Chapter Text
Almost two days, 40 hours of straight driving Cass’ been doing and Jason’s sure it’s not good for her, but she’s done it anyways. Perhaps afraid if she stops driving they won’t get any further east than they have.
Jason doesn’t know if he’s glad or angry anymore that he let himself be dragged along. It’s happened and he’s just a mess emotion-wise. Proving she’s the far better person Cass’ been very understanding—granted she’s been going through the same thing, if writ far larger than his own emotional turmoil. Damian meanwhile’s been almost silent the whole time, seeming more intent on keeping track of the kittens than things like eating and sleeping.
If Jason weren’t so wrapped up in himself at the moment he’d be worried about that, however as it stands Jason gets a nice heaping pile of guilt every time he watches Cass step up to take care of it. She shouldn’t have to in her state but Jason just...can’t.
Even through his turmoil something in him skips a beat when he sees the ‘Welcome to Gotham County’ sign, they’re close. So close.
It might not be the first time he’s been back in Gotham since his resurrection, but that doesn’t mean he’s not caught up in some strange form of excitement. Gotham wouldn’t have changed since then, but it was still Gotham, still his home. Not even anger and grief can change that.
Barely an hour later Gotham comes into view, shining with bloody brightness from the setting sun. A fitting welcome Jason thinks.
Unexpectedly Cass doesn’t drive north towards the Manor, but further east until they’re somewhere in the Fashion District. “Where’re we going?” Damian frowns at the city around them, seeming to survey it and find that it’s not at all what he expected. Gotham wasn’t all gloom and thunder, it had its sunshine and blue skies too.
“Shopping,” Cass answers as she looks for parking. “We don’t have the right clothes for tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Batman’s memorial is tomorrow. Tomorrow, and how were they going to be able to do this?
Cass finds a spot and it’s clear she has a destination already in mind from the way she walks.
“What about the kittens?” If Jason were in his right frame of mind he’d probably smile at that.
“If we take more than an hour you can go back and check on them,” her tone is patient. “Come on, we’re cutting it close as it is.”
Coventry Tailors is the name of the shop she pulls them into. Something at it tugs at Jason’s memory, but he can’t quite place it. Not until a man steps out from behind the counter and smiles broadly. “Miss Wayne, it’s been some time since we’ve last seen you.”
Jason’s been here before too, GA uniform fittings and Alfred’s very pointed insistence that, even with puberty around the corner, Jason should own a good suit. He doubts the people here will recognize him on the other hand.
Discomfort ripples through Cass, and Jason finds himself reacting to it. Stepping towards her and resting a hand at the small of her back, just a reminder. Her lips twitch in a smile. “It’s good to see you too, Marcus.” She steps away from Jason and she and Marcus bisoux. “I’m sorry for such the late and short notice, but we need something for tomorrow.”
“Ah.” It seems she doesn’t need to expand on it more than that. Granted Gotham’s appeared more subdued Jason’s managed to notice. He’s pretty sure he’d even seen some people with black armbands with little yellow bats. A whole city in mourning for its hero. “Well, you Waynes are known for asking the impossible and getting it,” Marcus’ smile is wan. “I do however think two complete suits are beyond our capacity, dare I suggest picking something off the rack and getting it fitted?” He eyes Jason and Damian. “As for a dress, that I could do in twelve hours.”
Cass smiles. “That will be fine,” it’s strange to see her as a Wayne instead of herself. Although he can tell she’s borrowing from Bruce’s own persona.
“Than this way, Miss Wayne.” He gestures towards the back. “If you sirs would like help I can call Hannah to provide assistance.”
“No,” Jason’s voice is a little rusty from not doing much talking, but he manages. “We’ll be fine..”
Marcus and Cass disappear into the back and Jason feels lost for a second. Too used to being around Cass.
“These are better quality than I thought they would be,” Damian’s voice comes from the right. Turning Jason sees him flipping through the smaller suits.
Jason finds a hint of a smile cross his face. He doesn’t say anything in response, walking over to a different rack of suits. Even though his hands flip through the suits he stares at them blankly, he hasn’t had to wear a suit in…well he’d probably been in one when he’d woken up in his coffin, but that doesn’t exactly count.
Perhaps he should’ve asked for help. He might remember Alfred’s rules on how to pick the best suit, but that’d been as a kid, not as an adult.
“I don’t know why you’re looking at the mediums, Todd, when you’re a large,” despite the words Damian’s voice is far from cutting. “I’m sure you’ve worn a suit before.”
“Not... “ It leaves Jason without meaning to.
Damian sighs. “Well I’m sure there’s a stray tape measure lying around here somewhere.” He gives Jason a push. “Larges are that way.”
Even through anger and grief there’s something bemusing about a ten year old being better at picking out suits. Not that Jason’s going to exactly try and stop Damian at this point. It just means...Jason’s not quite sure, except that he trust Damian enough for this.
When Cass, Marcus, and a woman who must be Hannah, come out from the back both he and Damian have their suits picked out—Damian even found bat shaped cufflinks in the display case of them, according to him they were gaudy but appropriate. Then comes their own fittings and Jason’d forgotten how boring they were.
“They’ll be ready for pickup in the morning.” Marcus smiles. “Even if it was unfortunate circumstances it was good to see you again, my dear. Tell your father and Mr. Pennyworth I said hello.” The words send a pang through Jason that’s probably shared by Cass and Damian. After all the world only thinks Batman is dead, not Bruce Wayne. On the drive to Gotham Damian had insisted on looking up to see what the family might be doing to make sure no one knew the connection.
Turned out ‘Bruce Wayne’ was in town, even planning on attending the memorial tomorrow. Jason’s more than willing to bet it’s J’onn and it hurts to see the lie, as important as it is.
Back in the truck Cass once again doesn’t point them north, she drives back west. Stopping when they reach a middle of the road hotel.
“Why are we staying here when we could be going to the Manor?” Now Damian sounds offended.
Yet Cass is just as patient with him. “We’ll go there tomorrow, after the memorial.”
Damian frowns, but doesn’t protest that at least. “Why did he call you, miss Wayne?” It’s not quite anger in his voice.
Cass keeps her focus on the road. “Because Bruce adopted me too Damian.”
-
Cass awakes in the morning to the sound of rain. With a soft laugh she rises, Gotham pulling out all her stops it seems.
It’s no surprise to see Damian up already, his eyes are red from crying and she wishes he’d relax enough that she could give him the hug he needs. Even after almost four months together however he’s still fairly prickly. So she has to settle on reaching out and squeezing his shoulder as she passes him.
By the time she finishes her shower and dries her hair Jason’s awake. None of them speak as they move around each other, the silence—save for the occasional cat utterance—fitting. They finish packing up and head back to the truck, only stopping to buy umbrellas from the gift shop.
It’s raining hard enough that the truck’s wipers struggle to keep the windshield clear, thankfully there’s not much in the way of traffic at the moment. It helps that seemingly every store and office building they pass is closed.
Coventry’s is open though, perhaps only because they need to pick up their clothes, Marcus even thoughtful enough to put them in waterproof wrappings.
Two hours before the service. Cass drives aimlessly, they probably should get something to eat, but she doubts if she suggested it she’d get agreement. Jason and Damian in their own grief-filled worlds. There is perhaps some irony in her being the most focused after everything that’s happened, but one of them has to be, and for now she can set aside her grief.
Even if they don’t eat anything she knows they’ll have to change clothes eventually, and a diner would work better than a store. The problem is finding an open one. She gets a bit of luck in that department, finding one only a few minutes later. Then comes poking and prodding Damian and Jason to come with her, then into the bathroom to change into their suits.
She orders a large basket of fries and a chocolate milkshake while they change—once they’re done she’ll change herself.
The milkshake and fries have arrived by the time they do exit. She’s already eaten a few herself, old memories of Steph and Tim introducing her to the concept years ago now filling her.
“Eat,” her words break the silence they’ve shared for hours now. Damian’s eyes narrow as she demonstrates, but he doesn’t reject it outright. Grabbing her own bag of clothes she heads into the women’s restroom.
Even after a few years in the League she’s never gotten used to wearing dresses, the whole of it just...weird to her. Marcus knows her preferences though, so while it’s a dress, it’s done in a flapper style, relatively shapeless and easy enough to move in should she have to fight. Her hands smooth down the wool as something like a sigh leaves her. This isn’t at all how she imagined her return to Gotham, but they’re all going to have to live with it now.
She finds she dreads more going to the Manor afterwards than the ceremony itself, too unsure of what reception she’ll receive, or how everyone will react to Jason and Damian. Steph might have taken it in her stride, but then she’d never known Jason before, or even heard of Damian. It’s going to be...interesting.
Stepping out of her shoes into the flats she’d gotten along with the dress, she packs up all her old clothes and steps out. Relieved to see a good chunk of the fries’ve been eaten. She joins Jason on his side of the booth, pressing her shoulder into his arm as she eats some more herself. He pushes back, but keeps silent.
When the clock says eleven thirty she tosses a twenty on the table and they leave. Soon joining the flood of others on their way to the Memorial.
The Botanical Gardens themselves are packed tight with people, screens have been set up for those not lucky enough to make it to the where the actual service is held. Not for a lack of trying however, people pushing and trying to elbow their way closer to the closed coffin and the heroes surrounding it.
Those people don’t have the same sort of training the three of them do however. Even with the added sea of umbrellas to contend with, they move seamlessly with the crowd getting ever closer to the front.
As they move she finds herself spotting all sorts of people. Penguin, Catwoman, Scarface, Harvey, Poison Ivy, with Harley next to her causing a minor scene with how loud her crying is.
Bullock, Montoya, other beat cops and detectives from the GCPD. They know the villains are here, but it’s clear Batman’s death has created a sort of truce. She also doubts anyone’s likely to cause a scene with the heroes they’d have to deal with. Well, unless you were the Joker, but he’s wonderfully absent so far. She prays he never does show up, if only for Jason’s sake.
Finally the three of them stop, they could try to push closer, and for a moment Damian does—before both she and Jason stop him—but the likelihood of them being spotted goes up if they get any closer.
They can see everything from here anyways. The closed coffin, Superman, Wonder Woman, Nightwing, Oracle, Batgirl—something like pride swells in her to see Steph as Batgirl, even if the touches of purple will take some getting used to—Red Robin, Huntress. Nearby is Alfred and ‘Bruce’ too, talking quietly with Gordon. She’s sure if she looked she’d find other heroes around, but she can’t stop staring at the coffin, Batman’s cape and cowl covering it.
Neither she nor Jason have let go of Damian, and she can feel him tremble under her hand as Superman clears his throat, the whole garden falls silent, all eyes on the Man of Steel.
Eulogy after eulogy, memory after memory. Cass isn’t the only one crying by the end of it.
Some part of her wishes she could be up there though, to give her own accounting of the Batman she knew. Even though she won’t say a word she picks out what she’d say. How she admired his unwavering loyalty to his oath, to Justice. How, despite so many appearances to the contrary, willing he was to give second chances. The love he had for his city and his family, though he’d hardly shown the latter.
Batman might be dead, but she’s certain one of them will take up the mantle. The idea and story will live on. Bruce would’ve wanted it that way.
Then it’s over. Oh there’s the service tomorrow at the Hall of Justice, but it’s not the one that matters. Batman was Gotham’s hero, here is where those that loved him best would mourn and remember.
Jason’s eyes meet hers and he tilts his head towards the coffin, she finds herself nodding. With care they guide Damian closer, again moving with the crowd, making it harder for them to be spotted.
When they reach it Cass goes first, recalling the first time she’d seen it spread out behind him.
This one is new, untouched by bullets or any threats. Yet it feels the same as she rest her hand atop it, runs her and across it as she walks past. Turning she stands and waits for Jason and Damian.
Jason goes next, his whole body trembling, his hand goes out but he hesitates. Fingers shaking as he wars with himself, anger and grief, betrayal and forgiveness. It’s Jason’s choice what he chooses but she has her hopes. The dead owed you nothing save the memories you held of them, and she does not want that bitterness in Jason to become his whole being.
His hand touches the cape, fabric bunching as he grips it tight. She almost expects him to tear it off, except his fingers relax and he lets go, his trembling easing as he continues walking. He comes to a stop next to her and links his hand with her own.
-
Damian doesn't know what to feel as he approaches the empty coffin of his father.
All he has of the man are stories and his mother’s plans. How he was supposed to succeed father in being Batman, finally spread the League’s order to Gotham before Damian eventually took over as the head of the League itself.
Except now the League is in tatters, he doesn’t know where mother is, his father is dead, and Damian is far to young to be Batman—as much as he might want it now.
All those plans dashed..
His hand trembles in a mix of grief and awe as he reaches out for the cape, fingers brushing away the water beading on it, although it doesn't do much in this rain. He wishes he could’ve seen it on father, what a living thing it must have been. He wishes he could’ve seen the power and strength father wielded, and not the least of him.
Yet as much as it might be possible for some, time travel is not within Damian’s grasp yet. All he’ll have now are the stories and memories.
Cain’s smile is wan as he approaches her and Todd. Which brings a whole other tangle of emotions, because mother had never mentioned that father’d taken Cain in too. And why hadn’t she? Cain seems disinclined to lie where it matters, so she must be telling the truth—he guesses soon enough they’ll find out. So why did mother keep that from him when she’d, supposedly, told him everything else?
It does not make him doubt his mother, but it engenders...distrust and it disturbs him. He’s sure she had her reasons for keeping the truth from him, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
“Come on, kiddo.” Todd’s free hand comes to rest between Damian’s shoulder blades and he should protest, but the warmth of it is comforting. “Let’s go introduce you to the rest of this fucked up family.”