Chapter Text
1.
“No, No, Dickie! Mama’s practicing right now, we can’t be in the ring.” John chased after the surprisingly fast toddler waddling his way into the center ring. Ever since he’d started walking, Dick kept Mary and John on their toes. They were always darting after him before he could toddle himself into trouble. Good thing there was an entire circus helping them. “Maybe he ought to be a sprinter.”
Mary laughed, unraveling herself from the aerial silks. “You’re just excited to be in the air again, aren’t you, my love?” With a playful gasp she snatched up her son, spinning him once around. Dick practically screamed with laughter, baby soft curls a wild mess. “You want to fly with mama?”
“Yesh! Mama!” Dick crowed two of the five words he knew and threw his arms up.
Heavens above, she loved this boy. Mary pressed kisses to his dimpled cheeks before looking at her husband who was watching them with an equal affection in his eyes. “Would you pass me that wrap, dear? I won’t take him too high.”
“I’m here to catch you both so go as high as you’d like.” John chuckled.
“I don’t think you’d be able to! When did your bird bones go away, Dick?” She asked her cooing son, feeling his recent growth spurt as she wrapped him against her chest.
“Soon he’ll be ready for the trapeze,” Pride beamed from John, “Can’t seem to keep his feet on the ground.” Dick tilted his head back and gave his dad a mostly gummy smile in return. No wonder he’d barely spent any time crawling. Their little bird was ready to fly.
With practiced moves, Mary knotted the silks, turning them into a swing. Then she took a running start and they were off, rising into the air as shrill giggles bubbled out of Dick. “Look at you fly, my little robin!” Mary couldn’t help but laugh in return as they swung around the ring, her dark hair streaming behind them. Dick squinted against the wind, nestling his head against her chest, still smiling.
Bundle of joy was truly the only way to really describe their son. He was precious, and if he could stay this little and sweet for years to come it would be a blessing, yet Mary found herself hopefully curious to see what kind of boy and man he’d grow into.
“You’re going to fly higher than anyone ever has, I just know it,” She kissed the top of Dick’s head, cuddling him close, “And we’ll be flying right alongside you. I promise.”
2.
Catherine loved this park. It was a bit of a walk so they didn’t go often but she loved the peaceful little pond and Jason loved the ducks. Though she was positive the ducks thought of it as being terrorized whenever Jason sprinted towards them in delight.
“Jay, remember what we talked about! Walk, sweetie. Don’t scare them.”
Obediently, Jason slowed down to a marginally brisk walk. The ducks scattered anyway, even with the fistful of grass Jason waved around and soon the six-year-old was back and moping on the blanket they’d spread out.
“I just wanted to play with them,” Jason whined, wistfully watching as a few brave birds waddled back onto land. He flopped onto his back and ripped out another handful of grass. It was the only way to express his misery, it seemed, despite her telling to stop, “This is why I need a little brother or sister.”
“Jay Jay, a duck is not the same as a baby. Also, babies can’t play for at least a year.”
His little face scrunched up with thought. “Can I get a dog then?”
Catherine fought back a smile, thinking of the red dog collar hidden under her bed. An early birthday present. “I’ll think about it.”
That cheered Jason right up. Ducks forgotten, he grabbed his beaten up soccer ball and started kicking it around, directing Catherine when to be the goalie or when he was the goalie until he plopped down on the blanket and declared he was so exhausted he could die.
“Come on drama king, we need to return this library book then make dinner.” Jason’s hand was tiny in hers, sometimes holding tight and other times loosening up as he chattered and grew distracted as they walked along the busy streets. His beloved soccer ball was tucked tight under his other arm.
Willis should be done with his business meeting by the time they got home. She hated when he used the apartment for work but what could they do? Jason was going through another growth spurt and needed school supplies for the fall. Being a henchman was dangerous, who knew how long the gig would last or how safe it would be, but the money Willis brought home last week alone meant she didn’t have to choose between rent or fresh food this month.
“Jason matters more.” Willis desperately insisted and how could she disagree? What could matter more than this sweet boy hugging her waist and pleading for another cookie before bed?
“I saw you sneak one before dinner, Jason Peter Todd,” She tapped his nose, smiling at his giggles, “Now wash up and get in bed, you have school tomorrow and I have an early shift. Ah! No whining!”
Jason was dutifully laying in bed when Catherine came to tuck him in later. “I’m going to dream about ducks. Giant ones.” He declared as she arranged the blanket around him.
“I bet you will.” She smoothed his black waves and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Sweet ducky dreams, Jay Jay. I love you.”
Arms wrapped around her neck, a clumsy kiss on her cheek, “Love you too, momma.”
Catherine clutched him closer for a second, tucking her face against his little shoulder. Jason might not be her blood, but he was hers in every way that mattered. He’d never question if he was loved, she’d make sure of it. He’d have the best life they could give him.
3.
“Cass, if you don’t get back here this instant…”
Cass froze in the hallway, sheepishly looking over her shoulder even as she took another experimental step down the hallway. Barbara’s eyes narrowed, unspoken threat hanging in the air. A first aid kit sat in her lap as she pointed at the bathroom. No escaping it then.
“That’s what I thought,” Barbara said, wheeling into the bathroom after her, “You can’t out stubborn me, I’ve been dealing with Bruce and Dick for far too long. Sit.”
Cass did, but not without a dramatic sigh. “I’m okay.” Patrol was easy, like usual. These little injuries were nothing. She’s had worse. So it was more than a little surprising when Babs pulled out a needle and thread and set to work.
“You and Bruce. You’re too similar and bring out the worst in each other.”
“Batman is good,” Cass insisted. She needed to be like him, needed to be worthy of wearing a bat. Didn’t she understand? It was good that Bruce pushed her.
“Yes his ideals are good but his habits are terrible,” Barbara glanced up, making sure Cass was listening to her, “Batgirls are different from Batman. We have to be. Bruce can run himself into the ground but I refuse to let you nose dive after him.” She set the medical supplies away and laid a hand on Cass’s cheek. “No Batgirl of mine is going to live that way. Even if I have to force feed you myself or tie you down to slap on a bandage. Okay?”
Of mine. It was still odd to be claimed in such a kind way. Held in an open hand rather than crushed in a tight fist. Cass nodded.
“Okay.” Barbara repeated softly, still looking at her with a softness Cass had never seen in anyone before her. A softness she wasn’t sure she deserved but wanted so much it ached. She threw her arms around Babs, surprising the other woman. It felt good. It felt easier than trying to put into words how Barbara’s care made her feel, how much she appreciated the time Barbara took to try and teach her to read even when she was a terrible student, or even allowing her to be Batgirl.
And judging by the way Barbara was squeezing her in return, she felt the same. “You did good out there tonight.” Babs said when Cass sat back.
She beamed. “It was easy.”
Babs shook her head, a smile breaking through her scolding, “Heaven help me, your ego might need its own suit soon.”
4.
“Mommy’s home!”
Janet could hear the excited shouting before the front doors even swung open. She barely had time to set her suitcases down and kneel before Tim came flying down the stairs. “Mommy!” He shouted again, launching himself at her.
“Oof!” She barely avoided his forehead knocking her front teeth out, “My darling! Did you get stronger while we were gone? This is one powerful hug.” She peeled Tim off and cupped his little face in her hands, straightened his overall straps. Kids grew fast, she knew that, but when they’d left Tim didn’t really look like a seven year old yet. But now…only three months later he’d gotten taller, baby fat quickly leaving those adorable cheeks, and he’d been given a haircut that made him look like a miniature adult.
Janet swallowed past the lump in her throat. She’d wanted to bring him but the dig was practically primitive camping. And a tiny canvas tent meant no place for private arguments. No, hard as it was, Tim would be happier in Gotham. Happier not knowing.
“Hiya sport,” Jack said, ruffling Tim’s hair as he dragged more bags in, “You’ve been behaving well for Mrs. Mac?”
Tim nodded so fast it was a wonder he didn’t tip right over. “I’ve been very good!” He said excitedly, still clinging to Janet’s arm, “I did all my homework and went to bed on time and ate my vegetables. I even washed behind my ears!”
“Oh? Let me check,” Tim squealed with laughter as Janet tickled his neck, “Why don’t you help your dad, sweetie. I’ll go find Mrs. Mac.”
“She’s in the kitchen!” Tim said, grabbing the largest of all the suitcases. It didn’t budge despite his best efforts.
Once she’d finished questioning Mrs. Mac about everything from Tim’s schooling to his health to exactly how many vegetables he’d been eating at every meal, Janet went up to start unpacking. Only to be intercepted by Tim who promptly seized her hand and dragged her back down the hallway to his bedroom. “You have to see my science model! And my drawings! Oh, my new favorite book too, we read it in class.”
She was tired. It’d been a long trip and their flights home had been delayed. But Janet planted herself on the bed beside Tim, dutifully nodding along as he explained his Styrofoam model of the earth and tried her best to not look too nervous when he climbed on his desk chair to grab some knick-knack from his shelf. No, sleep would have to wait. Tim was glued to her side, making sure he explained every detail of the last three months even as they went downstairs to get food. When he finally passed out on the couch, his head pillowed on her lap, Janet made no attempt to move him. If she ended up spending the night in the living room, that was fine. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.
5.
The sun sank behind the ocean like a ball of flame. It was breathtaking, the way it dyed the sea and set it sparkling. Talia gazed at it, Damian at her side. She’d wanted to bring him here, to this remote cliffside, for years. Where she’d made a promise to him that he had no way of remembering. For a time she didn’t think it would ever happen, that perhaps sending Damian to learn from his father meant the end of their relationship.
Yet here he was. Fourteen years old. He’d grown of course, his face creeping towards maturity, losing its boyishness far too quickly. Bruce’s influence on him was clear, as well as his siblings’. Yet he remained her son as well, still the same in so many ways. She and Bruce were proud of who Damian was growing into. Where the path he was forging led.
She looked at him, each day looking more and more like his father, and remembered the small bundle she once held in this exact spot. The tuft of fine black hair, little pursed lips, soft newborn grunts and coos. All those years ago she’d kissed his tiny hand, delicate wrinkled fingers curled around her thumb, and promised him the world and more.
“Whatever you want, my little love.”
Unfortunately for both her and Bruce, it seemed they both struggled to fulfill that promise in different ways. But there was still time. Hundreds of sunsets left for her to make good on her promise, to keep trying. She combed her fingers through Damian’s thick black hair before settling her hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t shrug it off or make an annoyed sound. Instead he moved the tiniest bit closer, looking up at her. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Where did you pick that saying up?”
“Tt. Richard. He has a lot of them.”
“Hm. I was thinking about when I came here before, when you were a baby. Oh, you were so little, barely two months old and perfect. You used to pout when you slept,” The corner of her mouth twitched, “I wonder if you still do.”
Now Damian made a disgruntled sound, “Mother…”
“You did ask for my thoughts. You also used to put your foot in your mouth all the time. It didn’t matter how often I pulled it out–”
“Mother.” Damian groused, thoroughly embarrassed even though they were alone.
Talia couldn’t help but laugh, “Very well, I’m done. Now, what are your thoughts?”
Damian cast a playfully suspicious look at her, as if expecting another story. “I was thinking about how I’d paint this scene. What I’d capture about it.”
She smoothed his hair again, smiling, “Tell me more, my little love.”
6.
“You’ll scuff your shoes!”
“They’re just shoes.” Martha dismissed the worried spectator. She was more focused on holding Bruce’s little hands tight in hers as he carefully stepped on top of her feet. “Ready?” Her little boy looked up with bright eyes, nodding excitedly.
Then they were off, twirling through a dance floor of society’s finest holiday outfits. They were both giggling as Martha spun them, singing along with the jazzy rendition of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”.
The next dance was slower and Bruce hopped down and held his hand out with a flourish. “May I have this dance?”
Martha took both of his hands and nodded firmly. “Sweep me away, good sir!” It was a clumsy waltz that sometimes consisted of just stepping back and forth and Martha had to duck quite a bit when Bruce insisted on spinning her, but the smile on his face was worth it. She always loved dancing with him, even when he was a baby, humming and waltzing around the nursery until the swaying put him to sleep.
And when it was time for Bruce to go to bed, the party slowly winding down, Martha hummed in his ear as he yawned, his arms wrapped around her neck as she danced into his room.
Bruce was so sleepy he nearly toppled over when she stood him up to take off his suit jacket. “Steady there,” she teased, guiding him under the covers, “no pajamas tonight, we’ll just tell Alfred we’re sorry for wrinkling your good dress shirt and get him an extra Christmas present.” She tucked the quilt up around Bruce’s neck then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Don’t tell your father but you’re my favorite dance partner.”
Bruce gave her a sleepy smile before burrowing under the blanket. He was snoring by the time she closed the bedroom door.