Chapter Text
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Rose’s thorns are sharp, but they are also there to protect the soft petals from being plucked. Sharp and deadly when tangled, ensnaring anything that grows too close. Ironic, really, how being close to something so sweet could be painful if you try to get near. Things were no different with your family. As much as you cared for them, you couldn’t let them in, just in case. What if one day, they were the ones to hurt you? To decide you were unwanted? Deep down, you knew they would always be yours, but the one slight chance things could change one day was one you couldn’t risk. Getting in deep only made pulling away more painful. At least it wouldn’t hurt so much if they did turn their back on you.
Sure, maybe it was cruel how you would get close, but never quite let them in. Using sharp words to keep them at a distance, even if they knew you cared. It was a lesson you had learned a long time ago. Why would you ever trust anyone again? After all, it had been someone in your own so-called family from before who had sold you to the lab. Luckily, Bruce had helped you find a real one. One you had been ignoring for the past week, barely even sparing them a few minutes. Everyone had noticed, especially Duke. Usually, the two of you were always together, but you had been avoiding him like the plague until the effects of the pollen could wear off. Alfred brought by more heating packs and blankets each night, monitoring your temperature and pain levels, but never tried to pry into your feelings. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Bruce either, which was a relief. Although, knowing Alfred, he was probably trying to get you to bring it up on your own or have Bruce actually talk about feelings for once. Good luck with either of those!
As much as the pollen’s increasing effects made you want to hold onto someone, to feel a bit human again, a stronger force made your skin crawl at the idea. Getting close felt suffocating.
Those years in the lab had left you with scars that ran deeper than skin, after being left alone for days at a time in that cold cell. When being alone was all you knew, presence felt strange. At least you didn’t flinch anymore when someone entered a room, as you had when you first arrived at the manor. Those days had been hard on everyone, when you would kick and scream, trying to fight Bruce or anyone else who tried to help.
The last week had only opened those wounds again, with Ivy’s constant attacks of the cuddle pollen. Now the data center on top of it? Maybe not in the top ten of worst weeks of your life, but definitely the most annoying. Over the past week, you had done enough research to realize how messed up the CEO was. Chase Hastings, as his name was, had built several in the past year or two, forcing towns to sell their homes and shortening water supplies. The company was planning to launch a new AI system soon, and had no plans of stopping, apparently. Good thing you had done some digging and found a few other secrets he was keeping.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A buzz in your phone pocket caught your attention; you noticed Cassandra, Duke, and Damian had texted you. Glancing, you noticed something about the AI, but ignored it for now. Probably about the results of the meeting. Thinking about any of them too long made the ache from the pollen worse, plus you were too angry to think. Shoving your things into your bag, you stormed out of the lecture hall into the busy hallways, moving like a thunder cloud past everyone. A few whispers followed you as you went by, everyone’s eyes on you. Odd.
As a Wayne, you were used to your fair share of attention in Gotham, even if Bruce had put in the effort to keep as much of your identity a secret, along with Duke. Not to mention, you were the least favorite of the Waynes in the public eye, due to your sharp tongue and lack of respect for the rules of the upper class. The media considered you the worst in appearance as well. Honestly, you were pretty enough for most standards, but when you were standing next to a family who all looked like supermodels, it tended to dim your shine.
You had heard all the rumors and read all the mean comments before, but it was when you caught your name from a nearby study room that you paused for a moment. A few of your classmates from Statistics class were inside studying, not noticing you by the doorframe. Quickly, you pressed your back to the wall outside, out of sight, and listened in.
“I always knew she was grumpy. I mean, did you see her just now?”
“Definitely has some sort of anger issues. Feel bad for anyone who has to be near her. Now she adds being a nepo baby on top?”
“What are you talking about?” One of them asked curiously. “Is her family alumni or something?”
“What, you didn’t know? She’s one of the Waynes!” They exclaimed. “As in Bruce Wayne.”
“Seriously?”
“Not even one of the kids he sponsors either. The man adopted her. She’s an heiress or something.”
One snickered, “Think she’d have a better sense of style with a designer wardrobe.”
“Do you think her dad buys her grades too?” Another voice asked, an edge to their tone.
“No, I’ve seen her in my math class,” a girl added quietly. “She gets nearly every answer right. You can’t fake intelligence. The awards she gets are legit.”
“So what?” one snapped. “My brother wanted to get that internship! It’s wrong!”
Wait…what were they talking about? Did everyone actually dislike you that much here? Sure, you hadn’t had any luck in the friend department so far, but your classmates seemed nice enough to you. What changed?
Right now you didn’t have time to care, even if the words stung. Yes, Bruce spoiled you, but you had also once been in a home where you had to worry about affording the next doctor’s appointment or cut back on gas. Your life hasn’t always been perfect, after all. Pushing off the wall, you turned, accidentally bumping into a guy. “Watch out b-” he began, scowling at you.
“Finish that sentence, and you’ll see how much of one I am,” you huffed, settling a glare on him. A hint of fear filled his eyes; then he rushed past you, practically running down the hall.
Now back to whatever it was your classmates had been on about. Opening your phone, you were flooded with more texts from the family group chat.
Duke: GUYS YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS
A video was attached. Tapping it, it played a video someone had recorded at a cafe of Tim hitting Bernard. Wait? What?! Tim would never do that! He loved Bernard! Looking closer, there was something off about it, and the realization made your gut twist. It was an AI video. In the corner, the name brand hid the AI company. The very one trying to build the data center. Scrolling down, you were bombarded with one after another. A video of Dick saying mean things during an interview. Damian yelling at a waiter and throwing a tantrum like a spoiled brat. Cassandra tripping on her dress at a gala, then being rude to a photographer. A fake conference where Bruce had announced he would be using company funds to get rid of a homeless shelter. Everywhere, the #canceltheWaynes followed.
How could people be falling for this? It was obviously all fake footage! Finally, you saw your own face, or at least an AI wearing it. The video was grainy, as if it had been taken from security cams of you in Bruce’s office at the company. It was so realistic, you would never have been able to tell it was generated, except for the fact that you had no memory of this meeting.
Fake you asked in a voice that sounded eerily like yourself, “So did you do what I asked?” The voice was way too snobbish for your own. Not - Bruce replied, “Yes, I’ve talked with the boards, and you’ll get the internship. Unfortunately, it will leave me no choice but to cut out a few others’ internships.”
Fake you stood up, shouting, “It’s what I deserve! I'm Wayne! I’m owed this job!” She slammed her hand down on the desk, throwing papers at him. “Any job at Wayne Enterprises belongs to me before anyone else.” The screen went dark. Your fingers curled around the phone, hand shaking. Chase crossed a line this time. One he could not go back from. Messing with you was one thing, but hurting your family was another.
Obviously, he was upset about Wayne Enterprises' deal and had targeted this. Specifically, at you, since your name was on the proposal to buy out the data center project.
Jason: Have you seen the one of Batman doing Fortnite dances? It is kinda funny
You: JASON THIS IS SERIOUS!
Jason: Okay fineeee
Damian: Clearly this was an attack
Tim: This is so screwed up! Bernard is so upset. People are DM-ing him telling him to break up with me!
Cassandra: I’m not mean
Dick: Of course you’re not, Cass. Everyone knows that. This is a smear campaign.
You: I’m sorry about this. It’s my fault. I’ll fix it.
More messages popped up, reassuring it wasn’t your fault, but right now it was up to you to fix this. A plan began forming in your mind. All you needed was to buy some time before the company could break ground, then WE could manage to find a deal to persuade Hastings. By now, there would already be construction equipment ready to go to break ground in the field. If you could just remove a few parts without being noticed, then they would have to delay until the replacements arrive. Of course, it would give you some time, but it wouldn’t guarantee the CEO would change his mind, which is why you had to use some leverage. Blackmail.
Alfred had taught you one thing in chess. An opponent will always be two steps ahead, so be three steps ahead of them.
According to Barbara, Chase had replaced hundreds of workers with some of his AI bots, then was pocketing their salaries while forging the company’s accounts. Wouldn’t it be terrible if someone were to leak this information to the public? As well as all the people he had laid off for no reason? If he didn’t agree to stop the data center, as well as the humiliating videos, you would leak all the files.
Checkmate.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Later…
As soon as you got back, you dropped your bag and made your way up the grand staircase towards the library, where Bruce’s office was. Besides the library itself, it was your favorite part of the manor, where all the rare books were and it was one of the oldest parts of the property. Dusty wooden shelves lined the room, with a large round window overlooking the grounds. When you had first arrived, Bruce had found you hiding in there, simply reading by the window. It was quieter there. Plus, it was hidden behind a hidden door, and who didn’t enjoy hidden doors? Only boring people.
Bursting into Bruce’s office, you asked, “Did you see the videos?” By the stone expression on his face, he had.
“Yes, I’ve seen them.” he rested his elbows on the desk, voice tight. “I already have Wayne Enterprise’s PR team on top of it. Scandals are not anything new for me, of course, but I never predicted AI would be a factor one day. Chase should have targeted this at the company, not my children.” A fist formed a moment before he unclenched it. In the past, you would have flinched, expecting a hit, just like your father did before Bruce. His features softened, only a fraction. “I wanted to wait until you got home to break the news to you about the rumors so you would hear it from me first.”
Wow, that was weirdly emotionally aware for him. Sort of hard to be mad at him when he was.
“I’ll make sure to make it clear to the press that while you do have family privileges in the company, I hire based on skill, no matter what,” he went on. “I’ll put a stop to this.”
Taking a seat on the chair across from him, you slumped into it with a sigh. “How could Hastings do this? Obviously, it’s just to make up fake rumors about us! Wouldn’t that make him look worse in the end?”
“Usually, people pay more attention to whatever is the most entertaining, even if it’s not true,” he responded. “Eventually, they always blow over until a new one shows up. I had hoped you would never have to be involved.”
“Idiots,” you muttered. “How could he be so petty as to make stupid rumors just because of a business deal?”
“Chase has always been more impulsive,” Bruce said. “Not thinking in the long term. It’s why we cut ties with his company years ago.”
“Obviously!” you exclaimed. “Impulsive is making data centers that are going to get rid of all your water. Which I guess a lot of companies are right now, even LexCorp.”
Changing the subject, he asked. “Any updates on where Ivy may be hiding?”
“No. Babs has been keeping an eye out. Nothing yet, and Tim only found some evidence near the botanical gardens, which can’t be any good. I’m sure Harley knows, but there’s no use in asking. She won’t snitch on Ivy,” you explained. “My studies have been too busy to check in with the leads.”
A lie. All the time you had been spending in your room, avoiding everyone, was for “studies.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. Had he picked up on the lie? After all, lying to Batman wasn’t an easy task.
Instead of mentioning anything, he went on, “I’ll have Duke and Damian speak with the botanical gardens today to see if they sighted her. How have you been handling the pollen exposure? Any signs of effects, or is immunity still likely?” he asked with what you could have sworn was a hint of worry underneath it all. No, it was just trying to gather information on the case. When there was a big one, it was all he could focus on. Nothing more.
“I’m fine,” you lied through your teeth. Another lie. Right now, you were still cold from the pollen from last night’s fight despite taking two showers.
How many more would you tell? They were already growing tangled, knotting together into thorny vines. All you wanted to do right now was curl up in bed with more heat packs. Another part of you wished Bruce would be everything he wasn’t. To act like a normal father, who would say something comforting rather than give some sort of vague advice about justice or wherever. To actually say he was proud of you for once instead of a slight nod of approval when you worked non-stop to keep your grades up and protect Gotham while falling apart.
Probably the pollen talking. Usually, you were satisfied with Bruce’s parenting. After all, he was somehow more involved in your life than your previous father had been. Anyone was better than the people in the lab.
When you spend your life without being served any love, you’ll risk taking it off a knife.
Quietly, you added, “I think I understand why Ivy a bit more.”
A shadow seemed to pass over his face as he stood up straighter. “Anyone can sympathize with Ivy’s motivations, even myself, but we can’t agree with her methods. We do things the way we do for a reason,” he said in a stern tone.
You knew the code all of you lived by, but a restlessness stirred in you. “Do you ever consider finding justice in other ways?” you asked hesitantly. “If we took things a little farther, then maybe we could stop things for good.”
For a moment, all he could see was Jason. Seeing Jason become Red Hood after his resurrection was painful. Not because it went against everything he believed in. Of course, that was always the center of their conflicts, although it had very little to do with why he struggled to accept Red Hood. It was because he had to watch the sweet little boy he had once raised twist into an angry, hurting stranger. Jason’s body may have been resurrected, but he wasn’t the same person anymore.
Afterward, he swore he would make sure nobody went down the same path. From the moment Bruce had found you in that lab, he recognized the anger you carried around. A temper he had seen before. Yet, beneath it all, he saw your refusal to become the weapon they had created, and that’s when he knew he couldn’t abandon you, as much as he wanted to avoid the risk of raising another. There was also no avoiding your becoming a vigilante either. You had the heart for it. So, he needed to find the words to stop this. Unfortunately, he was never good with those and went with the driest response possible.
Bruce narrowed his gaze. “Consequences need to be considered. Risks to access,” he replied. “Revenge and getting justice are not the same thing.”
“What if-”
“No,” he cut you off. “It’s not what we do.” Frustrated, you got up from your seat and turned towards the door, ready to slam it behind you. Bruce watched as you were about to leave, his mind racing with what to say.
You paused for a moment when he added, “I won’t always agree with everything you do, but the manor is always here. You’re my daughter. That’s final.”
Daughter. You froze. The title had never been addressed outside of legal and formal situations. On paper, you were his daughter. At galas, he introduced you as his daughter and heir. Yet, in the back of your mind, you wondered if he saw you that way beyond words on a document. After all, you hadn’t called him Dad directly except for one time when you had been seriously injured. Always Bruce, or B. The pollen must be really messing with your head, because as stubborn as you were, you wanted to turn around and call him Dad right now. No, the anger was too strong.
Instead, you lied, “I’ll be going out with some friends tonight.”
A lie within a bigger lie. While at the Academy, many people bullied you, which worried the others a bit. After starting Gotham University, you made up a group of friends to put everyone at ease and “went out” with them often. Going out usually consisted of getting ice cream alone at Batburger.
“Fine,” Bruce sighed. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll have Tim cover your patrol tonight.”
Guess you had gotten better at lying, just like your mom.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
10 years ago…
“The move to Gotham will be best for us! It’s a new start!” your mother beamed as the two of you drove down the highway, late at night. Boxes and bags were piled high in the trunk, which had been secretly loaded over the past few weeks.
A lie. Well, a lie wrapped in a truth. Leaving for Gotham would be a new start. Anything was better than living with your father any longer. The very reason you had to leave was because of another lie your mother had been telling for years. A living lie. Yourself.
During the 3rd grade, you had flung a rock at a boy after catching him trying to hurt an injured sparrow, terrifying him so much that he left it alone. Except you hadn’t thrown it. Rather, it hovered and went flying toward him the angrier you got. The principal brushed it off as childish imagination when he insisted the rock floated in thin air, but the nickname “witch” stuck with your tormentors for years after. No matter how fake it seemed, your mother knew and got you tested as a metahuman right away.
“Don’t worry, the tests came back negative.” Another lie. One to protect you. While the world now saw many metahumans as heroes, a few still harbored hatred for anything different. An enemy to the human legacy, and unnatural. The most extreme of these called for getting rid of all metahumans. Your father, the one before Bruce who had been married to your mother, had been one of those people.
Every day, you had to endure his hateful words in silence and bite your tongue. Suppress your powers. A stubborn part of you wanted to show him. To yell at him and say, “Look! You created the very thing you hate!” Yet, you kept quiet until the moment arrived to leave. Living in that home felt like being a bird, trapped in a gilded cage.
Years later, you would wonder if it had been him who tipped off the mob group that sold you to the lab, even if there was no evidence of it.
So, yes, living in Gotham would be better, but it was still Gotham. Everyone knew it was full of crime, with killer clowns or thieves making headlines on the daily. It would be a place nobody would think to look. Your mother had found an old townhouse for the two of you to live in, with the dusty studio apartment above to be your room, all to yourself. As nice as it was, you would still miss the stars you could see at your old home. Here, the city lights drowned even the brightest of them out. At least the vigilantes were there. Maybe if you were lucky, you would catch a glimpse of Nightwing or Batgirl one day, just like the people in the comics you read!
Months passed, and you never saw any vigilantes, but at least you could breathe here. As your mother put away a few groceries, you were busy focusing on homework in your room. Getting A’s was the least you could do for her after all she had sacrificed. A knock at the door tore you from the math problem.
“Pizza must be early,” you heard your mother say from downstairs, going for the door.
“Hey!” you called down. “Do you think we could watch a movie tonight? Maybe that one about Superman?”
“Sure!” she shouted back, then grew quiet. A few minutes passed by. By now, the pizza would be here, and she would have called you down. Immediately, you bounded down the stairs, a bad feeling in your gut. When you reached the kitchen, you found your father standing there, anger written across his face. Shouts followed, and you froze mid-step.
How? How could he have found you? The next few moments went by in a blur when you saw him raise a fist at your mother. No, you didn’t even hesitate. Running, you stood between him and your mother, snatching his wrist mid-air. His eyes widened in shock, as if he had expected you to stay quiet, as always.
“No,” you said, voice quivering with anger. “You don’t get to do this anymore.” A rage you had kept buried for long crept up, making its way to the surface. Objects began floating around the room, hovering in his direction. He stepped back, letting go of you with a mix of hatred and fear in his eyes.
Quickly, your mother grabbed you, shielding you close.
“She’s…she’s a-” he stuttered, looking around. “I never asked for a freak for a daughter! Didn’t want one of them!”
“Leave!” you screamed. “Get out of here and don’t come back.” He paused. “Leave!” you shouted, raising your voice higher. Fear filled his eyes, and it sent a sense of satisfaction over you that you had never felt before. For once, he was the one who got to be afraid. Not you.
Turning, he left and slammed the door behind him. Your mother rushed over and locked it before turning to you, eyes misty.
Taking your shoulders, she stared at you as she pleaded, “Promise me one day you’ll take care of yourself. Don’t end up like me. Save yourself and don’t wait for anyone else to.” Her fingers dug into your shoulders, tightening a bit.
All you could do was stare. The silence seemed to bother her.
“People like in your comics aren’t real!” she shouted, then managed to soften her voice a bit. “Nobody comes to save you. Save yourself. Promise me you will, please!” she begged. “Don’t end up like me.”
“I will,” you promised. A vow you kept from then on.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Present…
“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself as you rummaged around underneath the mattress, looking for your suit. Alfred was always annoyed that you kept it hidden there, and Tim insisted it was an identity risk, but keeping it outside the cave was perfect for tonight’s like tonight. Contacting Ivy wasn’t an issue, since you asked Barbara to find it, claiming it would help with tracking her down, and Ivy had agreed quickly since she was more than eager to get her hands on Hastings.
“Perhaps this is what you’re looking for?” Alfred asked from the doorway, startling you and nearly making you fall backward. Quickly, you put on a normal face. “I’m just looking for a bracelet I lost, is all,” you said in the most convincing tone you could manage, until your eyes landed on the freshly washed and pressed suit folded in his hands at the top of a pile of laundry. No use in lying now. Not that there ever was with Alfred.
“Fine, I was,” you admitted. “I’ll fold it better from now on.”
“Considering it is a state-of-the-art suit, I would suggest taking better care of it,” he huffed, placing it on the dresser. “There’s room in the Cave, and I should hope you are more responsible than to hide things.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” you said, crossing your arms. “At least, nothing more than the usual secret identity stuff.”
“I suppose not, considering you’ll be busy with your friends tonight,” he noted with a raised eyebrow, and you knew what he was getting at. Bruce must have mentioned you would be going out tonight. Alfred was the only one who knew the friends were made up since you had often confided in him, or more like vented, about how others avoided you on campus, so he had caught you up in your lies.
“Please don’t tell Bruce,” you asked. No use in trying to hide anything from Alfred. Years of practice made him an expert in knowing exactly when someone was up to something.
“It’s not my place to tell,” he said. “Now, considering I have been washing pollen out of clothes all week, the least you could do is join me in the garden to help weed the rose bushes. Besides, I think you need to ‘touch grass.’ You’ve been hiding in your room all week.”
Okay, so now he was guilt-tripping. Admittedly, you were easy when it came to chores. Sitting back and watching someone else constantly clean up your messes was the one part of being rich you could never get used to.
“I should never have taught you slang,” you sighed, reluctantly following behind.
A few moments later, your fingers were deep in the cool soil, dirt underneath your fingertips. The breeze carried a light scent of flowers, mingling with the smell of the rich soil. While you weren’t exactly a fan of the dirt, you didn’t mind it either. Carefully, you wove your hand between the thorns, trying to avoid getting scratched. They were the trickiest part of working with roses, but it was worth it.
Spending time in the manor’s gardens with Alfred was always peaceful as the two of you worked side by side wordlessly as he worked at the rose bush next to you with his gardening hat on. It was strange seeing the butler in anything but a suit for once.
When you needed advice, he would give it, or an ear if you just wanted to vent, but the best part about gardening was the quiet. Living in a manor full of vigilantes coming and going, or siblings arguing, left very few moments for silence. Nobody visited the gardens often, and at one point, Bruce considered closing it away for good.
After particularly long weeks, the two of you would work for hours saying nothing to one another until the weeds had all been plucked.
Today, however, you were in the mood to chat.
Tugging at a particularly stubborn weed, you said, “So that was what the argument was about.”
“I can assure you that Master Bruce has had the same thoughts many times in the past,” Alfred said. “Eventually, he figures it out. Perhaps consider why you feel that way now.”
“I just want to stop all this,” you answered. “To fix the world’s problems caused by people like Hastings and put an end to all this.”
Alfred held out a gloved hand, silently asking for the trowel as you handed it to him. “Why, I never knew you thought so highly of yourself, Miss,” he said with an air of sarcasm. “I thought you were more humble than that.”
“Excuse me?” you asked, caught off guard, and stared at him.
“Your job is to protect the city. Did you truly think you could solve all the world’s problems?” he questioned. “This family has been defending it for years, and bad things still happen. The Justice League may have saved the world quite a few times, but even they can’t solve every problem in the world.”
Carefully, he trimmed around the base of one of the bush’s branches, inspecting the bright red petals. “Every year, a few of these roses wilt, no matter how much I care for them. Rather than focus on the ones I lose, I focus on which ones bloomed.”
Okay, so you got the point he was getting at, but it didn’t make you any less frustrated.
“What about all the AI videos?” you countered, finally pulling the weed out with one strong tug. “Am I supposed to ignore that?”
“I have seen your father face much worse rumors, and they always go away eventually,” Alfred said. “Although I do hope whatever you have planned ends with Hastings getting his bloody arse kicked.”
“Alfred!” you exclaimed in shock. Honestly, you didn’t know he even knew any bad words, as ridiculous as it seemed.
Standing up, he brushed the dirt off his clothes and replied. “I may know etiquette, but that doesn’t mean I’m above using language when needed. Now I think I will go get us some refreshments. Lemonade?”
As he turned to get the tray, he stopped a moment, staring at the roses growing on the garden’s walls. Last year, you had discovered them while exploring the grounds, petals dry and brown from wilting as they clung to the stone with what little they had left. For some reason, the flowers had bothered you, so you did some research and found a way to bring them back to normal. Now they had nearly doubled in size, petals bright with a dusty pink.
“My, that’s quite odd.”
“What is?” you asked, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.
“Those flowers haven’t bloomed in years,” he commented, almost astounded. “Master Bruce was very fond of them as a child, and I tried everything, but they’ve been dying more each year.” Quietly, he added, “Martha grew them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you began. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would have left them alone.”
“No bother,” he interrupted, handing you a glass of the lemonade. “I’m sure she would be happy to know someone was caring for them. Mrs. Wayne did adore her roses very much.”
“Guess that means some wilted roses can bloom again,” you suggested.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he nodded. “Maybe I focused so long on the successful bushes, I failed to consider the wilted ones.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·