Chapter Text
Bruce stared at the view out through his window, the city beckoning in front of him that reminded him of Gotham. Yet that wasn’t the forefront thing of his mind, for once.
Talia’s words still echoed in his head.
“But he is not the child of Ra’s al Ghul.” She whispered in his ear, chill creeping down his spine at the shock of a knife twisting into his ribs. “The child is mine .”
Bruce’s eyes widened. His heart pounded rapidly, never ceasing, the sound continually building as a gut-wrenching sensation of fear and uncertainty crept into his bones. The implications…
“…Our little Danyal.” She finished sweetly, confirming his fears.
“Talia…” He breathed. Why? That one question began to devour his mind.
Bruce closed his eyes. If there was one thing he regretted the most, it would be not having the chance to meet his son, Danyal. Unfortunately, Talia had perished before he can demand answers from her. It was still a daunting revelation that had shocked him, that she had just dropped a bomb on him. She had never said a word or a message that she was with a child last he saw her before she arrived in Gotham. And because of that, even in her death, she was cruel to the last of her breath – as if mocking him with a dangling child that Bruce could never reach.
Why? Why didn’t she tell me? Those were the questions that echoed in his head. Even the image of her smirking made him nearly want to punch the wall and threw all those vases and plates away. To rage the world.
Nothing he can do would bring him answers.
It really wasn’t fair that Talia did this to him. That she only said so on the brink of her death, and he was forced, once again, to focus on saving his city. Forcing this emotional torrent brooding from within down. Every single fight. With every single step, it became harder and harder to carry, as if the knowledge had weight him down. That it became too heavy as his mind became trapped in almost a dreamlike state, that not even a kiss from Selina could wake the shocking revelation Talia brought upon him.
A son that he never knew.
There was a twisted sense that Alfred was right—that Gotham would be the end of him.
To be fair, he truly believed that he would die—with his last thought of his son whom he didn’t get a chance to meet. But here he was alive and breathing, escaping the limelight once again. It was better this way since his city nearly perished because of him.
And it also allowed an opportunity to go looking for his son, without the League of Shadows watching from afar. His paternal instincts screaming at him—Go! Look for him. Search for him!
He doesn’t have any information or clue about his son’s whereabouts. He refused to believe his child was dead, Talia didn’t seem to think so since she referred to their son in present tense. Just the name Danyal sent a pang across his chest, his insides felt like it was hit with a bone-crushing force when he had plummeted toward the bottom of the pit. It hit too close of the thought when Bruce lost his parent as a child, and the image of little Danyal cold and lonely, as an orphan, had Bruce determined that he would not allow his son to share the same fate he went through.
But he doesn’t even know what Danyal looked like. He can only assume his son had the combination looks of him and Talia. Who did Danyal take after? Did he have blue eyes like his or the shade of green like his mother? He hated that he was going to rely on his instincts on this one—surely a father would know their own child once he saw him?
But then, he never even knew he had a child, to begin with. That left a bitter taste in his mouth, cursing internally at his own past actions and choices.
An image of what he imagined Danyal to look like flickered in his mind. A child with bright blue eyes, with long messy black hair that can’t seem to stay still, giggling with such innocence that sent a warm feeling across Bruce’s chest.
It didn’t really matter because any child of Bruce, he would cherish them forever. Love them forever.
He could go back to the Pits and ask the prisoners questions, but he doubted it since he left them an escape route. Why didn’t the doctor mention what the child looked like? But then again, they all thought the child was Bane. How long ago was it since Danyal escaped? How old was Danyal?
Considering it’s been so long since Bruce left the League of Shadows and that the last he saw of Talia, Danyal had to be 14 years old more or less.
He didn’t ever expect that he would one day be a father. It had never crossed his mind, not unless you count the lingering daydreams of painting a white fence with Rachel by his side, with a couple of children that looked just like her, running around the backyard, giggling as he chased after them…a little mix of him and Rachel. But that dream had long ago ended eight years ago since her death, that vision crumbling before his eyes.
Though he didn’t think if he would ever have a child, it would be with Talia. But then again, he was young and full of grief and anger for the injustice that happened to his parents. Talia had been the only person at the League around his age, her warm green eyes comforting him, full of understanding of this need to let out this burning vengeance through his fist, unaware that she was the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul. After that short but passionate moment, she left without a word. Last he heard, she went back to Tibet.
He wondered, for one brief moment, why Ra’s never mentioned his grandchild. But based on the timeline, he had condemned Danyal to the Pits as some kind of punishment. But what? And where would Danyal have gone after the escape? To Talia? But he never caught a single glimpse of a teen during his fight, not even a hint of a shadow.
Except…
There was a flicker of something, in the corner of his eye, during that time. As if someone was watching him, but he had always been distracted before he can investigate that feeling when someone suddenly came running to hit him.
Could it be?
There was also another moment, but he thought it was a hallucination. It was possible that Danyal had been there…but why didn’t he ever reveal his presence? Did he know that Bruce was his father? He found it hard to imagine that Talia never told Danyal based on the amount of planning for vengeance against him for Ra’s al Ghul. Unless her soft side, the ones he had glimpsed years ago, prevented Danyal from ever taking a step toward Gotham. Then again, she allowed their own child to be exiled to the Pits.
That thought had him clenching his fists. Already imagining the ways he wished he could have killed her for what she did. Answers that were on the tip of her tongue, gone from his reach.
If there was a God, a hint was what Bruce needed. A direction to where Danyal was.
He had scoured across the database. The name Danyal brought nothing. A hundred pictures of a boy named Danyal, from adolescence to mid-teens but nothing seemed to truly hit him with familiarity. It shouldn’t surprise Bruce that the League of Shadows would never allow that kind of information.
There was only one lead that Bruce can check. He hoped that cameras during the riot in Gotham still worked. Otherwise, he’s not sure what he would do if he reached another dead end.
Despite his convoluted state of mind, Bruce knew one thing for certain—he was never going to be the same ever again.
…
Danyal knew immediately that something was different.
It wasn’t that putrid smell of his apartment, though he seriously needed to complain to his landlord about those water stains leaking on his ceilings. It certainly wasn’t the lack of peacefulness with the sound of cars honking through a barely manageable window that not even his tattered curtains can block the sounds, nor the sound of his neighbors arguing outside his room that always disturbed his sleep. Those things were the least of his worries now as his blue eyes scanned the crevices of the floorboard, trying to decipher this sense of something odd going on.
It wasn’t the first time he’s got this eerie feeling as if he was being watched. Yet no matter how discreetly he looked for it, nothing was there. It has been going on recently these past few weeks
He sighed as he took out his scarf, and tried his best to at least keep the window shut.
He still wasn’t used to this, despite the years of being alone, for living in a place for longer periods of time—the Pits and his training did not count—but Danyal could manage. Sort-of. He had some odd jobs there to keep some steady income (he wasn’t exactly struggling financially, but better safe and sorry). The only thing he hated was social interaction. Small talks, gossip, you name it—something that Danyal was never trained for if it wasn’t mission-related.
But a variety of networks was important for his cover. And Danyal, at least, had some practice with mendacity, but he had no patience for these kinds of things usually—his time at the Pit was the true fault. Danyal refused to blame that it was a character flaw of his—he’d rather use his fists through it than discuss the weather. If this was what normal people talked about, he dreaded his future indeed. Danyal was more likely to die of boredom, of all things.
The sound of arguing outside had Danyal’s lips curled upwards, pondering if he can go out and use the excuse to throw a punch at one of his neighbors. It’s such a thing to do, right? Complaints were a norm here since this building had all sorts of problems, and one of them was rat problems, but if those damn neighbors couldn’t bother calling pest control, then he would have to live with it.
Something prickled his acute senses. Hairs standing on the back of his neck. His blue eyes narrowed, his hand slowly reaching out his knife hidden from his sleeve.
A knife wedged the wall—barely nicking the woman’s ear, unfazed.
Danyal’s eyes flickered with recognition, his lips curled in displeasure. Of course. “Waller.”
“Daniel.” She returned, unamused.
It was the closest name Waller could find. And call Danyal sentimental—but he can’t quite let go of his real name even on the run. But no matter how many names he had used, he was forced to use the name Daniel a couple of times. To his displeasure, it was the closest acceptable name here in English.
Waller lifted her gaze to Danyal’s tense shoulders, and her eyes narrowed at his stance. Danyal has the sudden suspicion that she can see straight through to his deception—that she knew who he was, where he came from, and who his parents were exactly.
But she shouldn’t. At least, not really. The League of Shadows always kept watch of the secret organization, to make sure it never existed in their database if what Danyal heard was true. And there can never be a paper trail of Danyal Al Ghul, not after Grandfather made sure of that—though it was less out of courtesy and more to hide something shameful and weakness. Besides, Danyal nowadays always goes with different aliases wherever he went.
But he never quite managed to shake ARGUS off permanently. Always a step behind him.
Still, he waited for the word. She didn’t disappoint.
“You need a better apartment,” she eyed the stains on his ceiling.
Danyal shrugged. “It has some character.”
“Hmmm.”
As much as he wanted to play a ring around the rosie with Waller, he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods, “What exactly is it you want this time? Some cargo smuggling, drugs, shylocking—which, as you can see, I can barely afford to do so—prostitution, or perhaps a good ol’ assassination?”
Waller ignored his snark. “You’re needed somewhere else.”
“And you never miss the water until the well runs dry, huh?” He said dryly. “Listen, I’m not one of your agents, you haven’t exactly fulfilled your payment last time. Speaking of which, what is this personal little visit? You don’t exactly leave your little headquarters. I’m sorry that I can’t exactly accommodate your needs—I don’t exactly know how to be a host these days.” He grinned, sharp canines poking out.
Her eyebrows twitched which sent a sense of victory through him. Score. “I have information about him.”
Just the word flicked his mood, now more serious than ever.
“Where?” he demanded.
“Last located in Amdo a month ago. But he left the area.”
“To where?”
“See, that’s now how it goes, Daniel. I also need something else.” Waller tutted him as if he was a little child who disobeyed his mother.
Quid pro quos.
He gritted his teeth. “And I have been living here happily and peacefully, Amanda.” It would have been easy if money were the issue, but favors have become a thing between him and ARGUS. Some deals. A bit of a quid pro quos. Things that involve personal involvement rather than money, but he lacked the resources, which was his limiting factor.
She grinned. “A fringe benefit, maybe.”
Danyal narrowed his eyes. When it comes to dealing with ARGUS, there were two things to look for: one was the accuracy in reflecting the deal, and the other, was its omissions. Skilled in mendacity, maybe, but it was sometimes difficult to find out what conditions had been left out exactly. It was never quite straightforward with his arrangement with the organization, so Danyal would always come up with multiple possibilities and paths through the structure of the deal and see alternative paths…the process of asking such questions was like one of those things Danyal would see in arcade…what was it called? A pinball. Never definite and always out of chance as the ball goes through the maze—never quite knowing where it would land and what didn’t. Multiple attempts have done just to get the accuracy, and the deal starts to paint a picture, taking an outline, a bit of a shape, some dimension, and a layer of life. When the flaws became clear, you can either erase it and make some adjustments, or come to some sort of compromise by adding another layer to cover up the omission. That’s how drawing works, right? Well, it also applied to deals. Contracts. Favors. Quid pro quos.
His palms began to draw blood as her proposal was heard. She smirked at him as if she knew what he would say.
“Fine.”
“It’s always a pleasure to have business with you, Daniel.”
“I wish I could say it’s mutual, but it’s not.” He bluntly said, crossing his arms as she headed towards the front door.
“Here’s also another bit of information I thought you would be interested in.” She called out. Something about the tone had Danyal tensed, knowing that he wouldn’t like what she said. “Bruce Wayne has been captured.”
Of course ARGUS knew, Danyal cursed internally. How fucking fantastic. How the hell did they know? Though most likely, his looks bare a resemblance to his father, according to mother. Externally, he kept his face hard and stony. “Bruce Wayne is dead, last I heard.”
“You know, he isn’t, Daniel. You know he isn’t.”
There was something that Waller was looking for, but whatever it was, Danyal wasn’t going to give it to her. Perhaps it was the vulnerability? Expecting the news to hit him hard, to weaken him. Vulnerability was the key to predator-prey relationships. But he was not going to allow himself to be her prey in this relationship—HE was the predator rather.
“Don’t disappoint me.” That was all she said before she left. The sound of the door slam sent a vibration that had his curtain rod fall, bringing the cold air into the room.
The tension in Danyal’s shoulder began to uncoil.
Crap.