke thinks, to be able to hide in plain sight. People rush around him, not even glancing at the small alcove he’s sequestered himself in. Duke’s been doing this more often, especially since he found out he was different, inhuman. 

Okay, he guesses he’s still human, but he’s not a normal human, and normalcy is what he desperately needs now. He hadn’t expected his life to follow a series of cliches. The main protagonist suffers an immense trauma and awakens these powers in them that drive them to do good. It’s almost like he’s trapped in a comic book or something.

And sure, Duke has tried comforting himself with the thought that the Joker is dead. He died two years ago. Duke’s twelve now. He can’t keep waking up with nightmares about a night that happened five years ago. 

His parents have tried to get him to see a therapist, but what good is confiding in someone when you can’t divulge a vital part of yourself?

He goes occasionally when the nightmares get so bad he can’t sleep at night, but when he doesn’t have therapy, Duke tends to deal with his panic by isolating himself in a small, quiet space where he can’t be overwhelmed. 

He hasn’t had too much practice with his powers, despite having them for years, but he has mastered them just enough to remain invisible to the naked eye.

School has just ended, but his parents can’t pick him up just yet, so Duke finds himself in the main library of Gotham Academy. The three campuses coalesce in a main center point where all grades from kindergarten to 12th can mingle. Here, all Gotham Academy students can find a hub of stores, eateries, libraries, recreation centers, and more.

It was weird when he first stepped on campus, a Wayne Scholarship the only reason he was even able to be in the same vicinity of it. Duke has since gotten used to the atmosphere, but that doesn’t mean his peers have gotten used to him . 

Sure he’s on friendly terms with the other scholarship kids, but his trauma seems to keep him from being a normal kid who wants to hang out with friends. He tends to be distant and finds it hard to open up even if he can hold a perfectly good (superficial) conversation. He talks to his classmates during the school day, but the moment the bell rings, Duke parts ways with them and huddles cozily in an invisible space. 

At least he thought it was.

At first Duke doesn’t register that anyone is talking to him. How could he when he assumes no one can see him? The background chatter of muffled conversations has always been a calming backdrop to him.

A jostle on his shoulder clues him into the fact that he may not be as invisible as he had once thought. 

“Who are you?” a young, but dignified voice demands, “What are you doing to hide like this?”

Duke’s head snaps up in fear. He didn’t know anyone could see past his light manipulation, but whoever it is, they have to be incredibly observant. 

He doesn’t feel any better when he recognizes who is standing above him with their hands on their hips. 

Damian Wayne is scowling in thought as he analyses Duke like he can see through him. And maybe he can. Damian Wayne has always seemed like an oddball to Duke. At times, he can capture everyone’s attention with his presence and at others he can avoid detection almost as well as Duke. He seems both too mature and childish at the same time. He’s very intelligent but he seems to struggle with social indicators and skills. 

The poor kid was tossed to the wolves the second his existence was revealed, and Duke can tell he’s been struggling to adjust. If Duke’s had trouble adjusting to Gotham Academy when he lives in Gotham, he can’t imagine adjusting to it when you’re from a whole ‘nother country .

Honestly, despite their large differences, Duke can see himself in Damian. A kid just trying to get by when they don’t fit in quite right.

“Ah, it’s just a trick of the light,” Duke says sheepishly in response to Damian’s demand. “I found that this is a good place to hide. Wanna join me?”

Damian sniffs, feigning indifference, but Duke can see that he’s interested. For an eight year old, Damian is exceedingly good at controlling his expressions, but he’s still eight years old. Maybe time with his dad has softened him or maybe he’s always been expressive in his own way. Either way, Damian has always been readable to Duke despite his best efforts. 

Duke can’t imagine having the type of attention the Wayne kids get, both negative and positive, so he wants to create a safe place for this child who seems to try too hard to be perfect.

Damian huddles next to Duke, and his small frame fits comfortably. Duke uses his powers to encompass the both of them, and he sets his book aside to look at Damian curiously. 

The boy is looking straight ahead stiffly with his back perfectly straight despite his knees pulled up into his arms. His brows are furrowed with what looks like anger, but the uncertain look in his eyes gives away his confusion. 

It doesn’t seem like he is used to being this close to someone, or maybe this close to someone who wasn’t his family. Duke’s seen pictures in the tabloids of his siblings cuddling him close. He always looks annoyed, but his body leans into them every time. 

Damian is notoriously a big fan of animals. He was once caught trying to set monkeys free when his class went on a field trip to the zoo. So to try and break the ice, Duke asks, “Do you have any pets?”

The change in his demeanor is instant. His green eyes light up in excitement and he clears his throat to regain his composure. “Of course,” Damian answers, “I have a great dane, a german shepherd, a tuxedo cat, a cow, and a dragon bat ( what?) .” 

The animal lover goes on for many minutes describing the names of his pets, their personalities, and what he admires best about them. Duke just sits and listens, knowing that a listener is sometimes all people need, himself included. 

When Damian glances at Duke and sees his attentive expression, a flush tinges his cheeks and he cuts himself off. “Anyway, you seem like a worthy ally. My name is Damian Wayne. What is yours?”

“Duke Thomas,” Duke answers, giving him a smile that, for the first time in a while, doesn’t feel forced. 

….

It becomes a regular routine for them to meet at the alcove after school lets out. Duke’s parents work late, so he always stays back longer, but he has a feeling Damian had come up with an excuse to stay later because he’s sure he’s seen the Wayne butler at pick-up right on time for the other Wayne kids. Sometimes they sit in silence while Damian draws and Duke reads, and sometimes they talk about their interests and their families. The one thing they skirt around is their pasts.

They have come to an unspoken understanding that they’ll talk about it when they are ready. Damian’s lack of social skills and perfectionism paints a disturbing story about what his life was like before his father took him in, but Duke allows him to confide at his own pace. After all, Duke wants the same courtesy as well. 

When the truth finally comes out, it’s not in the way that Duke would have liked. Ideally, he would have mustered up courage and told Damian in a safe, private space. Despite the age gap, Duke has started to trust him as a close friend. That isn’t what happened though. 

In the weeks Duke has befriended Damian Wayne, he has forgotten that he was just that. Damian Wayne . To him, the boy was just Damian, or Dami on occasion when his friend begrudgingly allowed it. 

It hadn’t occurred to him the risks of being related to someone so influential. It hadn’t occurred to Duke why Gotham Academy is decked out in the latest security systems and security guards roaming the campus, why they have gates that tower over passerby. 

Now he knows that letting your guard down outside the protections of Gotham Academy could be dangerous for trust fund babies.

It was the first time they were spending time together outside school. Damian had been wanting to go to the animal shelter and was too impatient to wait until any of his guardians were free. He had convinced Duke to tag along, and Duke, who was no stranger to taking public transportation, had arranged for them to take the bus (he spent the majority of the time rolling his eyes at Damian’s complaints).

When they got to the shelter, they had a grand time petting all the animals, and Duke had almost fallen victim to their cute, adoptable eyes. It was their journey back to Gotham Academy that was the problem. 

The bus hadn’t been on time. No problem, they were frequently delayed so Duke was used to waiting. What was a problem was the white van that pulled up in front of them at the bus stop.

Duke finds himself in the back of the van before he can blink, tied up and blindfolded. He struggles to free himself, calling out to make sure Damian is okay. All he hears is a swishing sound and suddenly the blindfold is removed from his eyes.

Damian had somehow managed to free himself, and Duke eyes him as he brandishes a dagger to cut through the ropes holding Duke. Not going to question where he got it at the moment, Duke looks around to observe his surroundings. 

He sees a few cleaning products lying around, but the van is basically empty. There’s not much to defend themselves with other than the dagger, but they crouch down in wait until the van stops. 

When it does and the door opens to reveal a masked, unkempt man, Damian lunges at him with surprising speed. He is able to knock the man back and stab him with the dagger before three other men converge on them.

Duke watches in awe as the eight-year-old is able to hold them off. Who the hell is his mother??

Duke sneaks out of the van, flanking Damian’s back in case he needs backup. That time comes when Duke notices an additional guard aiming at Damian with a gun from a distance. 

Without even thinking, Duke’s powers react without his control and blind the man with a bright light. Distracted, the other men turn around and give the two boys an opportunity to slip away.

“What was that?” Damian demands, “And don’t even try to lie to me, Thomas.”

Duke knows he’s in trouble when Damian calls him by his last name. He was able to wear the boy down into calling him Duke, so the address calls attention to the boy’s seriousness.

Trying not to hyperventilate, Duke pleads, “Can we not do this now? We need to get to safety.” He knows he can’t delay the inevitable for long, but he sure can try.

“Fine,” Damian spits, leading them into a nearby alley. Duke uses his powers to hide them in the shadows, away from sight. The men had taken their phones so Duke tries to figure out their location.

“Don’t worry, Duke,” Damian says, softening, “My father will come save us.”

“How do you know?” Duke asks, “No matter how powerful he is, he can still be too late.”

Damian remains steady. “I trust Baba. He is not weak enough to fall victim to their schemes. He will find us,” he determines with conviction.

Duke tries to relax, but his heart is beating hard with adrenaline. He tries to keep a handle on his powers, but they keep flickering in and out. Damian observes it curiously and implores Duke to explain. 

Realizing that they are stuck there for a while, Duke sighs and decides to get it over with. They can never go back to the way they were with their secrets kept from each other.

“When I was seven, the Joker attacked my neighborhood,” he starts, “he was attacking everyone with Joker gas and they were all going insane. The lady who always passed by with her dog on a walk, the corner store clerk who would slip me a lollipop from time to time. My entire community was affected. When he came for my family, I saw the gas heading for my parents, and I don’t know what happened next. One minute the goons were holding them down, and the next, they were enveloped in a light and I could see a flash of the future. It was only because of my powers that I could save my parents, but I keep thinking, what if I was too late? ”

Duke’s breathing has started to speed up during his recount, but Damian’s firm, sharp gaze grounds him. They don’t say anything for a moment, observing each other in silence. 

Then, Damian begins to weave his own story. Duke's heart drops as he hears about assassins and training and pain, all experienced by a kid, a toddler. He almost feels bad about his own trauma after hearing about Damian’s. At least he still has his loving parents. Damian’s mother and grandfather tried to raise him to take over a ninja cult. How did Bruce Wayne even meet them, let alone have a child with a ninja assassin lady? Then Duke remembers Bruce Wayne’s many quirks and doesn’t question it any further.

His therapist's voice reminds him that trauma isn’t a competition, so he focuses on his friend, pulling him comfortingly into his side. They stay like that until they hear the whoosh of a familiar cape. 

Of course Batman is here. Duke doesn’t doubt that Bruce Wayne has the resources to call in the big guns when it comes to his children. He hears sounds of fighting as Batman takes down their kidnappers. 

When the sounds die down, Batman’s footsteps can be heard running through the area in search of something. Them , Duke realizes belatedly.

“Damian, Duke,” Batman growls out, but surprisingly, Duke can hear a note of concern in his voice. Duke didn’t think Batman was fazed by anything. 

Before Duke can react, Damian is out from under his arm and darting to the sound of the voice. Cursing under his breath, Duke stands up and follows after his wayward best friend. 

The sight he sees when he rounds the corner is not what he is expecting. Damian is clinging onto Batman in a tight grip as Batman cocoons him in his heavy cape, rocking him gently.

“What?” Duke blurts out, stunned. 

The two turn to look at him, but they don’t pull away. “Duke, it is unfortunate that you have to meet like this, however, I was thinking my father can help you with your powers,” Damian says, looking like a spoiled, cuddly little prince from Batman’s burly arms. 

Duke recoils at Damian already spilling his secret, even if it is to a superhero, until he processes the whole statement. “Wait…. father?! ”

Batman sighs, but he walks calmly over to a flabbergasted Duke, still carrying his son. “Damian tells me that you are struggling with controlling your metapowers. Normally I wouldn’t be okay with revealing my identity, but you are Damian’s closest friend and he trusts you. If you are okay with it, I would like to help you train in controlling your powers. I never let kids go out on patrol until they are adults, but eventually, if you want, you can use your powers to help others,” Batman offers.

This is the most Duke has ever heard Batman talk, and he starts to recognize the voice now that Batman isn’t trying to hide it. The words feel almost surreal to him. All he can pick out is that Batman is offering to train him, and that Batman is Bruce Wayne . The assassin baby mama makes more sense now.

….

It’s weird, Duke thinks, that he’s gotten so close to people who had never felt real to him before. He would always see them on the tabloids and feel like they were from another world.

But now he sees them for who they are, not who the world sees them as. He likes their true selves a whole lot better.

Due to his training and friendship with Damian, Duke had started spending a good amount of time at Wayne Manor. There he was able to get close to the other residents and become more than Batman’s student or Damian’s friend. He was able to carve his own place within the family. 

The other residents welcomed him with open arms and for the first time in a long time, Duke found himself not wanting to hide away. B connected him with Dinah, who he could talk to without having to hide his powers, and slowly, Duke’s nightmares started to decrease. 

Duke had found himself a community, not just with the Waynes, but with other superheroes . The Justice League members with powers sometimes jumped in to help with Duke’s training, and they made him feel like he wasn’t alone in his differences. They had protégés that befriended Duke and trusted him with their experiences that led to where they are now. 

Everyone Duke met inspired him to do better, and with a new sense of purpose, he slowly came back out of his shell and felt like himself again.  He was even able to make more friends in school, much to Damian’s jealousy, until Duke integrated him into the group as well.

It feels like ever since Damian Wayne came into his life, it has only gotten better. He’s expanded his social circle and been introduced to new exciting worlds of billionaires and superheroes.

Duke gets caught up in his new thrilling life. He’s out the door in the morning, eager to see his friends at school, then after school, he’s driven to his "extracurriculars” by Alfred Pennyworth where he spends a few hours training in the Batcave. Subsequently, he’s invited to stay for dinner and the occasional movie night before he’s driven back home by any of the drivers in the family.

It’s Jason’s turn tonight and Duke resists the urge to whoop as the motorcycle they are on reaches insane speeds and swerves around turns. The seventeen-year-old is calm and confident behind the wheel, like he’s learned to drive from someone who chases after villains for a hobby. They get there in half the time it usually takes when Duke is taken home by a more responsible driver, and Duke is 100% not complaining. 

They are both grinning widely when they take off their helmets and Jason ruffles Duke’s hair affectionately before he leaves him at his front door. Duke watches him hop back onto his motorcycle and zoom off before opening his front door and stepping into his apartment. 

“Where have you been staying out so late?” Mom’s voice rings out. 

“Ah,” Duke says, jerking his head up in surprise. He sees his mom leaning against the wall in the hallway with her arms crossed, and she walks towards him when they make eye contact. “You know…I’ve been going to the gym to train for gymnastics,” Duke explains, repeating his excuse for the hundredth time. And it is true…occasionally. The Graysons invite him over to train there from time to time where he learns cool flips, strength, and flexibility. 

He doesn’t know how to tell his parents how he’s suddenly so close to the Wayne family. Despite the possible explanation of being best friends with Damian Wayne, it feels hard to tell them how he got so close to the whole family without revealing Bruce Wayne’s secret identity and that they know about Duke’s powers. His parents have always stressed the importance of keeping his powers secret, and Duke completely understands, but they won’t get why he trusts them so much without context. 

Mom looks at him skeptically, and says, “Your dad and I want to meet whoever is training you soon, so we know if we can trust them, Duke. This is Gotham, and you’re only twelve. How do we know you aren’t getting up to trouble?” 

“I-I’m not, Mom, I promise,” Duke says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and hurrying  to his room to sleep. He feels guilty about keeping secrets from them, but some are not his secrets to tell. Maybe he’ll float the idea of telling his parents to the Waynes soon.

….

Duke hesitates at his front door. Bruce had dropped him off with an invitation to dinner for the whole family burning a hole in Duke’s pocket. The family had taken it well when Duke had brought up telling his parents. The parents, of course, understood that they too would want their kids to tell them something like this, and the kids understood not wanting to keep secrets from your parents.

Duke had been dropped off early today, so his parents are eating dinner when he walks in. 

“Duke!” his dad calls out cheerfully.

“Hey Mom! Hey Dad!” Duke responds, smiling, “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m surprised you’re home for dinner,” his mom says wryly, and Duke flushes with guilt. He hasn’t made a lot of time for his parents, all caught up in his new, exhilarating experiences, but hopefully that will change now.

“Yeah, I know I have been pretty busy recently…but….I know you wanted to meet the people I’m training with, Mom, and they’ve invited us all for dinner,” Duke says, brandishing the invitation.

Duke’s dad lets out a whistle when he sees the calligraphy. “They seem a little more than your trainers, son,” his dad says.

“Yeah, they’ve helped me a lot and are very welcoming,” Duke admits, “I feel like we’re all close friends now, and I want you to meet them too. I was just worried about their privacy because they’re pretty significant people, which is why I haven’t told you sooner.”

He points to the wax crest that had been stamped on the invitation and his parents’ eyes widen when they recognize what family it signifies. “You have become friends with the…Waynes?” his mother questions. 

“Yeah, I met Damian Wayne in school and we became best friends so we hang out a lot at the manor. The Graysons have a gym that they help me train in,” Duke informs them, “So what do you say to Saturday dinner?”

His parents exchange glances and his dad turns to Duke and grins, “Why not? It will be cool to see the place in person! I want to see if Brucie Wayne is like that in real life,” he laughs boisterously.

Duke sighs, trying to hide a smile. 

“I think it’s a bit exaggerated, but we’ll see.”

….

When the dinner arrives, his mom seems stiff and nervous while his dad starts cracking jokes to break the tension. Duke is tense with anticipation as he wonders how the meeting will go.

Alfred opens the door like always and takes their coats to hang up, leading them to the dining hall. The table is already set and the family is gathered around the giant spread. They all wave cheerfully and Damian pulls Duke down into the seat next to him. Duke introduces his parents and they both smile nervously as they take their seats on the other side of Duke. 

The conversation starts off as polite small talk, but Dick and Mary Grayson are amazing tension breakers, so they have everyone laughing in no time. As his parents start to relax, his dad quickly realizing that Brucie Wayne is a persona much to his disappointment, Duke looks around at everyone he loves all finally in the same room.

After dinner, Stephanie suggests a game night and everyone agrees, looking for a way to break out of their food comas from Alfred’s delicious meal. They start off with Monopoly, which quickly devolves into a drama of betrayal and murder. Duke is unsure if Tim will ever forgive Jason for trying to murder him in game because Tim stole the top hat pawn. 

Duke’s parents seem to fit in almost immediately. It’s not hard to feel the Wayne family’s warmth, but from what Duke has observed, they don’t completely let just anyone into their inner circle. Gratefulness starts to bubble up in him when he realizes that his parents have been accepted just as easily as he was. They are like honorary members of the family similar to the Gordons.

At the end of the night, Bruce shakes Duke’s parents hands before they are about to leave. “I am grateful that you have trusted me with your son. I know it must be difficult trying to protect him when he has these powers, but rest assured, as Batman, the Justice League and I will help you protect him.”

Duke winces. He had forgotten to let the family know that he hasn’t revealed their secret yet even though they gave the go ahead. I guess my parents know now…  

Duke slowly turns to them, their expressions full of shock and suspicion, and while his Mom mutters, “How did you know about his powers?”, Dad exclaims, “YOU’RE BATMAN?” seemingly struggling to match the gruff vigilante to the ditzy Brucie Wayne he had known until today.

There’s a silence as everyone processes what just happened. “Oh shit,” Bruce whispers.

“Master Bruce!”

“DAAAAD!” 

"Baba..."

“BRUCE!”

A chorus of scolding voices rings in the foyer.

Chapter Text

Clark has been here many times before. Memories crop up as he enters the elaborate manor and makes his way through the seemingly never-ending hallways. Knowing the whole place by heart, Clark’s feet take him instinctively in the right direction. 

It’s a rare clear day in Bristol, the sun shining harshly on the patio. It’s almost as if the city has soaked up the happiness radiating from this gathering. Picnic tables are set up to seat almost a hundred people, and the air is filled with the chimes of laughter. 

It had taken a lot of time to get to this point. Sure Clark had figured out early on who Batman was, but it took time for the others to follow suit. In that time, the Justice League had strengthened their bonds to the point where they would die for each other. 

It was no easy feat. For people who came together to protect Earth, they had all faced obstacles that made them unused to having people to rely on. However, the trust began to build, and unknowingly, the league had become his best friends. 

Bruce was the last to open up. For one who so easily opens his heart and home, the man can be very guarded when he wants to be, especially as Batman. But they won him over, Clark thinks, as he looks around at the large gathering Bruce’s family is hosting. 

The kids are all gathered around the pool, some of them splashing around while the rest lounge by the poolside. Dick and Barbara are cuddling on a lounger, the red-head reading a book while her boyfriend runs his hand through her hair and eggs on his siblings. The other Wayne children have gotten into a chicken fight, and Cassandra and Jason seem to be crushing Tim and Damian because the two keep trying to sabotage each other. 

Duke and Stephanie seem to have a bet going because Stephanie is cheering wildly as Duke pouts. Clark smiles as he sees his sons cannonball into the pool, having sped ahead of him when they arrived. Kon dunks Tim into the pool as the other boy sputters and Damian smirks in triumph until it’s wiped off his face when Jon dunks him as well. The rest of the younger generation are laughing along to the drama and stuffing their faces full of snacks. Wally and Bart’s plates are piled high with Alfred’s delicacies. Roy squirts Jason with a watergun and Kori defends the boy with her own weapon. Tim’s boyfriend, Bernard, gestures wildly as he explains something to a confused-looking Garfield and Donna. 

After seeing that they are (hopefully) not going to kill each other, Clark makes his way to his own friends. Various league members are conversing at the picnic tables, and an enthusiastic conversation looks like it is taking place between an excited Mary Grayson, Barry Allen, and Doug Thomas (how they found common ground, Clark has no idea). Elaine Thomas and Kate Kane seem to be seeking refuge with the steady Commissioner Gordon. Kate observes everyone amusedly while Elaine and the commissioner eye the chaos warily. 

Clark grins as he approaches Diana and Bruce. “Nice to see everyone get along, right?” he asks pleasantly. Diana smiles in agreement while Bruce just grunts, distracted by the meat he is grilling. 

Clark loads up a plate for himself while he chats with them, and he’s just starting to dig into his third burger when he hears familiar footsteps approach them.

Looking up at Hal swaggering towards them with Oliver in tow, Clark smiles at them awkwardly. “Sup, Spooky!” Hal greets, “Hope you haven’t burnt the food.” Bruce narrows his eyes at the man, but otherwise ignores him. “Hey, guys!” Oliver chimes in. 

Diana greets them back warmly, and Clark waves at them, mouth too full of food to verbally reply. When they settle onto the table with plates of their own, Hal broaches an interesting topic.

“Say, Spooky, how were you able to keep your kids from becoming heroes? Half their friends are in the life, and I heard from the others that they couldn’t keep their kids from becoming heroes no matter how hard they tried.”

“Yeah,” Oliver adds tiredly, “Roy would literally sneak out on patrol on his own if I didn’t let him join me.”

Clark silently agrees with their curiosity. He knows Kon and Jon are a little different given that they have superpowers and would feel guilty if they didn’t save people they could, but Clark had tried to follow Bruce’s example of having them wait until they were adults. Jon, bless him, has mostly listened so far despite begging Clark for “take your kid to work” days and stopping petty crimes, but Kon straight up laughed in his face before joining the Titans on a mission.

Bruce hums for a moment before responding, “The other parents were very helpful in setting the boundaries. You have no idea how effective John’s disappointed stare is. I think every kid is different, and it is important to consider their motives before trying to get them to stay out of heroics as minors. Just telling them isn’t going to cut it. You have to be strategic about it.”

He then goes on to explain how they convinced his children to not go on patrol until they were eighteen whenever their thoughts strayed in that direction. It seems to have taken a lot of teamwork and collaboration from all the adults in the household to make it happen. 

Clark’s head starts to spin as he processes the level of trust and persuasion that was needed to make it work, and knows that he could have never accomplished that himself. The others seem to have a similar opinion because Oliver sighs in resignation and mutters, “Oh well, it’s too late now.”

They move on from the topic when they notice it had made the mood somber, and soon their group of people grows as everyone in the party joins them. It’s evening now, the sky lighting up in a rarely seen sunset. A firepit is lit and loud chatter surrounds Clark’s sensitive ears. 

Clark rests his cheek in his palm as he grins sappily at the community they have created. 

“Yo, Supes! What’s got you looking so gooey? Thinking about the wife?” a teasing voice sounds from right behind his right shoulder. Clark just barely keeps his shoulders from tensing in surprise and turns around to see a beaming Dick Grayson. 

Despite not being a hero, Dick has spent a good amount of time surrounded by them, and Clark knows Bruce has been training him, so he’s stealthy enough to sneak up on a distracted Superman. One day , Clark thinks, that kid is going to change the world. How he does it, is another question.

“Dick,” Clark greets happily and pats the seat next to him for the Olympic medalist to gracefully plop down on, “How are you enjoying the party?”

The medical student sighs contentedly.  “It has been so fun! You know, this atmosphere makes me want to tell stories around a fire…what about you?”

Clark chuckles. “Me too,” he agrees, “How about it? Want to exchange stories? I know a few Kryptonian legends…”

Dick perks up even more, something Clark didn’t even know was possible. “Yes, please!!!” he exclaims in excitement. 

“Alright,” Clark says fondly, “Let me tell you about the legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.”