Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a relatively quiet night in Gotham. Usually Robin would appreciate this, but tonight he would welcome any distraction from the chattering of his brothers in his ear.

“C’mon, Damian—”

“No names in the field, Nightwing.”

“—Robin, we just want to know how your first week at college was!”

“It was fine, just as I told you every day after classes.” He was already starting to wish that he had moved to a dorm instead of staying at the manor, even though it would make his job as Robin more difficult.

“He wants details, baby bird. Like which classes you enjoy or if you’ve made any friends yet.”

“Ha! That’s a funny joke, Red. You know it takes way more than a week for people to warm up to Demon Spawn.”

“I was being optimistic!”

Robin grit his teeth. “Classes are acceptable. The other students act just like my peers at Gotham Academy did.” By that, he meant watching him while his back was turned and either avoiding him or approaching him looking for connections to the rich and famous. “Now will the three of you focus on patrol?”

“Not so fast kid. I want to know why you didn’t go to any parties this weekend. You’re in college, you’re supposed to live it up!”

“I’m turning off my comm now. And don’t call me ‘kid,’ Hood, we both know I’m more mature than you.”

“Batman wouldn’t like that.” Nightwing's attempted reprimand was halfhearted, as if he knew he had already lost the battle.

“Then it’s a good thing Batman isn’t on patrol tonight.” Before Nightwing could respond, Robin pressed a button on the device in his ear, cutting off the voices and leaving him with much-welcomed silence. He didn’t feel too bad about it, knowing that Oracle could override his settings if something urgent came up.

He enjoyed the peace as he ran across rooftops and grappled between buildings, on alert for suspicious sights and sounds from below. This was his first patrol in two weeks; his father had benched him so he could “have time to adjust to this major transition in life” or something. Either way, Robin was glad to be back in the field.

As soon as he landed on the next roof, he glanced over the edge and was met with a somewhat strange sight. Two men were zip tied to poles along the side of the building a few yards apart. They were alternating between yelling at each other and looking around the alley, as if trying to spot something. He was about to jump down and investigate when a flash of light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned silently, only to see a young woman who was definitely not there when he first landed.

A quick scan revealed that she was wearing a skintight suit that was gray around her torso and upper thighs but black along her arms and legs. There were pink accents along the suit, which matched the pink ties holding up her black hair in two—what did Stephanie call them?—space buns. Her mask was also pink, which offset her bright blue eyes. Something wrapped around her waist and dangled behind her, almost like a…tail? The black pendant that hung from her neck caught his eye, but he couldn’t make out anything special about it. What was most concerning, besides the fact that she was unfamiliar and therefore an unknown, was the fact that she was holding a gun.

Still in the shadows, Robin pulled out a birdarang and flung it at the woman. It hit her hand—though it didn’t pierce her suit, he noted—and she dropped the gun with a surprised cry. As she turned, he threw a bolas at her legs, hoping to catch her quickly. She leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding it, and simultaneously unwrapped the tail-like object from her waist and whipped it towards him. It connected around his ankle and she pulled, yanking him off his feet. Rather than hit the ground on his back, he used his momentum to maneuver into a back handspring, forcing her to unwind her—was that a jump rope?—lest he rip it from her hands.

As he landed in a defensive position, out of the shadows now, he heard her gasp. “Robin?”

She stuck her arms out in front of her, palms facing him in a placating gesture. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea it was you! I thought someone was attacking me!”

At her words, he dropped his fighting stance, though he remained wary. “To be fair, I was.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Oh!” She gave him a blinding grin. “You can call me Multimouse.”

That explained the tail. “Really? You chose a mouse theme?”

Multimouse glared. “Like you can talk, little bird.”

“It was a legacy mantle, I didn’t choose it,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Anyway, why are you here?”

She shifted her weight on her feet and clasped her hands behind her back, almost as if she were nervous. “Haha, well, I’m new in town, so I thought I’d go for a quick run, see if anyone needed help, you know, the usual.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And is that why you have a gun?”

“What?” she asked, confused, before a flash of recognition lit up her face. “Oh! That?” She pointed to the gun lying off to the side. “I took that off one of those guys tied up in the alleyway. They looked like they were fighting, and he had just pulled it out when I showed up. Luckily I was able to knock them out before he could use it!” She flashed him another bright smile.

“So, you broke up the fight and took the gun. Now what are you going to do?” he questioned. He was curious to see what her plan was, if only to learn more about her and her abilities.

“I called the police about the two men.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’m not a fan of police, especially not in this country, but I don’t know of any other options right now. I was trying to figure out what to do with the gun when you showed up, because I definitely don’t want to hand it over to them.” Her eyes suddenly widened with excitement. “Wait, you probably know how to safely get rid of it! Can you take it?” As she asked the question, she gently kicked the weapon over to him.

He glanced down at it, then looked back up to her. “I can, if you answer a few questions first.”

Her posture immediately changed. Whereas before she stood tall and confident, she now hunched over and grasped her elbows, as if trying to make herself smaller. “Uh, okay,” she said hesitantly.

“Are you a meta?”

Now she looked confused. “A what?”

“A metahuman,” he said, a bit caught off-guard. Everyone in this country knew what metas were. “Someone who was born with or subsequently developed powers.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m just a regular person,” she replied with a hint of nerves in her voice. That made him even more suspicious, but he decided to move on rather than risk spooking her. She already looked prepared to bolt.

“Where are you from?”

“Not here,” she grinned cheekily.

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Her grin lessened into a smaller, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for the vague answer, but it’s better if people don’t know I’m here.”

He frowned. “Why? Are you on the run?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not. But I really can’t tell you more than that.”

“Fine.” He pulled out his handheld communicator to check the time and send a message to his family. “Patrol is nearly over, so I can take you to meet the rest of my team to verify—”

The strangled laugh that came from Multimouse prompted him to look back up. When he did, he noticed that she had already put distance between them and kept backing up toward the edge of the roof.

“That’s okay!” she said a little too energetically, with a strained smile. He started slowly moving toward her, matching her pace for pace. “I don’t really want to get involved in your business, and I wasn’t even planning on meeting you tonight, or any night, so I think I’m just going to go—”

“WAIT!” he shouted as she leapt off the roof. He sprinted forward, but it was too late. He leaned over the lip of the roof to scan the street below, but there was no sign of her. She had disappeared.

A short while later, he was in the Batcave recounting the interaction to his brothers, father, and pseudo-sisters as they sat around the debriefing table. This included Cassandra and Stephanie, who had not been on patrol but were intrigued by the appearance of a new potential vigilante.

“…and then she jumped off the roof and vanished.”

“What do you mean by ‘vanished’?” Steph asked.

“I mean she could give Father a run for his money.” He shot the man an amused glance while the others laughed. Bruce just rubbed his temple before speaking up.

“What’s your assessment?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, approximately five foot two—” Dick started humming some old jazz song, but Damian ignored him, “—seemed to be around my age, though I’m not certain about that. Her outfit is made of some sort of reinforced material, seeing as the birdarang didn’t cut through it. Despite her odd choice of weapon, she wielded it proficiently; that combined with her agility and reflexes suggests that she has some sort of combat experience.”

Bruce nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

Damian frowned. “She had a flawless American accent, but she made a few comments that implied that she is from another country.”

Tim leaned forward. “Like what?”

“She said something about not liking the police, ‘especially not in this country.’ A weird emphasis, but not damning. However, when I asked if she was meta, she wasn’t familiar with the term.” He looked at Cass, know that she had the most experience operating internationally.

“It’s not common outside America,” she confirmed.

“She seemed nervous once I explained what the word meant. I don’t think her claim to be a regular person was a complete lie, but I believe she was holding back information, information that she does not want us specifically to have,” he concluded.

“So, what are you thinking?” Jason asked. “A powered object, like the lantern ring? A magic user?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Damian admitted. “The only incidences that point toward anything out of the ordinary are the criminals’ statements that they never saw her and how quickly she appeared and disappeared from the roof.”

Everyone sat in silence for a few moments, mulling over this information. Eventually, Barbara spoke up. “I’ll get a search for the name ‘Multimouse’ going. It’ll start in America, if only to rule it out, and go from there.”

“Thank you, Barbara,” Bruce said. “That’s it for tonight. Go take some showers and get some sleep.” He shot a stern look at Tim, who just rolled his eyes before shuffling off.

“And Damian,” he added, causing his son to pause as he left the table, “good work tonight.”

On the outside, Damian just nodded. But on the inside, the part of him that was still that bratty ten-year-old seeking his father’s approval positively glowed.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

Chapter Text

It was a week later, and Robin once again found himself on a relatively tranquil patrol. In fact, it had been quiet all week. To some, it might seem like a respite; to his family, it was the calm before the storm.

He was traveling across the rooftops as usual when he spotted a group of four men following a woman down a dark street. Between the size of the group and the fact that none of them had guns, he deduced that they were likely traffickers. He smiled darkly at the chance to take down some truly despicable people. Using his grappling hook, he swung down into the street, planting his feet in one man’s back and sending him flying into another. When they hit the ground, they were knocked unconscious.

Now he could focus on the remaining two; unfortunately, they were armed with butterfly knives. When one man swiped at him, he deftly dodged, catching the man’s wrist in the process. He squeezed until the trafficker was forced to drop the weapon, which he then kicked away. He punched the man in the face, sending him to the ground, and spun around just in time to grab the wrist of the fourth man, who had tried to sneak up on him. He used the same trick to disarm and take down the man, and then he heard a body hit the ground with a grunt of pain behind him.

He turned once again to see a figure sitting on the legs of the first man he had knocked out, who must have woken up while he was distracted. The person was zip tying the trafficker’s hands behind his back. They were wearing a bodysuit that was brown on their stomach, arms, and legs but faded into black on their back. The dark color masked the equally dark escrima sticks strapped there. They had a black mask covering the top half of their face, and he noticed a collar necklace around their neck. Their hair was tied in a low ponytail that slid over their shoulder as they leaned down.

He was about to demand they identify themselves when they looked up and said, “Hi, little bird.”

He knew that voice. And those eyes. “Multimouse?”

She shook her head as she stood up and walked over to him. “Nope! Tonight, I’m Hund.”

“German?” he asked

“Because I’m the colors of a German Shepherd! Clever, right?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“So you’re dog-themed tonight,” he said, brow furrowing. “Why do you have two different suits?”

She laughed as she moved away and started tying up another guy. “Oh, I have many more than two. Maybe you’ll get to see them all someday,” she winked.

Robin ducked his head as he pulled a couple more zip ties from his belt, hoping to cover up the sudden, inexplicable blush he felt on his cheeks. He made short work of the remaining two traffickers. When he was done, he looked up and was somewhat surprised to see Hund still there.

“I could’ve handled it myself,” he stated, crossing his arms. He was aiming for intimidating, but by Hund’s smirk he could see he failed.

“No need to pout,” she teased, before growing more serious. “I know you could’ve, but I saw you and had to help.”

“Why? You said that you don’t want to meet my team or get involved in our business. To that end, wouldn’t it have been better to stay away from me?” he questioned.

She shrugged. “Yeah, but you know what they say about dogs and loyalty,” she said with a sheepish smile.

“You…feel loyal to me?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

“I mean, you’re the first vigilante I met here,” she answered, rubbing the back of her neck, “and you were kinda nice once you stopped attacking me.”

He let out a disbelieving scoff. “I think you’re the first person to ever describe me as ‘nice.’ But does this loyalty mean you’ll come meet my team?”

“Nice try, but no,” she laughed.

“You know you’re going to run into them one day,” he pointed out.

“Not if I can help it,” she said, walking towards him. She stopped when she was just a foot away. “Besides, I much prefer running into you.”

He raised his eyebrows, once again ignoring the heat on his cheeks. “Are you flirting with me?”

Her grin turned a bit feral. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m trying to ruffle your feathers, so to speak, so you’ll be too distracted to chase me when I disappear.”

“Well it’s not working,” he said, glaring.

“Isn’t it?” And with that, she darted around him. He turned in time to see her bounding up a fire escape and, true to her word disappearing over the rooftops.

He watched in silence, not quite sure what to think. Suddenly, he heard a crackling noise as his comm came to life.

“You know we could hear all of that, right?” Red Robin informed him.

Wonderful. His siblings were going to give him hell the rest of the night. Maybe he actually would start that apartment hunt.

Once again, Damian found himself sitting at the debriefing table about to discuss the mysterious new vigilante. Although this time felt less like a formal report and more like an opportunity for his family to pester him. Especially since Batman was still finishing up his patrol.

“C’mon Little D, level with us: is she cute?” Dick asked enthusiastically.

Jason smirked. “Of course she is, otherwise her distraction wouldn’t have worked.”

“I still can’t believe you had to ask if she was flirting,” Tim said, shaking his head. “I mean, we knew you weren’t good with social situations, but this is worse than we thought.”

“Enough,” Damian hissed, slamming a hand on the table. “Her face is obscured by a mask, so I cannot gauge her physical appearance.”

“That’s not a ‘no,’” Stephanie whispered to Cass.

Damian shot them a glare, then continued. “And her so-called ‘distraction’ was not successful. I considered the options and decided that forcing her to meet everyone would be detrimental to our future working relationship.”

“And your future romantic relationship,” Barbara muttered, earning a high-five from Dick.

He swore he could feel a vein throbbing in his temple. “Lastly, I’m well aware of what flirting is.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then—

“Prove it,” Cass said, eyes glittering dangerously.

He raised an eyebrow. “And how would I do that?”

Jason answered for her. “Next time she flirts with you, flirt back.”

“That would be completely unprofessional.” Damian crossed his arms and tried to mask the anxious feeling the thought gave him.

“Oh please, we all know that Bruce and Selina have done way worse while suited up,” Tim retorted.

Everyone at the table shuddered, thinking of the night that Bruce had forgotten to turn off his comm.

“Anyway, if you’re too scared then you don’t have to do it,” Stephanie said while examining her nails with practiced nonchalance.

Damian scowled. He knew that Steph was baiting him. And he knew that all his siblings knew too. He should just back down, but his pride wouldn’t let him ignore a direct challenge.

“Fine,” he spat, “but once I do this, I will not hear more on the issue, understood?”

His family’s halfhearted replies did little to convince him, but the arrival of his father cut off any further attempts to make them promise their silence.

The older man looked around the table and almost seemed like he was going to ask about the obvious tension, but then he shook his head as if deciding it wasn’t worth it. “Damian, report.”

“It was a quiet night, aside from running into Multimouse, or Hund, as she was calling herself this time. You all heard a majority of the interaction—” his siblings snickered, “—but I will fill in the gaps,” he continued, shooting a glare around the table.

“The style of her suit was similar to that of the mouse one, just with different coloring. Like that of a German Shepherd, as she said. She had escrima sticks strapped to her back, though I didn’t see her use them. There was no sign of the strange jump rope-slash-whip from last week.”

“Was there anything that pointed toward her background?” Bruce asked.

Damian thought about it for a moment. “She scaled the fire escape with ease when she left, though any of us could do that. So if she’s human, as she claims, then she’s likely at least had training, if not actual experience.” The others nodded in agreement.

“What stood out the most to me was her comment about her suits,” Dick mused. “Why would she need more than one kind? It’s already a pain in the ass for us to get backups of our suits, why go through the extra trouble of making them different?”

“And the different weapons too. If she has access to both the sticks and the whip, why only use one at a time?” Barbara added.

“Maybe they’re connected to the suits somehow? Baby bird, you said she wore the whip as a tail, right?” Jason turned to him.

“Correct,” Damian confirmed.

“And the sticks could be a nod to how dogs play fetch,” his brother continued.

“But why compromise your safety just to commit that hard to a theme?” Stephanie asked.

Everyone, including Bruce, raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, well obviously I wasn’t including the rogues in that,” she grumbled. “Multimouse or Hund or whatever seems too smart and in touch with reality to act like them. There has to be another reason.”

“She doesn’t have access to both at the same time,” Cass suggested.

“So she gets the outfits and weapons from someone else?” Tim pondered the idea. “That’s possible, but then what’s their motivation? We’re right back at square one, except now we know even less about the person making the decisions.”

“There is one more thing that’s bothering me,” Damian interjected. “Unlike all the other jokes she made, when she used ‘dogs and loyalty’ as her reason for helping me, she seemed embarrassed. Almost as if there was some truth to it.”

“What are you saying?” Jason asked.

He frowned. “I know it sounds far-fetched, but maybe the suits somehow influence her actions.”

“Through, what, magic?” Dick deadpanned. “You’re saying magical suits are involved.”

Damian shrugged. “We did already consider the possibility of some kind of magic being involved. And we’ve seen weirder.”

Stephanie dropped her head into her hands and let out a groan. “This is getting more complicated by the minute!”

“How should we proceed, Bruce?” At Barbara’s question, they turned to the patriarch who, Damian realized, hadn’t said a word this whole time.

He looked back at them for a moment, and…was that a hint of pride Damian saw?

“You all have developed some good working theories. Barbara, what’s the status of your search?”

“Still looking for mentions of Multimouse. No hits so far, but I’ll add ‘Hund’ as well.”

“Then unfortunately, all we can do is wait until another sighting to gather more information. All of us need to remain alert and remember our training in subtle ways to glean knowledge from others,” he ordered pointedly.

Jason rolled his eyes. “The guy’s out of the hospital now, and we got what we needed, didn’t we?”

Bruce continued as if not interrupted. “Damian, it’s likely that you will be the one to run into her again, and it sounds like you’re already building rapport. Use that to your advantage.”

“Yeah, baby bird, make sure your social skills are on par,” Tim smirked. Damian just glared back.

Bruce sighed. “We should also try to find the connection between the animals her suits are based on, if one exists. It could give us further insight into the girl or any potential partner.”

Once everyone nodded in acknowledge, he stood. The others followed, before Cass’ voice made them pause.

“What’ll we call her?”

They all looked at Cass thoughtfully for a moment, and then Damian spoke up.

“Menagerie. She claims to have a whole collection of animal-themed suits; it’s as if she is her own menagerie.”

The next morning, Damian sat in his Intro to Business class, halfway paying attention to his professor’s explanation of their semester-long project on a company of their choosing. He was running through a mental list of all the heroes and villains he’d met since moving to Gotham, as well as everyone he’d encountered during his time in the League. So far, he couldn’t recall anyone who mentioned or had potentially-magical suits like Menagerie’s.

As he was doing this, he vaguely registered the professor reading off names from a list, but he didn’t fully snap out of it until he heard his own name. He glanced up and made eye contact with a student who had twisted around in her seat a few rows in front of him in their lecture hall. She smiled at him, then gathered her things and stood up.

He studied her as she made her way up the aisle and into his row. Black hair in a messy braid over her shoulder. High quality yet unique clothes. Blue eyes and a splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

She sat down next to him, placing her bookbag in the seat on her other side. Her rose gold necklace glinted at him as she turned to him with another bright smile.

“Salut, partner! I’m Marinette!” she said with a noticeable French accent. She stuck her hand out.

He grasped it with a firm shake. “Damian.”

Chapter Text

Robin paced back and forth atop an office building in the heart of Gotham’s business district. He had rushed through his patrol route, but he knew he needed to cool off before heading back to the Cave. He was one joking insult from a family member away from exploding.

That train of thought led him back to why he was so angry in the first place. Without warning, he turned and punched the wall-like ledge enclosing the roof, letting loose a snarl as he did so.

“Oh goodness.”

At the sound of an unexpected voice, he spun, throwing a punch before he could register it. A small but strong hand wrapping around his fist halted his momentum.

“Whoa there, it’s just me.” Great. Menagerie. Exactly who he needed tonight. He had thought he’d have at least a week until he saw her again, but it had only been a couple days.

“And who are you this time?” he said, meaner than he intended.

She frowned, glancing away from him in thought. “Um…Capricornus?” she answered, dropping his hand.

He scanned her, noting the white bodysuit with black elbow-length gloves and knee-length boots. His eyes lingered on the pair of janbiya sheathed at her hips, held there by a black belt; he hadn’t seen that particular weapon since he left the League. He looked up and saw the two hair clips styled after goat horns, before meeting her gaze through her black mask. He noted that her pupils seemed flatter than usual, possibly due to contacts.

“Doesn’t that constellation also have a fish tail?” he snarked. He knew he should be nicer, be “building rapport” like Batman said, but fury still ran hot in his veins.

He expected her to push back at him, the way she had done the last time they met, but instead she smiled and shrugged. “I know, not my best, but this is the first time I’ve worn the goat, uh, suit, so I had to think fast.”

With that said, she plopped down on the ground, leaned against the ledge, and patted the spot next to her. To his own surprise, he sat down, extending his legs in front of him.

“You seem angry,” she commented.

He snorted. “Brilliant detective work.”

“Angry enough to take it out on others.”

Her tone was patient, but he still felt a pang of guilt. He looked down, but before he could fumble through an apology, she continued. “It’s only going to get worse if you don’t talk about it.”

“And what, I’m supposed to talk to you?” He rolled his eyes. “No offense, but I barely know you, let alone trust you.”

She hummed in agreement. “Fair enough. How about I tell you something about myself, and then you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Well. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity. “Agreed.”

Capricornus took a breath. “I used to fight someone who could manipulate people using their strong emotions. Because of this, I started repressing mine. However, shortly after this enemy showed up, an ongoing…situation began in my personal life, one that caused a lot of pain and sadness and anger. One day, I couldn’t keep it all down anymore, and I snapped.” Her voice took on a wistful tone. “He almost got me.”

Robin didn’t dare breathe and risk interrupting her. Suddenly, she met his gaze with a smile. “Luckily, I had friends who helped me and kept that from happening. That’s why I know how important it is not to bottle things up.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. How much do you know about Gotham’s villains?”

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “I did some research on them before I moved here, so I know the basics about a lot of the heavy hitters. Joker, Penguin, Bane, guys like that. The Sirens too, though they aren’t really villains anymore, I guess.”

He grimaced. “Did you read anything about a man called Hush?”

She gazed up at him. “No, I didn’t.”

A humorless laugh escaped him. “Figures. He prefers to remain in the shadows most times, manipulating others to do his dirty work. He’s been in Arkham since my team’s last run-in with him a few years ago. Except, he hasn’t been; he apparently escaped three months ago. We hadn’t been informed because someone had taken his place. Hush is a master surgeon who has altered his own appearance multiple times. He must’ve convinced—or, more likely, threatened—someone to undergo surgery to look like him when he was still out. Which means he’s had this contingency in place this whole time.”

“Why would he wait so long to use it?” she asked.

“That’s what we want to know. He was probably planning something that needed time but he could do by proxy from his cell,” he hypothesized.

“Do you have any ideas about what it could be?”

“Fortunately, I do,” he said with a grim smile. “His plans always have one of two goals: get close to Bruce Wayne or destroy Bruce Wayne. Sometimes both.”

“Wow. That must be really hard for him and his family.” He glanced at her, trying to find any hidden meaning in her comment, but all he could hear was sympathy.

“Yeah. Must be,” he echoed.

Suddenly, she turned and held his gaze. “So which part of this is bothering you?”

Her words made his ire flare up again, burning inside him. “We should have known he escaped. We’re a team of detectives! How could we not know?”

A hand on his knee made him pause. “You have every right to be angry,” Capricornus started, “but don’t forget to be kind to yourself. You weren’t looking for this, and it sounds like even the people who worked with him every day didn’t notice the change.”

“You’re…right,” he said, shocking himself and everyone listening in on comms, he was sure. After that admission, though, he wanted to talk about anything else, so he cast around for a topic.

“You have gloves and boots this time.” He inwardly cringed at his statement of the obvious.

She just smiled warmly at him. “Some goats are particularly good climbers. The suit makes up for the fact that I’m, you know, human.” She held out a hand, palm up, so he could see the grips built in.

He gently grasped her wrist, pulling her hand closer. Running his fingers over her palm, he examined the foreign material. He was about to ask what it was when he heard a slight hitch in her breathing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a light blush peeking out from beneath her mask. Spurred on by the strange desire to see it spread, he repeated the motion a little slower and firmer this time. To his immense satisfaction, he saw her blush darken. “Hm. I, for one, am glad you’re human,” he murmured in a low tone.

“W-what—”

The sound of her voice snapped him out of whatever daze he was in that caused him to say that. He immediately dropped her hand and stood up, clearing his throat.

“I, um, assume you don’t have experience with janbiya,” he said awkwardly, gesturing to the curved daggers hanging from her belt.

She stood up too, giving him a look that made him feel like she was trying to decipher something about him that even he didn’t understand. “No, I don’t,” she finally responded.

“I can give you some pointers. If you would like,” he offered.

That got her to stop giving him the weird look. “Sure, I would really appreciate it.” She unsheathed the twin blades and handed one over to him.

When he walked into the Cave that night, he was met with cheers from his siblings. Someone—his money was on Tim—started playing “Smooth Operator” through their phone speaker.

“There he is! Man of the hour!” Barbara called.

“He did it! He flirted! Our baby bird is growing up,” Dick said, wiping away imaginary tears.

Jason leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “Although, ‘I’m glad you’re human’ might not be the smoothest line out there.”

“She clearly didn’t mind,” Cass retorted.

Tim and Stephanie sang along to the song, pointing at Damian. Even Bruce wore an amused smile.

Damian just kept walking, not even slowing down as he passed his family. Fuck debriefing, he was not about to deal with any of that.

As he walked to his room, he ran into Alfred doing…whatever Alfred did. He paused, turning to his pseudo-grandfather. “Alfred, how are we the only two sane ones in this house?”

“I have no idea what you mean, Master Damian,” Alfred said evenly. “I seem to recall you chasing Master Jason through the halls with your katana last week because he hid your favorite mask.”

Damian continued the path to his room, sulking the whole way.

The next day, his Intro to Business professor had given them time to work on their projects, so Damian found himself sitting in the back of the lecture hall with Marinette. He felt slightly better about the whole Hush situation after talking with Menagerie, but he still was having a hard time focusing on classes when he had as much a reason to be concerned as Damian Wayne as he did as Robin.

“I know your family owns a company, so I understand if you’d like to do the project on it. But if you’d rather do something different, I prepared a list of potential options. Some are tailored to my interests, but others are ones that seem to have unique business models. I don’t really know you, so I don’t know what your preferences are, but we could definitely look at some other companies too. What do you think, Damian? …Damian?”

A small hand waving in front of his face startled him, though the only outward indication was him snapping his gaze to meet Marinette’s. He mentally reviewed the words he’d only been halfway processing and realized that she was waiting for an answer.

“You choose, I’ll be fine with anything.” He was ready to go back to brooding when she spoke again.

“You look like something is on your mind. Would you like to talk about it?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why would you care?”

She tilted her head, a few strands of hair falling from where her bangs were clipped back with two tiny, rose-gold bows. “You need somebody to talk to; I can relate.” She hesitated slightly before continuing. “I don’t think this is well known outside of France, but in Paris we used to have a villain named Hawkmoth who preyed on difficult emotions like anger or embarrassment. Most of us learned to suppress these feelings, but it took a toll on our mental health. After experiencing that, I don’t like seeing people do it to themselves.”

It almost seemed like she was chastising him, but that was the least of his worries. “What did he do? How long was he active? Why was this not international news? And what happened to him?”

Her eyes widened, a bit overwhelmed. “The heroes stopped him, of course.” Seeing Damian open his mouth, she rushed to add, “I’ll answer your questions after you tell me what’s bothering you. And we pick a company.”

He let out a breath that was a bit too forceful to be considered a sigh. The memory of Menagerie bartering information with him to get him to open up the previous night flashed through his mind. “If you insist. A man who holds a grudge against but is also obsessed with my father escaped from Arkham and hasn’t been seen since. He always comes after my family when he’s free, sooner or later, so I constantly feel like the other shoe is about to drop. There, are you happy?” He glared off to the side.

“Of course I’m not,” she said firmly enough that he turned to look back at her. “That sounds like a horrible situation. Do you have any kind of security? What about the city’s heroes?”

“Yes, we have protection; my father is always prepared for these kinds of circumstances. As for the vigilantes, I’m sure they’re investigating it, but they have other responsibilities. You know, like protecting the entire city and not just some rich family,” he huffed, trying to get her to back off.

“Well, I’m not sure I can provide much more than baked goods and a listening ear, but I’m here if you ever need help,” she replied, watching him with warmth in her eyes.

“Yes, sure,” he waved off, ignoring his surprise at her kind offer. He then leaned forward. “Now, about what happened in Paris—”

“Nope,” she cut him off, “we still have to pick a company for the project.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to maintain his patience. “Fine. Show me the list.”

Chapter Text

For the first time since they had met, Robin was seeking out Menagerie. He thought it would be easy to find her, considering how she seemed to pop up everywhere he was, but it had been nearly a week and a half since his conversation with Marinette, and he had not spotted her yet.

Hearing Marinette talk about Hawkmoth had raised some alarms in his head. What she said about the villain reminded him of the one Menagerie had described. There was evidence pointing toward them not being connected—primarily, the descriptions about their respective villains had some discrepancies, and Menagerie didn’t have a French accent—but he had learned that there was rarely such a thing as coincidence in his line of work. Plus, what little information he had been able to find on Hawkmoth had also given him the names of the heroes who fought him—Ladybug and Chat Noir, meaning all three were based on animals. That connection to Menagerie might be tenuous at best, but he was still going to investigate it like any other lead.

The sounds of fighting broke him out of his thoughts. He raced toward the noises until he reached the alley behind the Gotham National Bank. There was a deep wound carved in the face of the building. He immediately looked around for a weapon that could create that level of damage, but then he saw her.

Menagerie was battling half a dozen men. This was his first time seeing her fight someone other than him, and he found himself oddly breathless. She moved gracefully, dancing around the poor fools trying to land a hit on her. Her bodysuit tonight was lavender at her shoulders but darkened down the suit until it was a deep, almost-black purple at her feet. She held what looked like a cane that she was using to disarm her opponents. There was a butterfly brooch pinned over her heart, and her hair was loose, swinging behind her as she moved. What stood out most was the strange, two-part cape she was wearing.

He finally tore his gaze from her long enough to examine the men. As soon as he saw the umbrellas in their hands, he rolled his eyes. Penguin goons. The man refused to ditch the absurd things despite there being much better tech out there.

Except, as he thought this, one of the few men who still had a hold on his umbrella leveled it at Menagerie, and a deadly-looking laser shot out the tip. In that split second before it made contact, though one part of his brain was making note of that particular upgrade, the rest of his mind was screaming her name. Then, she reacted.

She spun and ducked her head, causing her cape to spread out and fully cover her. When the beam hit the material without leaving so much as singe marks, he started wondering where exactly she got her suit. Two umbrella-less goons decided to take advantage of her distraction and rushed her from either side. Spotting them, she got a determined look on her face and leapt straight up into the air.

Robin felt his jaw dropping as her cape unfurled into two large butterfly wings. Thanks to them, she hovered in the air as the goons crashed into each other underneath her, falling to the ground. With her back to him, he could see how accurately detailed they were. Yeah, he was definitely going to find out where she got her suit.

Suddenly, he saw that same goon from before once again point his umbrella at her from behind. The rational part of his brain knew that she’d be okay, after seeing her deflect the laser once, but he still found himself leaping from the rooftop in a freefall. He landed in a crouch behind the man, his boots absorbing most of the shock from the impact. In a flash, he stuck out his leg, hooked it around the goon’s ankles, and pulled. The man came crashing down and before he could react, Robin yanked his arms behind his back and secured his wrists with a zip tie.

When he looked up, he saw Menagerie had landed back on the ground, her wings once more folded into an imitation of a cape. They worked quickly to secure the rest of the group, only leaving when they heard sirens nearing their location. Once they were observing the goons being taken into custody from the rooftop where Robin had stood before, she finally spoke to him.

“I could’ve handled it myself,” she said with a teasing smile.

He decided to ignore the jab. “I’ve been looking for you for over a week,” he said sternly.

Menagerie’s eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in surprise. “I—I’m sorry, my civilian life got busy, and I haven’t actually been out since I last saw you. But why were you looking for me?”

He watched her carefully as he asked his question. “Are you from Paris?”

She furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I was recently made aware of the former presence of a villain in Paris,” he responded, still studying her. “He went by the name Hawkmoth, and his powers sound similar to those of your former enemy. In addition, the heroes there had animal-themed personas.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t a full-body laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said once she calmed down, “it’s just, there are so many heroes named after animals. I mean, look at your team! Also, you said his name was Hawkmoth? If I fought him, why would I style myself after the same animal as him?” She gestured to her suit, then continued with a bit of snark. “My name is so much better that his, anyway. Then again, the villains here have ridiculous names too, so maybe it’s a requirement. You can call me Nympha, by the way.”

Robin knew that if he wanted to build trust, he needed to take Nympha at her word. He also knew that she didn’t give him a straight answer. Deciding to report the theory to his family despite what she said, he moved on to another question that was on his mind. “What kind of tech is that?” he asked, motioning to her cape.

She glanced at it over her shoulder, then turned back to him. “Why are you asking?”

“It was able to deflect a laser that could cut through stone—” he pointed to the side of the bank, “—without so much as a singe mark. Then, it was able to unfold into extremely accurate butterfly wings that you can use to fly.”

“Oh. When you say it like that, I see why you might be curious.” She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn’t. Only the one who made the suit knows that.”

Finally, a lead! He took a step toward her. “So there’s someone else working with you?”

She hummed. “In a sense. They’ve had a rough go of it for the past few years, but I like to think that I’m helping them through it.”

He got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach seeing the fond smile on her face as she talked about her partner, though he wasn’t sure why. He knew how important backup was, so he should be relieved that she had someone in her corner. Wait, why was he worried about her safety? She could clearly take care of herself, and they weren’t even teammates.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Nympha. “Well, it’s getting late, so I should probably head home.”

She turned to go, but Robin stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I have one more question.”

When she was facing him again, he could see amusement in her expression. “Here I thought we were becoming friends, but you seem only interested in my information,” she teased.

He scowled. “We are not friends. You refuse to work with my team, and I barely know anything about you.”

She gave him an appraising look. “You’re right. Maybe we should change that. But not tonight.” She cut off his protest by asking, “What’s your question?”

“I’ve never seen Penguin umbrellas with that much firepower,” he explained. “What can you tell me about them? You got a closer look than I did.”

She glanced upwards thoughtfully, concentration clear on her face. “They seemed new. I would imagine that umbrellas used multiple times would show signs of wear, especially on the handle, but these looked fresh. As you can tell by the wall of the bank, the lasers were extremely precise but also powerful. That’s about all I know.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” Hearing a voice in his ear, he continued, “I must return to our base.”

Nympha grinned. “You know, I think I’ll stay out here a little longer. Stretch my wings.” As soon as she said that, the wings unfurled and lifted her off the rooftop. “Until next time, little bird,” she said with a wink, taking off into the night.

Robin watched in what was absolutely not awe. Still, it took him a minute to turn away and head back to the Cave.

Normally, Damian hated the days when he was last to report about patrol. He preferred to just say his piece and be done with it. Tonight, however, he was glad because it gave him more time to process his conversation with Menagerie. It sounded like everyone had a pretty busy night, though just with low-level crooks, so he knew that he would need to recap most of his interaction.

“Damian.” At the sound of his father’s voice, he sat up a bit straighter and gave him a nod. Looking around the table at the rest of his family, he spoke.

“Earlier tonight, I found Menagerie, though she was calling herself ‘Nympha,’ and—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jason interrupted. He should’ve expected this. “You were chasing her? She’s already got you whipped!”

“That is not the case, and if you had let me speak you would know that,” Damian hissed back. “I was looking for her because I received intel from another source that could possibly link her to Paris.”

Bruce frowned. “We weren’t aware of a superhero presence in Paris.”

Damian nodded again. “It seems as though the information has been suppressed by someone. A preliminary search only turned up the names of the heroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir, as well as that of the villain they were fighting, Hawkmoth. Even using the Batcomputer, I couldn’t find  anything more.”

“That seems like significantly more censorship than a democratic government could get away with, or even have the capacity to do,” Tim mused. Then he let out a betrayed gasp. “Is this why you kicked me off the computer last week?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to kick you off if you took breaks like a normal human.”

Stephanie interjected before the interaction could escalate. “If that’s the only intel you could find, then how did you connect Menagerie? I mean, they all have animal themes, but so do lots of people in our line of work, including us.”

“That’s what she said as well. However, my source is from Paris and provided a description of Hawkmoth similar enough to what Menagerie has said about her old villain that it raised some flags.”

“What did they say?” Barbara looked up from her laptop, ready to transcribe the descriptions.

“Menagerie said that her nemesis could manipulate people through their strong emotions. My source said Hawkmoth ‘preyed on difficult emotions,’ such as anger or embarrassment. Both mentioned learning to suppress their feelings.”

“That does sound more promising,” Dick agreed, “but it still doesn’t prove a connection.”

“Which is why I was looking for—not chasing—Menagerie. I asked her directly if she was from Paris, explaining what I had learned. She pointed out that the animal-theme connection was tenuous and that it would be strange for her to use the same inspiration as her nemesis. Yet she never outright denied my claim. Therefore, I believe it would be prudent to continue investigating the theory,” Damian concluded.

“My algorithm has finished its search of the American section of the internet, with no luck,” Barbara chimed in. “I can have it focus on France next, see if it can find anything you missed.”

“Thank you, Barbara.” Bruce inclined his head toward her, then turned back to Damian. “Do you think you can get anymore information out of your source?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, “she’s fairly talkative.”

“‘She’?” Cass echoed with a predatory smirk. “Who is ‘she’?”

Damian felt everyone’s eyes on him as he willed down a sudden blush. “She is merely my assigned partner for a class project.”

“And you’re sure she’s trustworthy?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” he repeated. “She has nothing to gain from lying to me about this.”

“Is she cute?”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Grayson, must you ask that about every girl I meet?”

“It’s my duty as oldest brother!” Dick exclaimed with an obnoxious grin. “I can ask it about every boy and nonbinary person you meet too, but I didn’t think you swung that way.”

“Someone’s avoiding the question,” Stephanie singsonged.

Damian tried to mask his embarrassment by rolling his eyes. “If you’re done, I’d like to continue my report.”

Jason opened his mouth, but Bruce beat him to it. “Go ahead.”

“I was able to confirm the presence of a partner of some sort.” The words made the teasing light leave his siblings’ eyes, and they all leaned forward as they listened intently.

“Her suit today included two large, detailed butterfly wings that gave her the ability to fly,” he continued. “When they were not in use, they draped over her back like a cape, which could protect her from weapons without so much as a scratch.”

“Are you sure she could fly, or did she glide like I can with my suit?” Tim asked.

Damian shook his head. “No, at the end of our conversation she literally flew off into the night.”

“Damn,” Jason muttered. “And the partner?”

“Right.” Damian refocused. “I asked about the tech used in her wings, and she said only the person who made the suit knew what it was. When I asked if they were working with her, she said ‘in a sense.’”

“So she’s still being evasive.” Bruce turned to him with a hint of pride in his eyes. “Good work, Damian. Keep meeting with her, see if you can convince her to talk with us.”

Damian shifted in his seat. “There’s more. Not about Menagerie,” he added at the too-smug expressions on his siblings’ faces.

“When I first found Menagerie, she was fighting six Penguin goons behind the Gotham National Bank. They had new umbrellas outfitted with powerful yet precise lasers. I took pictures of the damage they did to the wall and sent them to Gordon.”

With a few clicks of her keyboard, Barbara had the images pulled up on the monitor mounted on the wall behind her head. “Like baby bird said, this is something we haven’t seen before from Penguin. As we know, him using new weapons usually comes hand-in-hand with reports of stolen tech or scientists being kidnapped or paid off; however, I haven’t found anything like that in recent weeks.”

Bruce propped his elbows up of the table, laced his fingers together, and rested his mouth against his hands in one of his patented thinking poses. After a few moments, of this, he straightened back up. “Barbara, Tim, keep digging to see if you can find more information on Penguin’s activities. I will pay a visit to the GCPD’s evidence room. Otherwise, we will continue patrols as usual. Damian, as I said, keep making contact with Menagerie. It seems like she’s on our side, but there is still too much unknown about her.”

His family quickly dispersed, leaving Damian to wonder about his next meeting with the elusive hero.

Chapter Text

Damian saw Marinette the second she walked into the lecture hall and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. She was dragging her feet, clutching a coffee cup in each hand, and her eyes, which were barely cracked open, were framed by dark circles underneath. In short, she looked like Tim on one of his bad days.

When she walked past her usual row, he assumed her sleep-deprived brain was failing her. When she turned down his row, his second eyebrow joined the first. He maintained the expression as she slumped down in the chair next to him, taking a long draw of the coffee in her right hand.

“What are you doing?” He expected the sound of his voice to shock her, but she didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she groaned in the back of her throat. “I don’t have the energy to move if he gives us time to work on our project.”

Rather than insisting that she move to a seat that’s not next to him, Damian found himself reaching across her to grab the moveable desk attached to the chair and pulling it up and over her lap. He intended for her to set her drinks down; instead, she leaned forward and dropped her head onto it with a thud that had people in the rows in front of them turning with alarm on their faces.

“Je vais bien,” she mumbled.

He eyed her for a moment or two, then cleared his throat. “Late night?”

Marinette made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. “More like an all-night.”

He was confused for a second before discerning what she meant. “You pulled an all-nighter?”

“Yes, that, slang is so confusing.” Her words were muffled by the desk. “I thought this might help me stay awake, but it’s not working.”

Letting go of her coffee, she waved her left hand, and a glint of something silver caught his eye. When she grasped the cup again, he could see a silver thumb ring with two bands connected by a thin rod. There was a heart at each point the bands connected to the rod.

“Why would a ring keep you awake?” he questioned, slightly more concerned about her mental state.

That got her to sit up, although her eyes were still half-closed. “I, uh, think I’m reaching the delusional stage of sleep deprivation,” she said with a nervous laugh, taking a sip of one of her drinks.

He could tell she was lying, but the professor decided to make his entrance, and Damian’s attention was pulled away.

About ten minutes later, a girl in one of the first few rows asked a question, and he took the opportunity to look over at his uninvited seat buddy. Marinette was still actually sitting up, though her head was resting on the back of the chair. And her eyes were still shut.

“Shouldn’t you be paying attention?” he muttered. Sure, he didn’t find the class particularly challenging and was only present due to the professor’s strict attendance policy, but his upbringing sometimes made it difficult to gauge how much others would struggle in academic settings. She cracked open an eye, and he couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or not at her lack of reaction.

“I’ve been running my own business since I was, like, fifteen,” she muttered back. “There’s probably not much this guy could teach me that I haven’t already learned from experience.” With that said, she closed her eye again, as if the conversation was going to end there.

“You’ve been running a business,” he repeated, his tone a mix of skeptical and impressed.

Marinette’s eyes flew open. “Merde, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that!”

Damian shot a glance to the front of the room and, seeing that the professor was still occupied, decided to keep digging. “And why is that?”

She grimaced and took another swig of coffee. “I had some issues with some of my classmates in collège and lycée. Ultimately I learned that it was better to keep work and play separate.” An embarrassed flush rose on her cheeks. “Plus, talking about it makes me feel like I’m bragging, and I don’t want to be that person.”

He was trying to figure out which statement from the past few minutes he wanted to unpack first when he caught another glance of her. Her head was leaned against the chair again and her eyes had remained closed, the dark circles seeming even deeper when contrasted by her pale skin instead of her brilliant blue eyes. All of a sudden, he couldn’t bring himself to keep pushing her.

Still, being who he was, he had to get the last word. “Don’t come to me when you need today’s notes,” he grumbled. The only indication that Marinette heard him was the slight quirk of her lips.

That evening, someone unexpectedly caught up to Robin on his patrol. One moment, he was leaping between buildings alone; the next, he could sense another presence moving parallel to him. Much to his embarrassment, when he glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, he nearly tripped.

Menagerie’s suit tonight was a deep maroon with mustard yellow accents in the form of her mask, belt, gloves, and boots. She was wearing a cape again, but this one was made of iridescent feathers that shone red and yellow. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, with a bump on top mimicking a rooster’s comb.

What startled him wasn’t her sudden appearance. Batman was his father—he was used to that. No, it was that she was wearing his colors. Well, she didn’t have any green or black, but still. It was almost like they were coordinated. If someone saw them, they might even think the pair were partners.

Despite catching himself and coming to a halt, his stomach flipped at that thought. He quickly shoved it away as she landed next to him.

“Are you okay?” He might’ve been convinced by her concerned tone if he couldn’t see the amusement dancing in her eyes. He glared back and ignored the question.

“What am I supposed to call you tonight?” he said crossly.

“Wallonia,” she replied, still grinning.

He blinked. “Like the region in Belgium?”

Her face lit up. “Yes, have you been? I went years ago on a vacation, and I absolutely loved it! The second I saw this suit it reminded me of their flag, you know, the red rooster on the yellow background?”

He nodded stiffly. “Yes, I know. I went there once on…‘business.’”

She looked confused for a moment, but then recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, you mean this kind of ‘business.’ I don’t remember the Justice League ever being in Belgium. When was this?”

“It was before I came to Gotham and joined Batman’s team.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this when she always declined to answer his questions; maybe part of him was hoping she’d reciprocate his openness.

She inhaled sharply. “What? But you were so young when you became Robin!”

He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicion rolling off him in waves. Wallonia’s mildly horrified look became sheepish. “Okay, so I might have done some research on you…and your entire team,” she said with a weak smile.

Crossing his arms, he let out a scoff. “And you still refuse to answer a single question about yourself. How hypocritical.”

“Hey!” She stormed up to him. “I have reasons for protecting my identities, civilian and hero.” Before he could snap back, he saw her visibly deflate. “But you’re right. It isn’t fair for me to know so much more about you than you do about me.”

“So you’re going to answer my questions?” he said, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Only if they don’t compromise me,” she replied, holding up a finger. “But you did point out last week that we don’t know much about each other, and I’d like to change that.”

With that said, she brushed past him. He turned to see her settling down on the ledge of the building. She glanced back at him with a small smile and gestured to the space next to her. As he joined her, he tried to decide what to ask her first, not knowing how long she would be in the mood to share. Finally, he chose to toss her an easy one first to see how she would react. Plus, he was curious.

“Did this suit not come with a weapon?”

Her mouth dropped open, and he felt a sense of satisfaction at the sign that she was caught off-guard. Then, it twisted into a grin. She held out her arm, palm facing up, but made no other movement. As he watched, a previously invisible slit on the inner wrist of her glove opened and a curved blade shot out. She wrapped her fingers around the handle, then flipped it so the blade pointed downward from the bottom of her fist and arced forward. Her pointer finger was hooked through the finger ring.

“A karambit,” he noted. Based on placement and shape, he could only assume it was meant to mimic a rooster spur. “Clever.”

“Thanks!” she chirped, then repeated the process with her other arm so that in the blink of an eye, she held two blades. “Did you know women used to tie these in their hair and use them for self-defense?”

“I did not,” he answered, watching intently as she placed the handles of each blade against her wrists and they retracted back into her gloves. His attention was only pulled away by the sound of her voice.

 “Since I basically told you I know how old you were when you became Robin, I guess I can return the favor. I was thirteen.”

“What?” His brows knit. “Were you alone?”

“No,” she said, smiling brighter. “I had a partner. At first it was just the two of us, but eventually we brought more people into the fold.”

“Was your partner your mentor, then?”

She laughed. “No, no, we were the same age. And started at the same time.”

“Then who trained you?” he pressed, growing increasingly troubled the more she shared.

“We did have someone, briefly,” she said, a look of intense sorrow coming over her face, “but then there was an…accident, and he couldn’t help us anymore.”

Robin felt a pang in his chest at her expression, which warred with the anger he felt at her words. “So it was just the two of you, barely teenagers and hardly any training?”

She gave him a commiserating look. “Trust me, I know. We were a hot mess for a while, but eventually we figured it out. Forming the team really helped.”

“Why did you even take on the role in the first place?” To him, it sounded like the responsibility was forced on her.

“You know the person I mentioned last time? My enemy? Well, he showed up and regular law enforcement wasn’t equipped to handle it, so our mentor chose us,” she explained with a shrug.

“I don’t see how two kids who don’t know what they’re doing would be more effective, but I suppose that’s one of the things you’re not going to tell me,” he stated with a deadpanned look.

She smirked. “I knew there was a reason they call you ‘Boy Wonder!’”

Before he could stop her, her hand shot up and ruffled his hair. He pushed her away, scowling, and tried his best to fix it, which she observed while snickering to herself. When her laughter had died down, she reached for him again, slowly this time. Still, one of his hands left his hair and wrapped around her wrist, halting her movement.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Relax, I’m just going to help.”

He let go but eyed her warily. She kept true to her word, however, and just ran her hand through his hair a few times, coaxing the strands to lie down again. On the last brush of her fingers, an involuntary shiver ran down his spine.

Her eyes, which had been focused on his hair, drifted down to meet his own. As she slowly withdrew her arm back to her side, he felt a weird sort of tension build between them. Even so, he found that he couldn’t look away.

Eventually, she tore her gaze from his and cleared her throat. “A-anyway, it’s your turn now.”

“What?” Still watching her, he tried to remember what they had been talking about. And was his voice a little deeper than usual?

“How long have you been involved in this world?” she asked, gesturing to their suits.

“Since birth.” He frowned down at his fists, which were balled up in his lap. For some reason, he hated the idea of telling her who he was before Robin. He tried to think of a way to derail this conversation, but she beat him to it.

“Okay,” she said, something in her expression telling him that she had noticed his discomfort. “Who is your favorite member of you team?”

He jerked his head up, surprised by the question. Her teasing smirk matched her words, but it was the sympathy in her eyes that stood out to him. Usually, he hated it when that emotion was directed at him, but tonight it meant that she understood he wasn’t ready to share, and she wasn’t going to push his boundaries. Slowly, a matching smirk grew on his face.

“That’s a cruel question; most of the team is on comms right now,” he said, tapping the device in his ear. “That being said, Batgirl. She’s the quietest.”

Wallonia’s delighted laughter was well worth the eruption of dismayed voices in his ear, which only proved his point. She raised a hand to her mouth, muffling her giggles, but he could still see them in her shaking shoulders and the crinkles at the corners of her eyes.

“Can your team hear me?” she asked once she had calmed down. Before he could answer, she said, in a slightly louder voice, “Hi Batfam!”

Robin winced at the chorus of returned greetings and shot her a dark look. “Really? That obnoxious fanboy name?”

“Well I think it’s cute, so I’m sticking with it,” she replied, eyes gleaming. “Now tell me what they said!”

He sighed. “They said hello.”

“Ask your girlfriend when we get to meet her!”

He sighed more heavily. “And Red Hood wants to know when they get to meet you.”

A bit of the annoyance caused by his brother’s comment faded when she laughed again. “We’ll just have to see.”

When his siblings started whining and complaining in response to her statement, he pressed the button to turn off his comm while muttering, “Children, all of them.” His eyes landed on Wallonia, who had a fond smile on her face. “What?” he growled.

“It seems like you are all pretty close.” She glanced down, smile turning wistful. “Reminds me of my team. Former team, I guess.”

“What happened to them?” he asked, unsure if this would be an off-limits topic.

She leaned back on her hands and tilted her face up, looking at the few visible stars hanging over Gotham. “We went our separate ways. I talk to them all the time, but I’m the only one still in this ‘business.’”

He had a sudden flashback to the empathy lessons Barbara had given him shortly after he became Robin. He imagined how he would feel if his family or the Titans retired and grimaced. “That sounds lonely.”

It could’ve been a trick of the light, but her eyes seemed a little brighter than they were a moment ago. “Yeah, it can be,” she agreed. Then she leaned toward him, usual grin back in place. “But that’s why I have you!”

“Hm.” He turned his head away but was unable to smother his satisfied grin or the slight heat on his cheeks. “And the person who makes your suits.”

“Uh, right! Them too!” He made eye contact again and noticed that her eyes were slightly wider and her smile was a bit forced. He didn’t have time to contemplate possible reasons why because she blurted out, “Do you have any pets?”

He stared at her. “What?”

“We’re getting to know each other!” she exclaimed, her speech somewhat rushed. “You don’t have to say what they are, just yes or no.”

He considered her for another moment before giving in. “Yes, I do. I’m quite fond of animals.”

She leaned toward him again, a little closer this time, with that same smirk from earlier on her face. “Ah, that’s why you like me so much.”

He spluttered, the heat on his cheeks increasing significantly, before settling on, “That is utterly ridiculous!”

She gaped at him for a beat, then burst out laughing. The force of it nearly caused her to tip over, but she latched onto his arm and steadied herself by resting her forehead on his shoulder. Now, not only could he hear her amusement, but he could also feel it through the force of her shaking.

Scowling, partially at her and partially at his blush that would not die down, he snapped, “What’s so funny?”

Her giggles fading, she wiped tears from her eyes. “You reminded me of one of my best friends. You basically said her catchphrase.” Her eyes glazed over, as if imagining something. “Now I’m trying to picture the two of you meeting. You would either take over the world or kill each other.”

Her friend sounded interesting, at least. “What’s she like?”

Pulled from her musings, she said, “What?”

He shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “I thought we were getting to know each other. You can learn a lot about someone through their relationships.”

One of the most joyful smiles he had ever seen bloomed on her face, and he felt a sense of pride knowing that he caused it. They stayed out much later than he anticipated, trading stories and facts that wouldn’t compromise their identities. They only separated when Oracle called him back to the Cave.

He was pleased to note that Wallonia held onto his arm the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Another uneventful class had passed, and Damian and Marinette were packing up their things. Ever since she sat next to him the week before, it had apparently become her new spot. A few peers that Damian vaguely recognized from his time at Gotham Academy had shot her looks each time she took her seat, but after seeing that she didn’t run away crying from him, they seemed to relax.

“Hey, Damian?” He looked up from where he was zipping his backpack shut to see Marinette watching him. When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “Some friends and I are going out tomorrow night for something called ‘Thirsty Thursday.’” The confusion on her face mirrored his own feelings.

“I don’t know what that means,” he replied. He distantly recalled one of his brothers saying it once when he was younger—Tim, maybe—but refusing to explain it.

“Yeah, me neither.” She frowned for a second, but then her mouth shifted to a bright smile. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to join us!”

Typically, he would say “No” and leave it at that, but something compelled him to be a little nicer to her. “I can’t, I have plans,” he said instead. It wasn’t even a lie; he was scheduled for patrol.

“That’s okay, maybe next time,” she said, smile not faltering.

“Maybe,” he echoed, unwilling to commit to anything. With that, she turned and left, leaving him to puzzle over why she had even asked him in the first place.

The next night, Robin was on his assigned route when Oracle got an alert.

“Scarecrow sighting on Lee Avenue,” she stated over the sounds of typing on her keyboard. “Hacking street cams now. Anyone close?”

“Three minutes out,” he said, whipping sharply to his left and heading to the location. Lee Avenue was a street near Gotham University that was lined with popular bars and clubs.

“Same,” he heard Red Robin say over comms.

“No can do,” Red Hood muttered, voice low. “In the middle of a drug bust.”

“I’m a little farther out, but I’ll book it over there,” Spoiler answered.

“Robin, Red Robin, focus on clearing civilians first,” Batman commanded. “Spoiler and I will provide backup when we arrive.”

When he arrived at Lee Avenue, he didn’t have to wait for Oracle to confirm Scarecrow’s location—people were streaming out of Sinclair, a club that primarily catered to the nearby university students. They were clearly scared, but from his position on the rooftops it was hard to tell if any of it was induced by fear toxin. He heard Red Robin land next to him on the building across from the club.

“Go in and see if anyone is being held by Scarecrow or his goons. I’ll start corralling people out here until the response team arrives with the antidote.” Robin nodded, grateful that Red was taking charge of the crowd. Dealing with civilians was not his favorite part of the job. The two men pulled out their portable gas masks, fixed them in place, and leapt into the fray.

Immediately, he could tell that the people outside had received at least a mild dose of the toxin. He ignored the instructions Red was shouting to the civilians in favor of barreling toward the door. Just as he reached it, he heard someone shout “Robin!”

He paused and looked to his left, where the shout had come from. He was slightly shocked by what he saw: Marinette was weaving through the crowd, dodging everyone rushing around her. Sooner than he had expected, she was next to him.

“I counted fifteen men, plus Scarecrow. They set off what looked like smoke bombs all around the main floor, except they were filled with the toxin.” He could tell by the dilation of her pupils that she was fighting off the effects of it. “Scarecrow went upstairs. VIP area. Not sure what his plan is.” Her breathing was getting heavier by the second.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, which seemed to ground her for a moment. “Go find Red Robin. The crisis response team should be here soon with the antidote.” She nodded but made no attempt to move, eyes glazing over. He gave her a gentle shove in the right direction, and then barged into the club.

Instantly, three men were on him. He ducked and weaved, then returned their punches with much more success. Soon enough they were lying unconscious, and he was melting into the shadows so he could assess the situation unnoticed. There were another three men guarding the emergency exit at the back of the club. The remaining nine men were split evenly between three groups of five hostages each. Moving silently towards the closest group, he could see two of the men had guns and were focused on containing the hostages, who are already screaming and crying and pulling at their bound wrists. The third man was writing in a notebook, but in the dim lighting of the club, he couldn't make out what it said.

Creeping closer, Robin made his move. He tossed a birdarang to the side of the room, where it made a clang as it struck metal. All three men turned in that direction. In the blink of an eye, Robin leapt forward and struck the back of the neck of one of the armed goons, knocking him out. He dragged the man into the shadows just as the other two turned back.

“Hey,” the second gun-wielding man cried, “Larry, where’d ya g—”

He was cut off by a thin cord wrapping around his waist and yanking him straight into Robin's fist. Unconscious and sporting a broken nose, he joined the first man on the ground.

The notetaker turned at the sound of his colleague’s voice and now looked visibly frightened by the absence of the other two. He started spinning around violently trying to find their attacker, which provided more than enough distraction for Robin to take him out. He picked up the notebook that the man had dropped when he was knocked unconscious and pocketed it to be examined later.

The first group taken care of, he surveyed the club again. Luckily, the remaining goons didn't seem to notice their missing compatriots, which meant he still had the element of surprise. He was about to move to the next group when he heard Batman's gruff voice in his ear.

“Spoiler and I are on location. What's the situation inside?”

“Three men at the back entrance, six more guarding two groups of hostages. Already dealt with the men at the front door and those guarding another group. Fifteen hostages total, all will need the antidote. A civilian spotted Scarecrow, but I haven't laid eyes on him,” he reported, voice low.

“Alright. Spoiler, you take the front entrance, I'll handle the back. Incapacitate first, then start administering your supply of the antidote,” Batman ordered.

“Roger that,” Spoiler replied.

“Robin, find Scarecrow.”

He grunted an affirmative, then headed for the stairs that led to the VIP area. Even after all these years, he still got a funny feeling in his chest when his father trusted him enough to handle the bad guys on his own without using excessive brutality. Deep down, the insecure part of himself that he preferred to ignore wondered when he would finally believe he had earned that trust.

Shaking off those thoughts, he crept up the stairs. As he reached the landing, he heard the unmistakable sound of bodies dropping. This had the added bonus of making his hunt for Scarecrow easier, as a distressed voice was soon added to the mix.

“Shit, the Bats are here. I wasn't able to finish my observations! Shit, shit, gotta get out. Where's the damn exit?”

“Boo.”

Letting out a screech, Scarecrow whirled around to face Robin, who couldn’t suppress his smirk at the reaction. It faded when he saw the syringe in the villain’s hand.

“Not another step, or you’ll get to personally experience my latest batch of fear toxin!” Scarecrow cried. “That’s right! This one is more potent than ever! So you better let me walk out of here or—”

Suddenly, he froze, cutting off his speech.

“I’ve been waiting to give him a taste of his own medicine.”

The speaker stepped up next to the frozen villain, rolling her eyes. “And why do they all talk like that, no matter where they're from? It's like they took a class or something.”

Of course she was here. Menagerie had on a black bodysuit with yellow accents tonight. Horizontal yellow stripes ringed her calves and forearms, and three more stripes circled her waist. Her black hair now had yellow stripes as well—maybe extensions, he wondered absently. Her bangs were pinned back with a hair comb decorated with a brightly colored bee. Then he saw the top in her hand with an extremely sharp point and registered her words.

“Is that—” he started to ask, eyes widening.

“What? Oh! No, no,” she rushed to explain, “this is just a paralytic. I would never use fear toxin, even on him.” She poked the statue-like man in the arm as she said this. “You should probably restrain him before it wears off, though.”

As he moved to do so, he heard the crackle of his comm coming to life. “Scarecrow’s men have been restrained and the antidotes are being administered to the hostages inside the club,” Batman stated.

“Although it seems like it’s taking longer than usual to take effect,” Spoiler added.

“Agreed,” Red Robin chimed in. “The response team has arrived and delivered the antidote to the people outside, but they’re still not back to normal.”

“Scarecrow said this was a new, more potent version,” Robin informed them. He secured the restraints and plucked the syringe from the man’s hand, depositing it safely in his utility belt. “He had a sample on him, so we will be able to analyze it.”

“Keep an eye on him. We’re going to get the hostages out, and then we’ll help you move him,” Batman said.

Menagerie drew his attention by turning from her examination of Scarecrow to throw him a smirk. “You know, we actually make a pretty good team. You distract them while I come in with the sneak attack!”

He raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised by the lack of teasing that usually came with that look on her face. Shaking it off, he replied gruffly, “Serving only as a distraction would be a waste of my skills.”

When her smirk deepened and she took a step closer to him, he realized that it was the exact wrong thing to say. “I don’t know,” she murmured, reaching up and running a finger along the edge of his mask underneath his right eye, “You’re quite good at distracting me.”

Heat instantly bloomed across his face, though it burned hottest along the path her finger had traced. It must have been dark enough for her to see in the dim lighting of the club, because she threw her head back and laughed.

“Robin, is someone with you?” Spoiler asked. It seemed the laughter was loud enough for his comm to pick up.

Feeling absolutely zero sympathy for the animal-themed woman in that moment, he decided to reveal her presence. “Yes. Menagerie is here.” It was his turn to smirk as the laughter abruptly stopped.

“Oh fuck!” Spoiler shouted. He knew she was headed their way.

“‘Menagerie’?” the woman in front of him asked.

“The names you give me change every time I see you. We decided to come up with our own,” he shrugged.

She tilted her head in contemplation. “I kinda like it,” she decided, “but tonight I’m Apoidea.”

His eyes tracked her movement as she started backing away from him. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a feeling at least one of your teammates is going to get here any minute, and I have places to be. No pun intended.”

She winked and then leapt into the air. A pair of insect wings unfolded from her back, and she flew straight up through an open window near the ceiling. Not a moment later, Spoiler raced over to where he was standing.

She looked around frantically, then visibly deflated. “She left, didn’t she?” she groaned. She continued without waiting for confirmation. “Well c’mon, we should get Scarecrow.”

She paused when she saw the man. “What—”

“Paralytic, courtesy of Menagerie. Well, Apoidea, this time,” he corrected.

Spoiler let out a huff of amusement. “That girl just gets more interesting. Alright, let’s get this guy out of here.”

They each grabbed one of Scarecrow’s bound arms and dragged him out of the club. Once they had handed him off to the police on the scene, Robin started scanning the crowd.

“Looking for someone?” Red Robin asked from where he appeared by Robin’s side.

“Yes,” he answered, still looking. At that moment, he spotted Marinette rushing over to a small group of people. He started walking toward her, ignoring whatever his brother was saying.

As he moved closer, he saw one of the girls in the group grab Marinette in a tight hug, relief evident. Shock briefly flitted across Marinette’s face, but it faded as she returned the hug. Then, he was close enough to hear the other girl’s lecture.

“—and once we got outside, we were so worried when we realized you weren’t with us! Then when we couldn’t find you after we got the antidote, we thought you might be one of the hostages!”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. We must’ve been split up by the crowd, but as you can see, I’m fine!” Marinette comforted.

“We know, we were just concerned. You haven’t been in Gotham long, after all,” one of the boys chimed in, placing his hand on Marinette’s shoulder. Robin didn’t like the sight of that—though he wasn’t sure why—so he decided it was time to interrupt.

“Ahem.”

Everyone but Marinette jumped at the sound of his voice; the only sign that she was startled was the widening of her eyes. Ignoring the rest of them, he turned to her. “Thank you for the information. It helped me capture Scarecrow before he escaped.” He hesitated but found the next words coming from his mouth anyway. “How are you feeling?”

In his peripherals, he could see all her friends gaping at them, but he was focused on her. More accurately, her reassuring smile.

“As I told them,” she said, gesturing to the group of people, “I’m fine, I got a dose of the antidote. And I’m happy I was able to help.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, he turned and headed back to where his family was gathered. Just before he was out of earshot, he could hear his fellow students burst into excited chattering. He rolled his eyes.

Once he was standing with his family again, he pulled out the notebook he had taken from the goon. Before he could say anything, however, Red Robin spoke up.

“What was that? You usually avoid talking to civilians,” he said, clearly burning with curiosity.

“She’s the person who told me where to find Scarecrow. I was thanking her,” Robin replied impatiently.

“You? Thanking somebody, much less a random civilian? Did I get hit in the head during the fight?” Spoiler said with exaggerated disbelief.

He caught himself before he could point out that she wasn’t a random civilian, knowing that would only make the pestering worse. “Can you focus?” he hissed, waving the notebook in the air. “Scarecrow made a comment about ‘observing’ the hostages, and I got this off one of his men. It looked like he was taking notes.”

“So this was all just one big experiment?” Red Robin shook his head in disgust.

Batman, who had been silent up until now, took charge. “You two head back to the Cave. Robin, start going through the journal, see what you can find. Red, begin analyzing the sample Robin obtained. Spoiler, we’ll finish up here and cover the rest of patrol.”

“You got it, B-man.” Spoiler spun and marched over to the crisis response team. The two brothers each nodded and pulled out their grappling hooks, simultaneously swinging off into the night.

The next morning, Damian sat in the lecture hall for his business class, sipping on some caffeinated monstrosity he had stolen from Tim. He had been up way too late the night before combing through the notebook. Not only did it have notes from the scene at the club, but it also detailed previous experiments that had been conducted much more quietly.

He shook his head, pushing the subject out of his mind for now. He looked over as Marinette stomped down their row of seat, flinging herself into the chair next to him, all while muttering an impressive string of curse words in three—no, four—different languages under her breath.

“What’s up with you?” he asked casually, hiding his amusement.

She shot him a glare. “What, you haven’t heard? Robin and I are in love.”

He choked on his drink. Coughing a few times, he managed to let out a strangled “What?”

“Did you hear about the club Scarecrow attacked?” He nodded, still trying to regulate his breathing. “I was there, and I was able to pass information along to Robin about the situation before he went in. He thanked me afterwards, which is apparently a big deal because he notoriously avoids interacting with civilians.”

Damian frowned. He didn’t think he was that obvious about it.

“Anyway, between my friends and the other people who witnessed it, half the school has heard. Rumors range from he’s confessed his love to me but I’m playing hard to get, to we’re secretly dating but he can’t acknowledge it in public for my protection.” Her voice took on a slightly more hysterical tint. “I’ve had three people this morning ask if I’ve seen him without his suit on because he, and I quote, ‘must have the body of an Adonis.’ Three!”

Luckily, he wasn’t drinking his coffee at that moment, or he would’ve choked again. “Just ignore them. Something new will catch their attention soon.”

She sighed. “I know. I was just hoping when I came here that I could breeze through college unnoticed, and yet it’s been just over a month and here I am.” She shook her head and began pulling out her materials for class. A little quieter, almost to herself, she said, “I just don’t see what the big deal is. He seemed perfectly nice to me.”

Damian ducked his head to hide the blush that he definitely wouldn’t be able to explain, while wondering when he started caring what people thought of Robin beyond his skills as a vigilante.

He was distracted when something in Marinette’s hair caught the light. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and as she bent over her bag, he could just make out the rose gold hair comb holding it up. He leaned just a smidge closer so he could make out the design on it. What he saw caused him to freeze.

It was a bee.

Chapter Text

The next evening, Damian sat at the meeting table in the Cave, wondering why he bothered to tell them anything.

“You’re saying your school girlfriend and your hero girlfriend are the same person? Sounds awfully convenient to me,” Jason said, keeping his eyes on the bullet he was repeatedly tossing up in the air and catching.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Damian growled, clenching his fists.

“Which one?” Cass teased.

“Either of them!” he snapped.

“Guys, stop,” Dick shot the others a look, then focused on Damian. “We’re not saying you’re wrong—we know you have good instincts, you were raised by the best on both fronts—but a similar hair accessory and a sighting at the same place? That’s not much to go on.”

“I know,” Damian said, rubbing his forehead, “but I can’t shake the feeling that they’re connected.”

“Maybe she’s involved in another way,” Barbara suggested. “You said this girl—Marinette, right?—is studying fashion? She could be the partner who makes the suits.”

“Perhaps,” Damian mused, though he wasn’t convinced.

At that moment, Tim and Bruce walked over from where they had been in deep discussion by the Batcomputer, halting any further conversation on the topic.

“Analysis of the new fear toxin shows that the effects were amplified by the addition of mescaline, a hallucinogen that’s gaining popularity in being used for studies on neural origins of psychotic symptoms. It’s hard to find; only a handful of companies in Gotham keep it in supply,” Bruce announced.

“GothCorp, Daggett Industries, and Wayne Medical,” Tim listed.

“So either shady business deals, which are the m.o. of the first two companies, or robbery,” Barbara inferred. “Which one are we thinking?”

Bruce frowned. “If it was robbery, it was covered up. Either way, it will take significant digging to find the source.”

“Meaning no answers anytime soon,” Cass translated.

“Unfortunately.” Tim ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then brightened. “But on the plus side, the new antidote should be easy to synthesize.”

“Good,” Stephanie said, nose wrinkling. “That batch did not look fun to deal with.”

“With that taken care of,” Bruce segued, “Jason, your report on the drug trafficking ring?”

Damian settled back into his seat, mostly listening to his brother’s story. Still, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help mull over the connection between Menagerie and Marinette. He would figure it out, sooner or later.

On patrol the next night, Menagerie caught up to him fairly quickly. “Toro,” was all she said when she arrived.

Her outfit was styled after the traje de luces that Spanish bullfighters wear—her dark blue bodysuit was covered by a short jacket with armored shoulders. Her legs were covered by blue fabric until just past her knees, where it then changed to black all the way down to her blue-slippered feet. Her black necktie matched the black detailing on all the blue material, including her blue domino mask. Attached at her neck was a short blue cape, also covered in intricate black embroidery. Her hair stuck out from the sides of her head in braided pigtails. They were probably meant to be reminiscent of ox horns, but they reminded him more of a girl in some kid’s book that Dick had tried to force him to read when he first moved into Wayne Manor. A small, dark blue nose ring with yellow spikes hung from her septum, and he could see an honest-to-God lance sticking up behind her shoulder from where it was strapped to her back.

This was certainly her most eye-catching suit yet, but what Robin primarily noticed was the unusually solemn look on her face. A bit wary about what it meant, he waited for her to speak again.

“You weren’t out last night.” Coming from anyone else, it would’ve sounded like an accusation.

“We rotate patrols so that everyone has at least one or two days off each week,” he explained. Technically, he shouldn’t be telling her this because she was not an official ally of theirs, but somehow he knew that he was more likely to magically become an extrovert than she was to sell or take advantage of the information.

“Mm.” A hum and a nod were all she gave him.

“Did you…need something?” He was not accustomed to being the one to have to pry between the two of them. Is this how other people felt when they talked to him?

“Why does he do it?”

Her apparent non-sequitur prompted another question. “Who?”

“Scarecrow. Why does he do it? What’s his motivation?” Her voice remained flat as she elaborated.

“Ah.” That made a lot more sense. Robin looked down from the roof, scanning the nearby area. He gestured for her to follow as he leapt to the next building and repeated the process.

“Jonathan Crane, better known as Scarecrow, was abused by his father in the form of being a test subject for his fear-based experiments. Because of this, he developed an obsession with fear. He was actually a well-respected psychologist specializing in phobias, until he dumped spiders on an arachnophobic student while teaching at Gotham U and it was revealed that he was testing what is now his fear toxin on his patients.”

He went to move on to the next building but paused when he registered that Toro wasn’t following. He turned to see her staring at him, horrified.

“That’s awful,” she finally breathed. “Are all your villains rooted in trauma like that?”

“No,” he replied. “I still have to do patrol, so I’ll give you answers, but we have to keep moving.”

She nodded, and as they observed the next street over, he elaborated.

“Some of the people we take on are mobsters, like the Falcones or the Maronis. Others are corrupt businesspeople, like Rupert Thorne.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, most of the ones the media focuses on are those dealing with trauma or mental illness. Two-Face was the city’s district attorney until he was scarred when someone he prosecuted threw acid in his face. The Riddler does not appear to have obsessive-compulsive disorder as it’s clinically defined, but he does suffer from obsessions and compulsions surrounding riddles. Poison Ivy was manipulated by her mentor so that he could experiment on her with poisons and toxins; she gained her powers, but she also nearly died twice in the process.”

“They should be getting help, not being gawked at by the city!” she cried.

“Believe me, I know.” He jumped the small gap to the next roof, and she was close behind. “But Arkham Asylum is trash. Harley Quinn used to work there as a psychiatrist, and Joker managed to get his hooks in her right under the noses of the rest of the staff. Some of the prominent members of the community have been pushing for reform, but the city keeps pumping money into the police instead,” he scowled. “Batman tried to help many of them, with varying success, but it can be challenging for them to stay stable when the corruption in the city works to drag them back down.”

She frowned for a moment, thinking. “What about those people who showed up with the antidote? They didn’t look like cops.”

A quick glance down showed that the streets were quiet here, too. “The crisis response team,” he replied. “The Wayne family spearheaded that project a few years ago. According to Bruce Wayne, after conversations with local activists he realized that there’s no possible way for the police to be properly trained to handle all the…interesting situations civilians get caught in in this city. There are multiple teams, each specialized in responding to the aftermath of different villains. The one you saw last night handles poisonings by Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, and others. Some focus more on handling major injuries, like the ones caused by Bane and his henchmen. All teams are staffed with therapists, medical professionals, and other necessary specialists; the rest of the people are volunteers.”

“That’s amazing,” Toro said, once Robin finished his information dump. She gazed out at the city. “The people of Gotham must be strong to be able to survive all this and still want to help others.”

Copying her, he looked over the city as well. “Yeah. This city has been put through the ringer, but we always come out on the other side.”

Friday afternoon, Damian found himself sitting in a relatively new coffee shop near campus, working on his Intro to Business project with Marinette. He didn’t have class at this time, and Marinette’s only one had been cancelled, so she had suggested the outing.

It had been going well—that is to say, he had been ignoring his suspicions despite the fact that she had been wearing a fucking nose ring all week—until another group of college freshmen showed up. The girls chose a table in his line of sight, meaning he could see them staring and giggling and whispering to each other. He grit his teeth and tried his best to ignore them.

“Damian?” Marinette’s concerned voice broke through his concentration.

“What?” he growled.

“You’re typing like you’re trying to murder your keyboard,” she pointed out.

He stopped and took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but his efforts were thwarted by another round of giggles. Seeing the look on his face, she shot a surreptitious glance over her shoulder and immediately noticed the girls.

“Oh,” she said, understanding. Then, “If it’s bothering you this much, you could go ask them to stop.”

He shook his head. “I’m too annoyed right now. If I went over there, I’d end up making a scene.”

“So?” She raised an eyebrow.

That response surprised him. Did she not know who he was and that it would end up in some tabloid if he berated the group? Wracking his brain, he realized that they had never had a conversation about his family—at least, not one about who his family was. He found himself enjoying the anonymity and gave her an answer that wouldn’t ruin it.

“I had some anger management issues when I was younger. I’ve had enough lectures about causing a scene to last a lifetime,” he said, not untruthfully.

“We could move to a different coffee shop,” she offered. When she caught sight of his hands, now clenched into fists, she reconsidered. “Or maybe we should just call it a day. I’d offer up my place, but I’m in the middle of a few projects so it looks like a fabric bomb went off.”

He considered his options. They could meet another time to keep working, but they had made a lot of progress so far and he’d rather keep the momentum going. Plus, he preferred to work ahead, as the unpredictable nature of his extracurricular activities made it difficult to leave things to the last minute. Going to another public place was out of the question; they would almost certainly be followed.

Realizing that the only option left would result in him losing the anonymity he had only just discovered, he sighed. “We can go to my place.”

“Okay!” she agreed without hesitation. They gathered up their things and quickly made their way outside.

Once they were standing on the street, she looked at him. “How long is the walk?”

He shook his head and directed them down the sidewalk toward the parking garage that held his car while he was at school. “Actually, we’re driving.”

“Oh,” she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I like walking around the city.”

He froze. “By yourself?”

His alarm must’ve shown on his face, because she tried to reassure him. “Yes, but I only do it during the day, and I know how to protect myself.”

He would’ve been less trusting of her last statement if he weren’t halfway convinced she was a vigilante. But just in case she wasn’t, he said, “Make sure you bring pepper spray and stay aware of your surroundings.”

She leaned toward him, a grin on her face. “Are you worried about me? How sweet.” Before he could protest, she changed the subject. “Anyway, why are we driving?”

“I grew up in Gotham, and I decided to live at home during school, even though it’s farther from the university than an apartment or the dorms would be,” he explained.

“Oh, to save money?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he replied evasively.

Any further questions from Marinette were cut off by their arrival at his Stingray. They slid inside, and she looked around, taking in the sleek interior.

“This is…nice,” she said, a little suspicious. “Are you, uh, into cars?”

“Not really,” Damian answered, unwilling to give anything away quite yet. She’d figure out why he was driving something expensive as soon as she saw the manor.

“Oh, okay. Can I pick the music?” she asked, an eager look on her face.

“Sure, the car has Bluetooth.” He wasn’t expecting her squeal of excitement, and he definitely wasn’t expecting the French rap that started blasting from the speakers.

He glanced over at her, about to comment on the music choice, but stopped when he saw her flawlessly rapping along with the song. It was kind of…endearing. Of course, when she arched an eyebrow and her lips curled into a smirk, never breaking the flow of the words, as she caught him watching, it shifted from endearing to electrifying.

He swallowed and faced forward again.

They continued like this until they made their way out of the city proper. It was before rush hour, so they reached the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge fairly quickly. Once they started crossing it, Marinette turned the volume down until she could be heard over it.

“I’ve never been this far out of the city, except for the airport,” she said, face practically pressed to the glass as they drove over the water. “I didn’t realize people lived out here.”

“My family has been in Gotham for a long time,” he explained vaguely. “The house we live in has been passed down through the generations.”

She gave him a look as if he were a puzzle she was trying to figure out but didn’t say anything else.

They continued to drive with only the music breaking the silence between them. She watched the scenery until they reached the large gate marking the Wayne property.

“Mon dieu,” she breathed, eyes widening as they moved down the driveway, the manor growing larger and larger.

Finally, they reached the end, and Damian parked the car along the edge of the driveway, to the right of the main entrance. They stepped out, and he walked over to the passenger side, where Marinette was standing and staring at the building. He stood next to her, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to process the situation.

Suddenly, she whipped around to face him. “You called it a house, not a mansion!”

Feeling a bit like the bratty kid he used to be, he shot back, “Actually, we prefer the term ‘manor,’”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, and then sighed. “You rich kids are all the same.” She shook her head. “This explains so much about you.”

“Oh? Like what?” he asked, heading to the front doors.

“The car, the clothes, the fangirls,” she listed, trailing alongside him. “Oh, and the weirdly formal way of talking you sometimes slip into.”

He opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by the doors swinging open.

“Master Damian, welcome home.” Alfred, as always, had impeccable timing. “And you brought a guest. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss…”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Just Marinette is fine!”

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss Marinette. My name is Alfred.”

Marinette looked like she wanted to protest the formality, but Damian caught her eye and subtly shook his head. He knew it wasn’t worth it.

“Hello Alfred. Do you know where the rest of the family is?” He hoped that the butler’s ability to know, well, everything would work in his favor.

“Masters Bruce, Richard, and Timothy are at Wayne Enterprises, and Miss Barbara is at the library. Master Jason is still…traveling, and Miss Stephanie and Miss Cassandra are attending an aerial silks class,” Alfred informed them.

Perfect. He should be able to get Marinette out of here before any of them got home, none the wiser.

“I will prepare some snacks while you get settled and bring them to you. Unless the two of you would prefer some privacy.”

Damian heard Marinette choke on air at Alfred’s insinuation. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the red he felt coloring his cheeks. “She’s here to work on a project for class, nothing else.”

“Ah, so you will be in the library then.” Without waiting for confirmation, Alfred disappeared.

Damian shook his head, then started leading the way to the library. “I apologize for Alfred. He’s our butler in name, but truly our grandfather. And he really wants great-grandchildren.”

“It’s fine!” Marinette squeaked, then cleared her throat. “So, you’re part of the Wayne family, huh? I didn’t know.”

He snorted. “How many Wayne families did you think there were in Gotham?”

“Hey, I’m foreign, it could be a popular name for all I know!” she said defensively. Then, more inquisitively, “Are all those people Alfred named your family members?”

“More or less,” he said. “Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Cassandra Cain are my adopted siblings. Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown are close family friends who are basically our sisters. And I’m sure even you know who Bruce Wayne is,” he teased.

She shot him a dirty look, and he chuckled, before continuing. “Most of my siblings don’t live here, but everyone has a room and we often have family dinner.” And, of course, they frequently gather in the basement to go out and fight crime, but he wasn’t about to include that little tidbit.

They reached the ornate doors to the library, which he promptly pulled open.

An hour later, they were wrapping up the work that they had wanted to get done on their project. They were outlining what they still had left to do when the sound of a car door slamming made Damian freeze. He abruptly stood, ignoring Marinette’s confused expression, and walked over to the window.

Shit. Cassandra and Stephanie were climbing out of Cass’ car. He turned back to his partner.

“We need to go.” He didn't bother with his stuff—he'd come back for it later. He helped her gather her things and ushered her out into the hallway.

“Damian, what—”

“Shh,” he interrupted. Silence was crucial now. He considered their options. The main entrance was obviously compromised, but depending on how long his sisters were talking to Alfred, they could probably make it to the door at the end of the hallway leading to the side garden and then sneak their way around from there. Just as he grabbed her elbow to pull her along, his plans were ruined.

“Dami, when Alfred told us you had a guest over, we thought he had been listening to too many of those comedy podcasts he tries to hide from us.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh, resigned to his fate. “Brown.”

She ignored him. “Hi! I'm Stephanie, this miscreant’s sister!” In the blink of an eye, Steph had Marinette wrapped in a hug. Marinette stiffened and then gently hugged her back, shooting Damian a look over the older woman’s shoulder. Her face had gone from confused to downright bewildered.

“Cass,” the other woman smiled.

By the time Steph released her, Marinette had recovered. “Salut, I'm Marinette.”

Damian could see his sisters zeroing in on the backpack the French girl had slug haphazardly over one shoulder. “Dami wasn’t rushing you out of here, was he?” Steph gave him an unimpressed look.

“You should stay for dinner,” Cass offered.

Alright, he had heard enough. “Actually, Marinette has work to do at home, so if you’ll excuse us—” He tried to push past them, but they weren’t having it.

“Don’t be rude, Little D,” Cass chastised.

Steph crossed her arms. “Yes, let Marinette make the decision for herself.” With that, they both turned to her in expectation.

Marinette gave them an apologetic grin. “Sorry, but he’s right, I do have stuff to work on.” When their expressions fell, she hurried to add, “But I would love to come back for a meal another day!”

“Great!” Steph brightened, and then turned to lead them back to the main entrance. “We’ll need to get your number, of course—Dami is useless at making plans with others—and then we can pick a day…”

He groaned internally as he shadowed the three women. This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

As they neared the front doors, Stephanie fell back a few steps until she was next to him while Cassandra and Marinette were caught up in a conversation about their favorite Chinese dishes.

“She’s the civilian from the club!” Steph said excitedly, keeping her voice low enough that only he would hear.

“Yes,” he replied, silently willing her to drop this, at least until Marinette was gone.

Instead, she shook her head. “I should’ve put it together when you told us you saw her there.”  Then, a self-satisfied grin spread across her face. “The others are going to be pissed that Cass and I got to meet her first.”

“Can we not do this now?” he hissed, nodding significantly at Marinette’s back.

“Fiiine,” she said, dragging out the word. “Looks like it’s time for you to go anyway.”

They had reached the main hall, and Damian had no qualms about dragging Marinette out the door while his sisters called their goodbyes and promises to text. It was only once they were seated in his car that she spoke to him.

“Damian…what was that?”

He sighed. “That was my family.”

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since the incident with Scarecrow. Two weeks of investigating and they weren’t any closer to identifying the mescaline supplier. Otherwise, it was quiet in the criminal world. Some might say too quiet. That’s why Damian wasn’t surprised when he got a call from Barbara.

He had just stepped out of his business class, silently lamenting Monday mornings after patrol, when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and, upon seeing the familiar name on caller ID, hit the accept button.

Before he could greet her, Barbara spoke, her voice urgent and deadly serious. “Safehouse, now. And turn on the TV.” She immediately hung up.

“Shit.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket and raced to their nearest safehouse. It was in one of the Waynes’ apartment buildings that Bruce bought to provide rent-free housing to those in need, as well as establish bases to serve as mini-Batcaves for the team if a crisis arose while they were in the city.

Damian didn’t bother with the elevators, instead choosing to book it up the stairs until he reached the seventh floor; luckily, no one was around to witness it. More calmly, he exited the stairwell and walked to the nondescript door of his family’s apartment. He gripped the handle, discreetly pressing his thumb to the fingerprint sensor hidden on it. The lock clicked, and he pushed in.

He immediately headed to the bedroom closet and slid the false back to the side, revealing a row of silver cases. He grabbed the one marked with his symbol and took it to the living room. As Barbara had instructed, he turned on the TV, which was set to the news channel. After making sure the blinds on the windows were closed, he began to strip.

The Riddler’s face grinned at him from the screen. He had clearly overridden the channel’s signal, as he was in an unremarkable room that held no obvious clues to the location. He ignored that, knowing Barbara was already tracing the interruption. Instead, he focused on the man’s words.

“—and Batman, I hope you and your aviary are watching, because I’ve left a little present for you somewhere in the city. And you know what they say about small packages!”

Damian grimaced as the villain cackled. Riddler hadn’t pulled a stunt as dangerous as a bomb in a long time. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Now Gotham, you know I always give your heroes a fighting chance, and this time is no different.” Riddler brought a fist up to his mouth and cleared his throat.

“My protectors are many, but they’re not very effective,

Athena and Apollo blessed me, they can be quite selective,

I’m home to the best and brightest, though they’re sometimes defective,

Now Bats, you must hurry, if you wish to stop my objective!”

As soon as he was finished, the TV cut to static.

A little while later, Robin was standing on the roof of Wayne Tower with Batman and the rest of the team.

“You all heard the riddle, correct?” Batman asked. Everyone nodded. “Good. Preliminary thoughts?”

“It’s much simpler than usual,” Nightwing stated.

Red Hood scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s fucking vague as hell.”

Their comms crackled, and then Oracle spoke up. “The fact that he broadcasted it on TV could be a clue.”

“Oracle is right,” Batman said. “A TV broadcast means mass panic. It follows that the bomb would be placed in a location that would do the same.”

“Public institutions, apartment buildings, large businesses,” Batgirl listed.

Spoiler let out a frustrated sound. “That’s too much ground for us to cover, and we don’t even know how much time we have until the bomb goes off!”

“He always gives us time to try to solve his riddles, so we probably have at least an hour left,” Red Robin replied.

“So let’s do it,” Robin said firmly. “‘Protectors who aren’t effective’ implies some kind of security who have failed to prevent an attack in the past.”

“Most places in Gotham have protection, and the entire city’s been attacked multiple times,” Hood pointed out.

“True, but attacks on apartment buildings typically aren’t high-profile, so they probably wouldn’t be enough to catch Riddler’s attention,” Nightwing countered.

“Good,” Batman said gruffly, “we’ll tentatively rule out those locations.”

“Athena is the goddess of wisdom, war, and handicraft; Apollo is the god of healing, medicine, archery, poetry, and the sun. That’s…a lot of options.” Red Robin pushed a hand through his bangs, briefly revealing his furrowed brow.

“Start with what’s most obvious,” Batgirl said.

“‘Healing and medicine’ could be referring to hospitals or pharmaceutical companies,” Spoiler mused.

“‘Wisdom’ could imply schools or businesses that have educational programs,” Robin continued.

“I don’t think archery has anything to do with it. Arrow’s not currently involved in any businesses in the city, and Huntress hasn’t lived here for a while,” Hood said.

“Agreed,” Batman nodded.

“‘War and handicraft’ might refer to companies that manufacture weapons or other goods, but I don’t think those would fit with the other clues,” Red Robin frowned.

Nightwing placed his hands on his hips. “That leaves ‘poetry,’ which could mean the library, and ‘sun,’ which I can’t think of an immediate connection to.”

Once again, their comms came to life. “I managed to find the warehouse where Riddler recorded his message. As we anticipated, he’s no longer there,” Oracle reported. “I’m going to start tracking his movements leading up to the broadcast using street cams.”

“Then let’s move on to the last clue,” Batman said. “‘I'm home to the city's best and brightest, though sometimes they are defective.’ Taking it into consideration with everything else we've discussed, what do we think are the most likely targets?”

Almost immediately, Batgirl said, “Arkham.” At the team's inquisitive looks, she elaborated. “People escape all the time, it's supposed to provide treatment, it has an internship program, and many of the residents were respected professionals before they ended up there.”

“And an explosion there would cause a shit ton of panic. Fuck,” Hood swore.

Suddenly Robin felt a cold sense of dread run through him as he realized another potential target. “Gotham University,” he said, a hard edge to his voice. “Campus police are notoriously useless, it's known for the med program, and the students would be the ‘best and brightest.’”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his team exchange concerned glances. Then, Spoiler’s face turned stony.

“I've got one more,” she said. “Wayne Tower. It has the gargoyles, there's the internship program, Wayne Medical headquarters is here, and,” she finished with a rueful smile, “the Wayne family are some of Gotham's best and brightest, right?”

“Does anyone else have any suggestions?” Batman asked. Everyone shook their heads. “Okay. We’ll head to the locations and help with evacuation first, then search for the bomb. Nightwing, Batgirl, go to Arkham. Spoiler, Red Hood, take Gotham U. Red Robin, Robin, Wayne Tower.”

Before he could continue giving orders, a bright light flashed above their heads. Robin looked up in time to see some sort of portal opening up and a person falling through. They landed in a crouch in the middle of the circle of teammates, then stood up with their back facing him. Everyone was immediately on the defensive. Before anyone could make a move, the figure spoke.

“I know where the bomb is.”

He knew that voice. “Menagerie?”

She spun around. “Robin!” she exclaimed, distress clear in her voice and on her face. “Please, you have to believe me! I know where the bomb is,” she repeated.

“How?” Hood demanded.

“Because I saw it go off!” She took a deep breath, then continued in a slightly calmer tone, “That portal I just came from leads to a pocket dimension that allows me to travel to different points in time.”

She turned back to Robin, eyes pleading. “I already failed to stop this once. Let me help you. Please.”

He looked at her, taking in her new appearance. She was covered head-to-toe in dark silver, from the ribbon tying her hair back in a sleek ponytail to the pumps on her feet. She seemed to be wearing a collared button-down and slim business slacks, though at a second glance he could see that the shirt and pants were actually connected. Over the shirt was a waistcoat with a pocket watch nestled in the left pocket. She almost could have passed as an average businesswoman, were it not for the mask covering her upper face, the umbrella strapped to her back, and the weirdly lifelike rabbit ears on her head.

This appraisal lasted a few seconds at most, in which Robin reflected on the sense of trust he felt for her. Here he was, about to vouch for a woman whose name he didn’t even know, and yet he couldn’t muster up any regret about it.

He broke eye contact with her and met the collective gaze of his family. “It’s not like time travel is the strangest thing we’ve seen.”

Red Robin crossed his arms in response and directed his next comment at the interloper. “Robin may trust you, but why should the rest of us when you’ve gone out of your way to avoid meeting us?”

She winced. “That’s fair, and I would explain everything if we had time, but we don’t.” She turned to Batman. “I’m not asking you to completely change your plan. I just need someone who can disarm a bomb to come with me. That way, if I’m wrong or tricking you or whatever you may think, you still have backup plans.”

Their leader narrowed his eyes, considering. “Where is the bomb?” he finally asked.

“Here. Wayne Tower.”

Robin tensed and could tell the rest of his family did as well, though only because he was so familiar with them. Still, Batman didn’t miss a beat. “Robin, Red, with her. The rest of you, as discussed.”

In a flurry of movement, everyone was gone but the three of them. Red Robin immediately began questioning the woman. “Where in the tower is it located? What kind of bomb is it? How much time do we have until it goes off?”

He could see his friend’s hand shaking just slightly as she pulled out the pocket watch and flipped it open. “We have about thirty minutes until detonation. But I don’t—don’t know…” Her voice trembled, then faltered, and her rabbit ears actually drooped. He could tell that whatever reserve she had drawn upon earlier was fading fast, so he intervened.

“What’s your name?”

She turned to him, startled. “What?”

“Today, what should we call you?” he asked firmly.

“Argenté.” His reminder of her role as hero seemed to work, as he saw a spark flash in her eyes the second before she whirled back to face Red Robin. “I don’t know the exact location, but from what I could see the building collapsed at a low point. And I never got close enough to the aftermath to see remnants of the bomb.”

“Okay,” he said, “between the clues and what you saw, I think we should check out the underground research and development department first. If we don’t find anything, we’ll work our way up from there. Sound like a plan?”

The other two nodded, and they were off.

Ten minutes later, Robin was in the process of disarming the bomb while Red Robin and Argenté evacuated the workers who had been tied up in a few of the labs. Nightwing and Spoiler had returned to the tower to lead the evacuation of the employees on the floors above ground.

Once he cut the last wire and the countdown halted, he examined the explosive. What he saw made him frown. He pressed a finger to his comm and spoke.

“This bomb isn’t enough to take down the whole tower. It’s not the only one.”

He heard cursing, and then Nightwing responded. “Spoiler and I will be down to help comb the rest of the department.”

“Argenté and I too,” Red Robin added.

Robin went back to work.

Another fifteen minutes had passed, and the five of them had found and dismantled four additional bombs scattered throughout the labs. They had scoured the entire department and not found anything else, but no one wanted to take the risk that they had missed something. While his teammates started going through the basement again, Robin pulled Argenté aside.

“Get out of here,” he ordered.

She gaped. “What?”

“Get out of here,” he repeated more forcefully, towering over the fellow vigilante.

“I thought you wanted my help,” she said, voice rising, “and now, at the last minute, you’re telling me to get lost?” Her eyes gleamed and her cheeks flushed with anger.

“Exactly, it’s the last minute,” he hissed, leaning further into her space. “And if something goes wrong, you need to be clear so you can go back again to fix it.”

Argenté’s mouth set. “What about the rest of you?”

Robin shook his head. “There’s still enough time for us to disarm any remaining bombs we find now that we know what we’re working with. We’ll be okay.”

The underlying “Unless something unexpected happens” went unsaid, but he could see it written across her face. She was clearly unhappy about his plan, but finally she nodded.

Argenté took a step back, but instead of turning, she changed directions and leapt forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. In his shock, he hesitated for a moment before circling his own around her waist.

“Be safe,” she murmured in his comm-less ear. He hummed an affirmation back, and then she was gone.

The next five minutes were a flurry of action as Robin and his team raced through the basement. When there was one minute left until potential detonation and they had not discovered any remaining bombs, they retreated to the bunker Batman had installed under the tower when rebuilding from the earthquake that had razed much of the city.

“Nightwing, reporting to confirm the location of myself, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Robin in the bunker,” his teammate spoke into his comm.

“Menagerie?” they heard Batman’s voice question.

“I sent her away with instructions to travel back if something goes wrong again,” Robin said.

Just then, Oracle cut in. “The clock that she gave us has officially run down, but I wouldn’t put it past Riddler to have a backup plan.”

Batman grunted in agreement. “We’ll work on confirming the scene is clear. Until then, remain where you are.”

By the time they were cleared to leave the bunker, Damian had to rush back to campus to make his afternoon classes—it was Gotham, a little evacuation wasn’t going to slow them down—so he had no time to search for Menagerie and check on, no, debrief with her. He spent his time in class watching the clock, doing his best to appear like nothing was out of the ordinary. A few peers asked him about the thwarted attack on Wayne Tower, but he feigned ignorance, maintaining that he had been part of the situation on campus.

Even after his classes had finished, it was much too early for Menagerie to be out. He was temporarily distracted by a meeting with his family, but it was short-lived, as the follow-up investigation into the incident had not yet yielded much information. The explosives were fairly easy to get a hold of, and due to blind spots in the street cams, Oracle was unable to track the Riddler all the way back to his hideout.

Finally, night fell, and despite not being on patrol, he went hunting for the other hero. To his frustration, he couldn’t find her, not even after scouring the city for hours. By the time he got back to the cave, he was pissed to the point that he was sure the smallest thing would set him off. Apparently, his family could sense it, because they all gave him a wide berth.

His mood still hadn’t improved by the next day, which made it even worse. He was usually much better than this at compartmentalizing his feelings and pushing away the ones that weren’t helpful or productive in the moment. Yet here he was, waiting for Marinette at another coffee shop—this one further from campus, to hopefully avoid attention-seekers—positively brooding about his inability to contact Menagerie. He had already scared away five people who tried to sit at a nearby table through eye contact alone.

The scrape of a chair against the floor pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Marinette sliding into the seat across from him, and his anger instantly vanished, replaced by concern instead. Her face was an almost sickly pale color and there were dark circles under her eyes, but perhaps most alarming was her completely mismatched outfit. Even at her most sleep-deprived, he had never seen her clothing look anything less than put together.

“Hey,” she said. The weak smile she gave him didn’t reach her eyes.

Damian frowned. “What’s wrong with you?” When she flinched at his tone, he realized that maybe he was still a little angry. He sighed. “I apologize. I simply meant that you seem…unwell,” he finished with a grimace.

She seemed to deflate at his words. “I was, uh, at the university yesterday when the evacuation happened. I know I told you a little bit about the villain who was in Paris, but the hero there could use magic to undo any destruction that he created. So when he tore apart the city or hurt people or blew up buildings it was traumatic, but there was a certain level of comfort knowing that it wasn't permanent. But yesterday,” she paused and ran a hand through her bangs before continuing, “If that bomb had gone off, that would have been it. There would’ve been no way to reverse the damage. I just keep thinking about that, over and over.”

Damian desperately wanted to press her about the hero she mentioned who could do magical damage repair—probably the “Ladybug” he had read about, due to the beetle’s association with good luck—but even he could recognize that it was not the time for that conversation. “So, you essentially just experienced your first potential wide-scale destructive event.”

“Basically,” she agreed with a sigh.

He eyed her for another moment, then pushed back his chair and started packing up his things. When she began to protest, he cut her off. “You’re in no condition get any work done today.”

At this, he slung his bag over his shoulder and maneuvered around the table until he was standing next to Marinette. “Come,” he said, placing a hand on her back and ushering her out of the café.

Ten minutes later, they were seated at his favorite vegan ice cream shop, each with a cup of the frozen treat in their hands. Marinette hadn’t said a word in that time, and Damian cast around for something to break the silence.

“Grayson says that even though ice cream can’t fix everything, it definitely helps. Brown agrees. And Gordon. And Todd. Actually, everyone in my family does, even Father, though he’ll never admit it.”

Damian looked up from where he had been pushing his scoop of ice cream around in its cup when he heard giggling. Marinette still looked ready to keel over, but at least she was smiling now.

“You can tell them I agree,” she said on the tail end of her laughter. “There was an ice cream cart that I liked to visit back in Paris whenever I was having a difficult day. The vendor would even give out ice cream for free sometimes!”

“Why was that?” Damian prodded.

“Well, he believes that he can help people find their ‘true love’ with the ice cream combinations he gives them,” she replied a bit sheepishly.

He gave her a dry look. “Sorry to rain on your parade, but that’s a load of bullshit.”

She shrugged. “Hey, it’s a nice idea, but I never said I believe it. My combination even changed a few times, even if it always returned to the same one.” She affected an even thicker French accent than she usually had and recited, “Cherry red like his lips and green mint for his eyes.” Returning to her normal voice, she continued, “Andre—that’s the vendor’s name—likes to be poetic.”

Damian, meanwhile, shoveled a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, hoping the sudden cold would shock his brain away from the thought that the very broad description she had shared could conceivably apply to him.

Chapter Text

“All I’m saying is, this is yet another Friday night where you’re on patrol when you should be at a party.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “I was scheduled for patrol. I’m not going to skip.”

Red Hood shrugged. “If I had been in college at your age, I would’ve skipped.”

“At my age, you were training with Mother and wanted to kill Father.”

“Yeah, that’s why I said ‘if.’”

“Knock it off, you two, Freeze should be arriving soon,” Oracle cut in.

“He fucking better, we’ve been watching this place for three fucking hours,” Red Hood muttered. Still, he shifted slightly on the rooftop where the duo was perched to make sure he could see the main entrance to the warehouse they had been staking out.

Over the past few months, the team had heard chattering in Gotham’s underground about Mr. Freeze rounding up a group of underlings, but there had been no word as to what his plans were. In his last showdown with Batman, his suit had been all but destroyed, leaving only the most basic functions intact, so their working theory was that he was trying to rebuild it.

Much to Robin’s consternation, he had been paired with Red Hood for this mission. They worked surprisingly well together when his brother decided to focus on his job and stop needling him, but even still all they had been able to turn up in their investigation was that Freeze was using one of the empty warehouses out west as a base. Using her surveillance system, Oracle managed to determine a pattern to the man’s comings and goings, which gave the vigilantes a time and a place for some recon.

After the Riddler’s stunt, they all knew other villains were more likely to come out of the woodwork. Robin didn’t know if it was inspiration or competition—all he knew was the pressure was on to figure out what Freeze was up to before he caught that spark and decided to enact his plan. So here he sat, suffering through the company of his brother and praying that Freeze actually would turn up soon, if only to give them something to do.

Just as he had that thought, a nondescript SUV pulled up to the doors of the building and a hulking shadow emerged. The general shape was one they were familiar with, but something was…off.

“What the…” Red Hood breathed.

“He definitely rebuilt the suit,” Robin said.

Freeze was no longer lumbering around stiltedly in his life-saving metal contraption; instead, he was moving so fluidly that at first glance one might not even realize that he was in a suit at all.

“Oracle, we’re gonna get a closer look at this,” Red Hood radioed.

“Roger that. I’ll be listening in as always!” she replied cheekily.

“I’ll take the windows on left side,” Robin said.

“Guess I got the right,” Red Hood replied, darting off in that direction.

Robin swiftly made his way along the rooftops of warehouse after warehouse, getting further from their target with each one. Once he deemed that he had put enough distance between it and himself to risk being seen, he quickly grappled across the wide, unpaved street that the buildings sat on and began to double back.

Soon enough, he was kneeling on the roof next to Freeze’s base, trying to find the best angle to peer into the high windows. Unfortunately, they were too far up for him to see anything that was happening inside, and he was too far away to hear anything but muffled chatter coming from the villain’s crew. He would have to get closer.

“I’m moving to the fire escape on the side of the building,” he reported to his partners.

“Be careful, I won’t have eyes on you,” Oracle warned.

Eight years ago, Robin would’ve scoffed and made some derogatory remark about not needing anyone’s help. Now, he just said, “Noted,” before moving into position.

Once on the fire escape, he crouched behind some crates that definitely were not supposed to be there, but he wasn’t surprised that basic safety measures weren’t a top priority at the temporary villain hideout. Peeking around the boxes and through the window that led to the fire escape, he could finally make out what was happening inside—and he was shocked.

There were three men, presumably henchmen of Freeze’s, surrounded by a hoard of others and getting outfitted in hi-tech suits that looked remarkably similar to their boss’ upgraded one. Now that he was seeing them in the lights of the warehouse, he could tell there was a manufacturer’s logo branded on each piece of the suits, but he was still too far away to make out what it was.

Additionally, the conversation happening inside, though louder, was still too muted for him to get any meaningful intel. Luckily, he noticed that the window opened by swinging out at the bottom, so he figured he should be able to crack it for the access he needed. When he was certain that all the focus in the building was on the three men in the suits, he crept around the crates and did just that. The second he tilted the windowpane away from the frame, bits of conversation floated up to him.

“—and now we can chill with Boss without freezing our asses off,” one of the men being outfitted in a suit said to the other two, who groaned. “What, what’d I say? Oh, hey c’mon, I didn’t make the pun intentionally! They just sometimes slip out when we’ve been spending a lot of time around him.”

“I’d punch you, but I don’t want to risk damaging this thing before I even get to use it,” one of the other men replied.

“Y’know, it isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it’d be,” the third man mused.

“That’s because of the upgraded technology, courtesy of Wayne Tech,” the second one answered with a devious grin. “And remember, this was just the first shipment. Just think what we’ll be able to do once all of us have suits like these.”

Robin barely processed the cheer that went through the crowd at those words. Wayne Tech? First shipment? What the hell was going on?

He had moved back to his hiding spot shortly after opening the window, but now he was determined to get a closer look at the logo on the suits to confirm or, better yet, dismiss what the henchman had said. Resolve strengthened, he slowly rose from his crouch—

And everything went dark.

And then, everything went really, really bright.

The next thing to register was the throbbing ache in his head, radiating from the base of his skull. He likely had a concussion, but Robin had fought through much worse than that.

The next thing to register after that was the painfully tight ropes keeping him strapped upright to some kind of metal support beam. It seemed Freeze’s people has taken every precaution, because the ropes wrapped around his torso and upper arms kept him pinned so tightly against the pole that he could barely breathe. His hands had been pulled behind his back and the beam, and they were completely covered in rope to the point that he couldn’t even twitch a finger, much less reach for one of the blades he had hidden in his gloves. Even his feet, which were planted on either side of the pole, were tied up. In short, he was stuck—at least for now.

“Boss isn’t going to be happy that the bats found his place,” he heard a voice mutter. As his eyes adjusted to his sudden consciousness, he saw three people locked in a heated discussion off to the side. They clearly thought he was still unconscious, or they would’ve shut up by now. At least, they would if they had any sense. Either way, he kept listening.

“What are you suggesting, that we take care of him ourselves? We don’t know how many of his teammates also know we’re here,” the only woman of the trio countered.

“Yeah, I’m with Cam. For all we know the Bat himself might barge in here any minute.” The large man looked around nervously, as if saying the words might have spoken that reality into existence.

“Fine!” The first man threw up his hands in frustration. “But I’m making sure the boss knows that I’m the one who knocked out the bird.”

“Whatever,” the woman scoffed as he stomped off to, presumably, find Freeze.

Now that they had stopped talking, Robin could hear muffled chatter about the Freeze-like suits, which told him that he was in a different room than the one he had been observing before he was captured. That would make it easier to escape without drawing attention of the main crowd, once he figured out how to get out of the ropes.

He had just started contemplating whether the knife he had hidden in his collar would be able to reach the ropes around his chest if he held it in his teeth when he heard a door slam somewhere behind him.

“Ah, Batman’s youngest bird, how nice to see you,” a monotone voice said, growing closer with every word. “You would not say the same, I fear.”

At those words, the ringleader himself stepped around the tied-up vigilante to be directly in his line of sight. Up close, Mr. Freeze was even more massive, and his newly designed suit was even sleeker than it had seemed from the brief glimpse they had gotten outside the warehouse. What stood out the most were the Wayne Tech logos gleaming on the surface of each piece of the suit. It was almost as though they were advertising the company’s involvement.

“Freeze,” Robin replied, carefully keeping his anger and confusion about the technology out of his voice.

There was a moment of silence, then Freeze made an odd huffing sound that Robin would’ve classified as a laugh, if he hadn’t heard one too many monologues about how the man’s heart was cold and dead.

“I always forget you aren’t as mouthy as your predecessors,” the man stated.

Speaking of, where was Red Hood? Oracle must’ve noticed that he wasn’t checking in on comms and should’ve sent his brother to investigate. “I can insult you if you’d like.”

Instead of getting annoyed, Freeze smiled. “No, I think you have something else that I’d much prefer. On the black market, it might even be worth a cool million.”

One of the lackeys made the mistake of letting out a groan at the pun and Freeze briefly turned to glare in their direction. Robin didn’t necessarily want to draw attention to himself, but as his best option was to stall until Hood showed up, he opened his mouth.

“And what do I have that’s so valuable?”

Freeze smiled again, though this time it held an aura of menace. “Your mask. Or rather, what’s under it.”

Robin’s eyes widened in realization. Damnit, where the hell was Hood?

He strained against the ropes, struggling in vain as Freeze’s hand reached toward his face and peeled off his mask.

“What a pleasant surprise, I actually recognize you,” Freeze said. “It’s good to see you outside of the newspapers for a change, Mr. —”

He had moved back to his hiding spot shortly after opening the window, but now he was determined to get a closer look at the logo on the suits to confirm or, better yet, dismiss what the henchman had said. Resolve strengthened, he slowly rose from his crouch—

The dull thud of a body hitting the fire escape behind him had him whirling around. There was a man lying unconscious behind him, clearly one of Freeze’s goons, and standing over him was a hooded figure. The unfamiliar costume—black bodysuit with thin white bands circling the arms and legs, and some weapon he couldn’t discern resting on their right hip—made him wary, but when the person lifted their head and made eye contact through their simple black domino mask, he relaxed. Just slightly.

“Menagerie? What are you doing here?” he questioned in a low tone.

She threw once last glance toward the unmoving body at her feet, then stepped over it so she was closer to him. “It’s Meretseger tonight.”

His brow furrowed. “That’s a bit of a mouthful.”

Meretseger shrugged, then spread her arms. “Yeah, but Egyptian cobra goddess fits the look, don’t you think?”

Now that he looked, the white stripes on her limbs did remind him of the king cobras he encountered on some of his missions in Southeast Asia. And the hood, well…

“Is this supposed to intimidate me?” he teased, flicking the hood with a finger.

She just rolled her eyes as she batted his hand away. “Very funny. Now, I took out this guy before he could get you, but he has two friends patrolling this side of the building and we should probably get a jump on them.”

Robin scoffed. “He wouldn’t have gotten me.”

“Yes, he would’ve,” she said, with a pained look in her eyes, “and the result would’ve been catastrophic.”

The pit forming in his stomach only served to frustrate him. “How exactly do you know that?” he growled.

Meretseger lifted her left wrist, showing him the teal ouroboros bracelet that he hadn’t noticed before, despite it being the only bit of color she wore. “This lets me rewind time to a fixed point. We call it Second Chance.”

He would’ve challenged her if she hadn’t also been time traveling the last time that he saw her. Instead, he felt the pit widen into a chasm. “What did you see?” If she came back it must’ve been bad.

That pained looked transformed into a mixture of pity and guilt. “I’ll tell you later. First, we need to deal with the rest of the henchpeople.”

After they found and incapacitated the other two goons, Oracle spoke up. “Hood ran into some trouble and would appreciate your help.”

Robin snorted. “For some reason, I get the feeling that he phrased his request a little differently.”

“The spirit of the message is the same. Now get over there!” Oracle said dismissively.

They raced across the roof of the warehouse until they reached the opposite side. Peering over the edge, they saw Hood in a standoff with two men, a gun pointed at each of them while they similarly had freeze rays directed toward him. Though he was down on the ground, they could still make out his voice.

“C’mon guys, I thought the three of us were having fun! There’s no need to call for backup.”

When one of the men reached for his walkie-talkie anyway, Robin knew it was time to step in. He looked at Meretseger, who was already waiting for his cue. He pointed down, then held up three fingers, and she nodded. He lowered his fingers one-by-one, and once he was left with a fist, they jumped into action.

Robin silently dropped to the ground behind one of the henchmen and, before he could react, struck him at the back of his neck. He glanced to the side and saw Meretseger had successfully taken down her own opponent as well.

“Uh, I only requested backup from one hooded creep. Who the hell are you?”

Robin turned to his brother and saw that Hood still had one gun drawn, which was now aimed at his friend. Before he could snap at the older man, she cut in.

“You don’t remember me?” she joked. “Here I thought I made a memorable first impression.”

They couldn’t see Hood’s eyes, but Robin was sure they widened. “Menagerie?” He let out a low whistle. “Damn, you really do have a different outfit each time.”

“Yep. This time I’m Meretseger,” she said with a smile, before growing serious. “And I have something to show you.”

She led them up a nearby fire escape to a couple of slightly open windows, where they could see and hear Freeze’s goons getting outfitted with suits of their own that were made with Wayne Tech resources.

Hood let out a string of curse words when he saw this, then turned to his brother. “C’mon, we gotta report this.”

Robin shook his head. “You go ahead. I need to talk to Meretseger.”

Hood made a noise of disbelief. “Now really isn’t the time to play hooky so you can make out with your girlfriend.”

Robin could feel his face burning. “That’s not—!”

He was cut off by Meretseger, who calmly but decisively interjected. “It really is important, Red Hood. I promise I’ll let him get back to you as soon as possible.”

There was a beat of silence, then Hood shrugged. “Whatever. If B is mad, you’re explaining it to him.”

“Understood.” Robin rolled his eyes, willing his blush down. He watched his brother take off into the night, then turned to his friend.

“I think we should go somewhere a little more secure,” she replied. He couldn’t help but notice she was avoiding eye contact, which was unlike her.

“Agreed.” He led them down the rows of warehouses to another abandoned building with plenty of hiding spots on the roof. No one would find them unless they were actively searching. “Well?”

She took a deep breath. “First, I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t want me to find out this way, if you were ever going to tell me at all—not that I expected you to! But I’ve been thinking about it since it happened and for the good of our working relationship, I think a trade is fair. So—”

“Meretseger.” Robin cut off her rambling. He was, in a word, bewildered. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh,” she said sheepishly. She glanced down, then to the side, and finally took another deep breath before looking at him again. “Freeze unmasked you before I rewound time. I know your identity.”

In that moment, Robin felt a cold sensation flow through his body, as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. “You know my identity,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she nodded. “But I’m the only one who remembers the original loop, so you don’t have to worry about anyone who was in the warehouse, if that’s any comfort.”

He took a couple of deep breaths. There would be plenty of time to be angry at himself later; right now, he needed to keep his cool so that he could continue questioning her. “To what degree am I compromised? Do you just know my face, or—”

“No,” she cut him off, “I recognized you. I know your name.”

Robin closed his eyes, mentally berating himself. How could he have let his guard down so that just one goon was enough to catch him? And he knew his father still didn’t trust Meretseger, and now she has the keys to figuring out the identities of their whole team!

Before he could spiral further, she continued. “That’s why, among other reasons, I want to meet your team, officially, and tell them about my past. Including my identity.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “What? No,” he shook his head. “You don’t owe me this just because I was careless and got exposed. I can’t allow it.”

Meretseger rolled her eyes. “First of all, you don’t ‘allow’ me to do anything. And second, did you not hear what I just said? I have other reasons for doing this!” She crossed her arms and gave him a look, daring him to respond.

He growled. “Fine, but for the record, I think it’s a bad idea.”

“Your objection is noted,” she deadpanned. “Now, when would be a good time for me to meet everyone?”

Robin mulled over his options for a moment. “Meet me on top of Wayne Tower tomorrow night, eight p.m. I’ll either take you to my team then or tell you the date we have decided upon. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she replied.

Yet again, Damian found himself sitting in a café working on his project with Marinette. Yet again, he was having trouble focusing, though this time it was due to his own thoughts rather than intrusive peers. He could tell that Marinette could tell that something was up, based on the apprehensive glances she threw him every now and then, but she never said anything. In fact, both of them had been unusually quiet as they worked on their designated parts of the project.

Damian’s progress was derailed for the hundredth time since they started working by thoughts of the impending meetup between his family and his friend. His father had been less than thrilled that Robin’s identity was leaked, but he had been somewhat mollified by her offer for a meeting. Any worry his siblings held for him, however, was completely overshadowed by their burning curiosity.

It was going to be a disaster. Even if it objectively went well, it was going to be horrible for him. He could feel it in his bones.

He snapped out of his spiraling when something glinting in the light caught his eye. Looking up, he saw the sleeve of Marinette’s oversized sweater fall back as she lifted her coffee cup, revealing a familiar-looking bracelet.

Damian slammed the lid of his laptop shut, causing Marinette to jump, but he barely registered her reaction as he leaned over the table and narrowed his eyes at her. “You,” he hissed.

“Wh-what?” she stammered, eyes wide with shock.

“You might as well give it up now, you’re going to tell the rest of my team tonight,” he scoffed.

“How..?” she trailed off, mouth gaping.

“Please, don’t act surprised.” He gestured to her wrist, where her sleeve had fallen back into place. “I saw your bracelet, and though it’s a different color, it’s quite a distinctive design.”

“You figured it out from the jewelry? No one ever notices the jewelry.” She muttered this more to herself than to him, but he still responded.

“Of course I noticed the jewelry!” He barely stopped himself from tossing his hands up in frustration. “I’ve been trying not to notice the jewelry for the sake of our—our…” he faltered.

She tilted her head, inquisitive. “Our what?”

“Our working relationship,” he said firmly. Maybe in his head he could admit they were friends, but no one was going to hear him speak those words.

“Okay, sure,” she agreed with a small smile. After a second, the smile fell. “Did you say your team wants to meet tonight?”

“Yes.” Then, thinking about what he had just learned, he dropped his head into his hands. “It’s definitely going to be a disaster.”

Chapter Text

It was eight o’clock on the dot when Menagerie arrived at Wayne Tower in a red and black costume. Robin, of course, had been early, just in case she showed up early, so he witnessed her swing onto roof.

“Is that a yo-yo?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to where he was melting out of the shadows. “Eek! Don’t do that!” She placed a hand over her heart and let out a deep breath. “And to answer your question, yes, it is. It’s more useful than you might think.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow mockingly. “Really?”

In the blink of an eye, he found himself snugly wrapped in many feet of yo-yo string and yanked forward until he was only inches from Menagerie.

“Really,” she smirked backed. This close, however, he could see a hint of nerves in her expression.

“You don’t have to meet them tonight,” he said, tone serious. “I’ll come up with an excuse, and you can wait until you’re ready.”

Her gaze dropped to their feet for a moment, before she looked back up with resolve in her eyes. “No, I’m ready,” she said with conviction. “And besides, you’ll have my back, right?”

Robin watched as a small, almost shy smile stretched across her face. “I suppose I will.” He then glanced down. “But if we’re ever going to make it there, you’re going to have to let me go.”

“Sorry!” She blushed nearly as red as her suit as she retracted the string of her yo-yo. “So…how do we get to the Batcave?”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes.” Robin rolled his eyes, despite knowing Menagerie couldn’t see it behind the blindfold secured around her head. “You haven’t been vetted by the rest of the team, so you don’t get to see the path to the cave.” He turned the Batmobile down another dark alley, sticking to back roads and shadowed streets as they made their way out of the city.

She sighed. “I know, and I get it, it just feels like a lot when I’m about to tell you my whole life story.”

He shot her a glance and couldn’t help being amused by her slight pout. “Are you now?”

“Well, maybe not my whole life story, but everything relevant to superheroing. My…partner may not be thrilled about it, but we ultimately agreed that it’s for the best, and if anyone can keep a secret, it’s Batman,” she explained.

“You’re right about that,” Robin mused as he drove through the secret entrance to the Batcave. He maneuvered the Batmobile until it was in it spot, then shifted to park. “Stay there,” he said, getting out of the vehicle.

He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, where Menagerie was waiting impatiently with her arms crossed. Leaning down, he reached behind her head for the knot in the blindfold and swiftly undid it. He froze when she blinked open her eyes, just as bright blue as ever and closer than he had realized.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice slightly higher pitched than usual. He could feel the puff of breath on his face when she spoke.

“You’re welcome.” He straightened abruptly and moved to the side, giving her room to step out of the car and take in her surroundings.

“I expected it to be big but damn,” she said, head on a swivel. “Is that a giant penny? And a T. rex? And why is there a Robin suit—no, two Robin suits, and a Batgirl suit—hanging up?”

He ignored her questions in favor of grasping her elbow and gently tugging her in the direction of the debriefing table. “Come on, everyone is waiting for us.”

She briefly stumbled as she continued to look over her shoulder at his, Hood’s, and Oracle's old suits, but quickly matched his pace. “Wait, if your whole team is here, then who is watching the city?”

“We called in a few favors from some friends,” he explained. Luckily, things were relatively calm for the Teen Titans at the moment.

“Oh. That must be nice.” Before he could respond, they heard a new voice call out to them.

“Oy, brat, hurry it up! We don’t have all night!”

Robin glared at Red Hood once he and Menagerie rounded the corner that led to the table where the rest of the team was sitting. “Actually, we do. That’s the whole point of this.”

He led her over to the extra chair that had been added. When he noticed most of his team watching with amusement, he realized he was still holding Menagerie’s arm, and he released it as if he had been burned. She gave him a glance but didn’t comment on it as they sat down.

“Thank you for joining us,” Batman said in a gruff voice. “You know why you’re here.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Menagerie blinked. “Yes. I agreed to explain my past. Should I just start telling my story, or do you have questions for me?”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, and we’ll ask questions as they come up,” Oracle said with a reassuring smile. Between the domino mask and the baseball cap hiding her distinctive hair, it was about all they could see of her face.

“Okay.” Menagerie took a deep breath. “Robin told me that you have been calling me ‘Menagerie’ since I’ve had a different suit on each time I’ve seen him. Well, when I was an active hero, I went by the name ‘Ladybug’ and I only wore this suit, though it’s gone through some different iterations over the years.” She gestured to herself. Robin took in her black bodysuit, with red gloves, boots, and domino mask that were covered in black spots. There were also two red half-circles with black spots on her back, like smaller versions of ladybug wings.

“I became a hero when I was 13. Or, well, I was chosen to be a hero.”

“Who chose you?” Red Robin interrupted.

“A man named Master Fu.” Menagerie, or, Ladybug, got a sad look in her eye. “He’s no longer around, but I’ll get to that later. Anyway, I was chosen to be a hero because a villain named Hawkmoth had emerged in Paris, where I’m from. He was someone who was abusing a miraculous, so the city needed people with miraculi to fight him. My partner at the time, Chat Noir, and I were picked.”

“Miraculous?” Batgirl prompted.

“Miraculi are jewelry or accessories that have gods, or kwamis, bound to them. Each kwami represents a different concept, and therefore each miraculous gives its user different powers, different weapons, and a different magical suit.” Ladybug turned to Robin. “I’ve had a new miraculous on each time you met me, which is why my suit has changed.”

His brow furrowed. “When you mentioned the ‘partner’ that created your suits, were you actually talking about these kwamis?”

Ladybug smiled. “Yes, I was. You’ll get to meet one of them in a little while.”

A few looks were exchanged, but then everybody focused back on her. “So this Master Fu trained you and your partner?”

She shook her head. “Not at first. He had secretly given us our miraculi—we didn’t even know each other’s identity—so we were actually kind of fumbling around for a while. I finally met him and started getting training about their history and secrets, and that’s when I learned that there were more than just the ladybug, cat, and butterfly ones. The cat being my partner’s, and the butterfly being the one Hawkmoth had.”

“Okay!” Nightwing exclaimed, holding up his hands. “There’s already a lot to unpack there, but first: you were fighting at thirteen—which we can’t really be mad about, we were all about that age or younger when we started, but you didn’t have any training? And your partner, was he your age too?”

Ladybug sighed. “Yeah, he was.”

“Great, so no adult supervision either,” Nightwing muttered.

“It could’ve been worse; one of my powers as Ladybug is the Miraculous Cure, which repairs damage caused by a miraculous. So anything Hawkmoth did through his akumas, the villains he created with his miraculous, was undone after the battle.” Even as she said this, Ladybug looked unconvinced.

“Still, those experiences must have taken a toll on you.” Robin could see his team staring at him as if he had grown two heads—since when did he care about other people’s feelings?—but he ignored them in favor of asking his next question. “How were these akumas created?”

“Hawkmoth could sense when someone was experiencing a difficult emotion. Anger, sadness, jealously, embarrassment, it was all fair game, no matter how mild or severe. He would then use his power to magically charge a butterfly that would meld into an object connected to that person, like if they were wearing a bracelet or holding a pen. He could then communicate telepathically with the person and convince them to steal the ladybug and cat miraculi for him, in exchange for the power to fix whatever problem caused the emotion he latched onto in the first place.” She wrinkled her nose. “They would be transformed into garishly dressed akumas. Like, they could give your people a run for their money.”

Spoiler tilted her head just the slightest bit. “How would you sever his connection to them?”

“By breaking the object and purifying the butterfly when it was released,” Ladybug answered. “The victims would have no memory of what they did as akumas, but everyone else in the city remembered, even after I used the cure.”

Red Robin frowned.  “If there were more than the ladybug and cat, why did he want those two specifically?”

A matching frown appeared on Ladybug’s face. “They’re the two oldest and most powerful, bonded to the kwamis of creation and destruction, respectively. When used together, they can grant a wish that’s powerful enough to alter reality.”

“When you say ‘alter reality’…” Red Hood trailed off, leaving his question hanging in the air.

“I mean anything, including bringing people back from the dead. In fact, it turns out that’s basically what Hawkmoth wanted to do. But the wish always comes with a price that’s usually much more costly than whatever benefit you get.”

Everyone snuck a look at Batman, reminded of the Flashpoint event he refused to talk about.

Oracle broke the silence before it stretched on too long. “Not that we don’t believe you,” she studiously ignored Robin burning holes in the side of her face, “but you’ve made a lot of big claims with no proof. Is there anything you can give us?”

Ladybug seemed to think for a moment. “Like I said, you’ll get to meet my kwami later, but as for now…”

She abruptly grabbed the thumb of her left hand and twisted, hard enough so a snap resounded through the room. If it weren’t for that sound and the now unnatural position of her finger, Robin wouldn’t have even realized she had broken it because she didn’t so much as flinch.

“What the—” he started, reaching for her, before she cut him off with a murmur.

“Lucky Charm.” She snatched her yo-yo from her waist with her good hand and lightly tossed it in the air as she said the words. When a miniature version of her yo-yo fell into her palm, she tossed it right back up, calling, “Miraculous Ladybug!” Immediately a swarm of ladybugs burst out of the item and hovered over her hand for a moment, then flew off again.

“Good as new!” She held up her hand, wiggling and flexing her fingers to show that her thumb was back in working order.

Everyone else sat perfectly still for a moment, just staring at her, then turned to look at Batman again, more obviously this time.

“Let’s continue,” he commanded. “You said you eventually received some training from this Master Fu?”

“Yes.” The sad look was back, and Robin found that he was not a fan of it. “He was the guardian of the miracle box, which houses the miraculi not in use. He taught me more about the different kwamis and what powers we could access while transformed, as well as teaching me about the role of the guardian.”

“What happened?” Batgirl prompted.

Ladybug dropped her head into her hand for a moment, rubbing her forehead, then looked back up. “It was one of the rare times Hawkmoth came to fight us in person. He had captured Master Fu, and in order to prevent him from getting the miracle box, Master Fu transferred guardianship of it to me. The catch is, when a guardian relinquishes their role, they forget everything about the miraculi and anything to do with them.”

Spoiler sucked in a breath. “So not only did he forget all that knowledge, but he also didn’t remember you.”

“Yeah,” Ladybug said with a watery smile, “that was definitely the worst part. The kwamis were able to continue my education, but it’s different coming from another person, you know?”

Robin, feeling the urge to move away from a clearly distressing subject, stepped in. “I assume you were able to defeat Hawkmoth, since you moved away from Paris.”

He could see a hint of relief on Ladybug’s face when she turned to answer him, though he wasn’t sure whether it was because they were changing topics or she was reliving her victory. “We were. When I was 17, my team—which now consisted of Chat Noir, Honeybee, Viperion, Ryuuko, and me, after Chat and I decided to add more permanent holders—caught Hawkmoth and his companion Mayura, who had been using the peacock miraculous to create sentient objects called amoks. Once that battle was over and their miraculi reclaimed, we decided to retire, and I took back everyone’s miraculous.”

“Clearly you didn’t stay retired,” Nightwing said with a grin.

Ladybug smiled back as she shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m the guardian, I can’t really retire.”

“Why come to Gotham?” Batman questioned.

“Well, there are a couple reasons for that, but they would probably be easier to explain if I detransformed.” Ladybug hesitated, then added, “Uh, you might want to close your eyes.”

Robin saw everyone glance at each other before doing as she said. After hearing her call, “Spots off!” and seeing a flash of pink light behind his eyelids, he opened his eyes to see Marinette sitting where Ladybug had been, with an odd red creature hovering by her leg underneath the table. When it noticed him looking, it gave him a big smile and waved.

“You’re the girl from Scarecrow’s attack!” Red Robin’s exclamation drew his attention back to the group. Spoiler was looking at him with barely restrained glee, and he was sure Batgirl was doing the same behind her mask.

Marinette seemed surprised. “Uh, yes, my name’s Marinette. How did you—”

“We saw Robin talking to you after the fight,” Spoiler explained with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, right.” Marinette got a distant look in her eye for a moment, as if she were reorienting that memory based on what she now knew about Robin, then focused on the group once again.

“Robin, um, D-Damian” she added in a whisper, “said he explained what happened. I’m so sorry I found out like that, I promise I was never going to try to figure out any of your identities. I really do just want to help, but now I’ve made things worse, and—"

Her hands, which she had begun wringing in her lap, stilled when Robin placed a hand on her arm. “What’s done is done.” In what was perhaps an impulsive move, he reached up and peeled off his mask with the other hand, dropping it on the table. He couldn’t regret it, however, when her shoulders relaxed slightly and she stared up at him with a hint of wonder.

“If y’all are done making heart-eyes at each other, Marinette still needs to explain why she picked Gotham,” Red Hood drawled.

“Fuck off, Hood,” Robin growled, tossing one of his hidden knives at his brother to hopefully distract from the heat his was fighting down from his cheeks. Judging by the chuckle he heard as the older man plucked the knife from the air, his tactic was unsuccessful.

“Right!” his classmate squeaked. She then cleared her throat and continued. “After Hawkmoth and some…other things that happened, I knew I wanted to leave Paris. One of the main factors for coming here was Gotham University. That’s how I know Damian.” He watched her speak from the corner of his eye as she resolutely stared forward.

“Alright, but there are plenty of top universities in the world, including for fashion and business.” When Marinette looked at Oracle in shock, the older woman smiled. “It’s not every day that Damian makes a friend. You’ve been on our radar for a minute.”

Marinette leaned toward Damian with a concerned expression. “Are you okay with that?” she whispered.

He was not about to admit that he had told them about her. Instead, he shrugged. “We’re detectives, it’s in our blood.”

“So why Gotham in particular?” Nightwing steered them back on track.

Marinette glanced down. “I think Tikki can explain that better than me.”

Before anyone could ask what a Tikki was, the red creature that Damian had spotted zipped up in the air. “Hi everyone!” it said with another bright smile and wave. “I’m Tikki, the kwami of creation. I do hope you won’t make us regret sharing all this information with you!”

“That’s a kwami?” Red Robin exclaimed.

“And is it threatening us?” Red Hood tacked on.

 To prevent the situation from descending into total chaos, Damian spoke up. “Hello Tikki. Thank you for joining us,” he said with a respectful nod.

“Damian!” It flew in front of his face, close enough that he felt himself going a bit cross-eyed. “I’ve heard so much about you—you and Robin, actually. I’m surprised it took Marinette this long to figure out you were the same person.”

“How did you know?” Batman asked, a bit sharply.

It turned to Batman. “The best way to describe it is that people have unique auras or energy signatures. It’s how we know who would match well with our miraculous. When the other kwami noticed Damian and Robin’s auras were the exact same, it was obvious.”

Despite not saying anything further, Damian could tell his mentor was not pleased by this information.

“Anyway, you were asking about Gotham,” Tikki continued. “Just like people, places have auras. Gotham’s is particularly dark, likely due to a magical event that happened in this area sometime in the past. Your work is mitigating the problem, but not solving it; by coming here, we could see what exactly needed to be done to address the issue.”

“You planned on using magic on my city?” Batman growled.

“Magic is already affecting your city. At least this time it will help,” Tikki replied, unperturbed.

Damian tensed, preparing to intervene if needed. After a few moments of fraught silence, Batman spoke again, this time to Marinette. “You will not do anything before discussing it with us first.”

“I can agree to that,” she said evenly.

“And you need proper training,” he added.

She blinked. “Wait, does that mean I’m…joining the team?”

“Eh, it’s more like we’re keeping an eye on you.” Nightwing smirked, crossing his arms. “But who knows, something might happen that’ll make you want to stick around, right Little D?”

“I have no idea what you are insinuating,” Damian said with a scowl. Batgirl was usually the only one who was able to tell when he was lying, but he didn’t think she would out him this time.

“He’s saying that maybe one day you’ll grow a pair—”

“If we’re done here,” Damian cut Red Hood off, voice elevated, “I’m sure Marinette needs to be home soon.”

“I actually do,” Marinette agreed. “Do you have any other questions for me? Or I could answer them when I come for training, which is…?”

“I think we can save any other questions for a later date. Robin will inform you of the details.” At this, Batman stood, which was the cue that the meeting was over.

“It was nice to meet you!” Spoiler said with a sharp grin.

“Uh, you too.” Marinette’s brow was furrowed, giving off the impression that she knew she was missing something, but didn’t know what.

The rest of the team chorused their goodbyes as Damian replaced his mask and tugged Marinette back in the direction of the Batmobile.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” she said cheerfully.

“It seemed like a disaster to me,” he grumbled.

“They didn’t kill me for finding out your identity or kick me out of the city for using magic. I even get to join you in training!” she countered, before faltering. “Unless, you’d rather I didn’t?”

Robin rolled his eyes. “You’d make an acceptable sparring partner,” he assured her.

“In that case, I better learn the layout of this place. You won’t always be around to guide me,” she said brightly.

Her words made him realize that he once again had her elbow in a gentle grasp as he led her through the cave. Luckily, they had just reached the Batmobile, so he could make it seem natural when he let go of her and opened the car door instead. After shutting it behind her, he saw a flash of pink light, and by the time he got in the driver’s seat, she was Ladybug once again.

Robin turned on the car, but before he could start moving, he felt a hand on his arm. “Hey Robin?”

“What?” he asked, maybe a bit too gruffly.

Ladybug peered up at him with her giant blue eyes. Did the mask make them seem bigger? He didn’t know. “I just wanted to say thanks for supporting me back there. Your team seems really close, and you still don’t know me that well, so it means a lot to know that you were on my side.”

Robin was grateful that he put his mask back on, as it felt like he was fighting back his millionth blush of the night. “Tch. I didn’t do much.”

“Still, you would’ve if you needed to, I could tell, and that’s what matters,” she retorted.

“I supposed. Now let’s get you home.”

When Robin got back to the cave, he was surprised to see his team still there.

“What’s going on?” He narrowed his eyes at them, a sense of dread washing over him.

“I want you to invite her to dinner with the family,” Batman said.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not you too.”

“It’s a test, baby bird, to see if she can connect the dots about our identities. Don’t get your Kevlar in a twist,” Red Robin snarked.

“Fine,” Robin said, exasperated. He then gave a pointed look to each of his teammates. “But I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

The sly grins he got in return were less than reassuring.

Chapter Text

Robin wasn’t all that surprised when Menagerie appeared during patrol the next night. She had returned to a simpler look with this uniform—it was primarily a white bodysuit with black stripes and a matching mask. Where gloves and boots would be, the colors reversed so it was black with white stripes, and on the ends of her fingers and toes were small claws. Similar to when she was Apoidea, her black hair was streaked with white stripes. Similar to when she was Multimouse, she had bolas wrapped around her waist like a tail. What stood out the most was the rose gold panjas bracelet she wore on her left hand. In the center was a purple stone inlaid with a green tiger’s paw print. Coming from one edge of the circular stone was a chain leading to a bracelet. From the opposite edge, four chains led to a ring around each of her fingers.

“Hey,” she greeted. She glanced down at her suit, then pointed to herself. “Call me Baihu tonight.”

He nodded in understanding—so she was drawing inspiration from Chinese mythology this time, perhaps a nod to her heritage? “Hello.” As he said this, he reached up and turned off his comm; his team would be badgering him throughout the entire conversation otherwise.

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, she continued. “So, I have some questions about last night, if you don’t mind.”

He briefly considered the city’s lack of activity. “I suppose I have time.” They quickly found a rooftop perch that would allow them a good view of the area but keep them hidden.

 “Well?” Robin prompted once they were settled.

Baihu looked him square in the eye. “Some of this may be personal, so if there’s anything you can’t or don’t want to answer, just say so and I’ll back off, okay?”

He scoffed. “You already know my identity. I don’t see how it can get more personal.”

She huffed. “Fine. First, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and one of the women are the former Robins, yes?”

“They are, and it was Spoiler,” he confirmed. Then he narrowed his eyes a bit. “You’ve done your research.”

“I like to be informed,” she shrugged, before a more serious air fell over her. “So, when Nightwing said you were all young when you started…”

“We were.”

“How young were you?”

Ah, this is why she had given him the out on the conversation. Robin, of course, was too stubborn to use it. “I was ten.”

“Ten?!” Baihu’s eyes looked like they would bug out of her head. “How did a ten-year-old fight grown adults?”

“I was ten when I became Robin. I’ve been fighting adults since I could walk,” he clarified. One glance, however, told him that it had been the wrong thing to say.

“What?” she breathed, horrified.

He sighed and bent one leg, planting his foot on the ground and resting his arm on top of his knee. He was so used to everyone who mattered already knowing about his past that he rarely talked about it anymore beyond passing references.

“I was raised in an organization called the League of Assassins until I was brought to Gotham when I was ten. As you can infer from the name, my time there was rather violent, and I was constantly training. By the time I made it here, I had to unlearn some bad habits, to put it lightly,” he grimaced.

“The League of Assassins,” Baihu repeated, seeming as though she was trying to recall a distant memory. “It sounds familiar. Maybe the kwami have mentioned it?”

“It’s been around for centuries, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they were aware of it,” he agreed.

She suddenly snapped back into focus. “But being raised like that…you were robbed of your childhood!”

He shot her a skeptical look. “Really? That’s what you’re concerned about? Not the fact that I was an assassin?”

She waved her hand as if she could bat his question away. “You were a child, it wasn’t your choice. And you said you unlearned those habits, right? Now you’re helping people as Robin. I can’t judge you for your past self when your current self is so clearly different.”

He stared at her for a moment. When he found his voice, it came out a bit rougher than usual. “Yes, well, I’ve come to terms with my unusual upbringing. There’s no need for you to be troubled about it.” After being blackmailed by his siblings into a few therapy sessions with Black Canary, and willingly going to more after that, he had started to unpack a lot of the anger and resentment he felt toward his mother and grandfather.

“I’m still going to be ‘troubled about it,’” she replied, using air quotes, “but I won’t mention it again. I have one more question, though.”

There was only one thing he wanted to talk about less than his childhood. “What?”

Baihu cocked her head. “Why was one of your old Robin uniforms in a glass case in the Batcave?”

And there it was.

“At least, I’m assuming it was yours, because it had the hood and the mask with the pointy edges, but it was much smaller,” she tacked on.

“Yes, it’s mine.” Robin sighed again. “You may have noticed that Batman likes to keep memorabilia?”

“Yeah, the giant dinosaur is hard to miss,” she deadpanned.

He felt one corner of his mouth tick upwards involuntarily. “He also keeps memorials for his partners who are…forcibly retired, one could say. The second Robin’s uniform when he was killed, the first Batgirl’s when she was paralyzed.”

“I saw those too,” she said in a hushed voice. “And yours?”

He braced himself. “I was also killed.”

She inhaled sharply, then murmured his name on the exhale. “Damian.”

“No names in the field,” he responded automatically.

“Sorry, I just—” She cut herself off and reached for his hand, slowly enough that he could’ve pulled away if he wanted to. He let her grab it. “You were killed? But, but you’re alive now. How are you alive now?” Her grip tightened as she stared at him in bewilderment.

“It’s a really long and complicated story involving both the League of Assassins and other worlds. Long story short, there are more ways than your miraculous to bring people back from the dead.”

Robin was alarmed to see that instead of being reassured, Baihu was starting to tear up. Unthinkingly, he reached out with his free hand and brushed the first one away before it could roll down her mask. “Why are you crying? It all happened years ago, and I’m unharmed now.”

She also brought her hand up to help him wipe away the rest of the tears. “I know, but it’s still such an awful thing for you to experience.” She sniffed. “And maybe this is selfish, but I started thinking about if you didn’t come back, then we never would’ve met and become friends, and I hated it. I hate imagining that.”

When she made eye contact with him, it was as if a shock went through his body. “I care about our friendship. About you.”

It’s not often that Robin wished he had the social skills of other people, but this was one of those moments. He wished he could repeat Baihu’s words back to her, but it felt like they were stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for squeezing her hand tighter and declaring, “Me too.”

She seemed to understand, though, because a brilliant smile—and a hint of a blush—broke out across her face. He continued to gaze at her, transfixed, but once he saw her smile begin to fade and her blush deepen, he realized he had been staring too long.

“Uh,” since when did he use goddamn filler words, “my family wants you to come to dinner tomorrow. If you’re available.” He shut his mouth before he could further embarrass himself by doing something like rambling.

“Oh!” Baihu exclaimed. “I am. You mean—” her voice dropped to a murmur, “—at the manor, right? But why?”

“After my sisters got to meet you, the others became jealous. They’ve been pestering me and my father ever since,” Robin rolled his eyes, internally hoping his partial-truth was convincing enough.

She let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to put you out of your misery then. Will you text me the details?”

His response was cut off by a voice emerging from the shadows. “So this is why you haven’t been answering your comms.”

Both teens whipped their heads around to see Nightwing standing behind them, arms crossed over his chest and looking smug. Before Robin could even work up a proper growl, the older man continued.

“Not that I can judge, god knows I slacked off patrol to do much worse than hold hands when I was your age,” Nightwing said with a pointed look.

Between his teammate’s comment and Baihu’s sudden crushing grip, Robin realized that they had never let go of each other. He absolutely could not consider the implications of him being so comfortable around her that he could forget that she was touching him; he would save those thoughts for when he was lying awake at three in the morning.

“You are well aware that I have no desire to hear about your dalliances,” he grumbled, slowly and intentionally releasing Baihu’s hand. He knew he had to be careful about it—snatch his hand back too fast, and he looked guilty; keep holding on, and he was basically admitting Nightwing was right. Which he wasn’t, obviously.

Did he imagine the look of disappointment that briefly flashed across Baihu’s face? He must have. Either way, he was pulled from his contemplation when Nightwing spoke again.

“Yeah, yeah. I just stopped by to tell you that Batman wants you to go ahead and wrap up your patrol.” Robin could practically hear his teammate’s eyeroll.

“If that was all, Oracle could’ve overridden my comms’ setting,” Robin narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Well, I might’ve volunteered to relay the message so I could come check in on you two lovebirds.” Nightwing ruffled Robin’s hair, dislodging it from its perpetually slicked-back state, then darted away before he could get punched. “Catch you later!” With that, he flipped off the edge of the building.

“Damn showoff,” Robin muttered, trying to smooth down his hair.

“I think he’s fun,” Baihu countered, staring at the spot where the older man had disappeared. Then she turned to Robin. “Here, let me.”

He froze as she brushed the last few strands back into place. She didn’t seem to notice him staring at her, as her eyes were locked on the repetitive motion of her hand. Eventually, he figured his hair must be fixed, and he cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Ahem.” At the noise, Baihu jolted a bit, then withdrew her hand.

“So,” she said, sounding a bit flustered, “dinner?”

For the second time, Damian felt a sense of impending doom as he drove up to the manor with Marinette in his passenger seat. He put the car in park but made no move to get out. Instead, he could feel his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter and tighter, his knuckles turning white as he stared unseeingly out the windshield.

“Damian?”

He turned to see Marinette with a look of concern on her face. Before she could say anything else, he cut her off, using the same tone of voice that he did out in the field to convey the seriousness of the matter at hand.

“I told them all to be on their best behavior, but that is a low, and I mean low, bar. If at any moment you’ve decided that you have had enough, let me know and I will be more than willing to get you out of there.” He knew that she couldn’t understand the full gravity of their situation—his family didn’t have the constraints of responsibility and professionalism that came with the masks holding them back at this meeting—but he stared her down, hoping she would somehow pick up on it anyway.

She stared back for a few moments, her eyes bouncing between his, before slowly reaching over and gently prying his hands from the steering wheel. “It’ll be okay,” she replied calmly.

Marinette set his hands down in his lap, then held up her left hand, which had caught his eye when he first picked her up because it was adorned with a panjas bracelet different in design than the one she wore as Baihu. This one was made of bronze, with three chains connected to a single ring on her middle finger. On the central chain was a line of three bold aquamarine stones, which matched the oversized knit sweater she wore with a black faux-leather skirt, tights, and simple black knee-high boots.

“You could say I’m cheating a little bit.” A bit of a grin appeared on her face. “The tiger miraculous gives its wearer a boost of courage. So between you and Roaar, I’m not going to be as nervous as I usually would be.”

“Roaar?” Damian questioned, brows furrowing.

A magenta blur came flying from Marinette’s purse, coming to a halt in between the two young adults. “That would be me!” it chirped.

The kwami, he assumed, peered inquisitively at Damian, long enough that he started to wonder if he was supposed to say something, but then she turned to Marinette. “I like him! He would make a decent tiger.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but he could tell it was fond. “You know that’s not why we’re here.” She cupped her hands, and Roaar dutifully floated over to land in them. Marinette raised her to eye level and continued.

“If I promise to let you talk to him later, will you behave?”

“You got yourself a deal!” The kwami turned back to Damian and waved one of her tiny arms. “Bye Damian, see you soon!” And with that, it flew back to Marinette’s purse, phasing right through the material.

Marinette glanced at Damian sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Heh, sorry about that. Sometimes the kwamis act more like children than immortal deities.”

Damian just blinked, shoved the whole exchange into a corner of his mind to be processed later, and opened his door. “We should get in there before they send someone looking for us.”

“Oh, right!”

Despite her reassurances, he still felt the doom hanging over him like a cloud.

Luckily, he had timed everything so that they arrived just as everyone was sitting down for dinner—no one was able to corner them, and the distraction of food would always be present. Unluckily, everyone had been able to make it. He knew it was wishful thinking that at least one of his siblings would have bailed, but a man can dream, can’t he?

Luckily, he was able to secure a seat next to Marinette so that she wasn’t thrown to the sharks all by herself. Unluckily, they were able to maneuver things so that she was sitting towards the center of the table, and he was sitting in between her and Alfred. Nothing against Alfred, it was simply that everyone knew that the man was the only one who could keep Damian in check if things took a turn for the…violent.

In fact, the entire seating arrangement seemed highly intentional. He scanned it with narrowed eyes, growing increasingly suspicious. Cass was directly across from him, with Dick across from Marinette. Barbara was to the left of Dick and Stephanie to the right of Marinette, which left Tim and Jason seated on either side of his father. It was Jason willingly sitting next to Bruce that cemented his theory that his siblings placed themselves in order of least to most likely to get knifed by him if they pushed things too far.

Nothing too disastrous had happened yet, just the typical chaos as Cass and Jason helped Alfred bring out the dishes and everyone served themselves family-style, but now that everyone was settled with their plates, Damian could tell it was time for the main event.

“So, Marinette,” Barbara began, picking at her side salad in an attempt to seem casual. Damian knew better. “You and Damian met in one of your business classes?”

“Yes, Intro to Business,” Marinette replied.

“What got you interested in the field?” Tim followed up.

“Well, I’m double majoring in fashion design and business. One day I want to own my own label, but I know I’ll need the practical skills as well as the creative.” When she glanced over at Damian, he just raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, and she let out a small sigh before turning back to his brother. “Technically, I already do have a business, but,” she shot a pointed look back at Damian, “it’s one of those started-as-a-teenager, run-out-of-the-home ones that is much smaller than my eventual goal.”

“Still more than most people in our class,” he rebutted, taking a sip of water.

“Yeah, that’s an accomplishment, you don’t need to downplay it!” Damian grumbled internally about how Marinette seemed briefly mesmerized by Dick’s blinding smile before his older brother continued. “Besides, if you ever need pointers, you have the Wayne Enterprises co-CEOs at the other end of the table.” He jutted his thumb towards the men, then turned his head in the same direction. “Right, Bruce?”

Damian would probably always be impressed with how quickly his father could shift between an intense stare and a congenial—if fake—smile. In the split second it took for Marinette to look at him too, he transformed into an almost-normal human being.

“Of course,” he answered, smile never wavering.

“W-wow, thank you so much Mr. Wayne,” Marinette stammered, eyes wide.

He merely waved the gratitude away. “Please, call me Bruce.” More than one snort of repressed laughter was heard at the table, but he continued as if oblivious. “How did you develop an interest in fashion?”

This question led to a conversation about her childhood and discovering her passion while growing up at the bakery, which led to a discussion of Paris as a whole, which of course spiraled into an explanation of the whole Hawkmoth event. The family put on a show of pretending that they didn’t know anything, but by this point Damian could tell that Marinette felt something was off. Every now and then she snuck him a questioning look, so he tried his best to keep his face neutral.

The rest of them must have sensed this too, because the main course was winding down when Stephanie decided to shift the direction of the conversation.

“Okay, wait,” she held her hand up, indicating that everyone needed to stop talking. She turned her whole body towards Marinette, leaning in much too close, in Damian’s opinion. “You told us how you met Dami, but not how you became friends with him.”

“Very different,” Cass chimed in. Damian glared at her for the betrayal. She just smirked.

“Oh, well that’s simple,” Marinette said matter-of-factly. “Our professor assigned us to work on a project together.”

“It is not that simple!” Jason emphasized his statement by thumping a fist on the table but shrunk back slightly after receiving a look from Alfred. Still, he continued. “Most people in close range of Demon Spawn end up running away crying, not getting heart-eyes from him.”

Most of Damian’s brainpower was working to keep down the flush threatening to rise up his cheeks, but he had just enough to spare for a hissed “Todd.”

Marinette’s own cheeks were turning a little red, but she had her head cocked as if something about Jason’s statement had sparked her curiosity. She must’ve decided to keep it to herself, because a beat later she shook her head and shrugged. “You know, when we first got partnered some people in the class gave me a similar warning—that I’d be crying if I wasn’t careful—but I don’t get it. Damian’s always been nice to me.” She thought for a second, then tacked on, “In his own way.”

Damian really couldn’t stop the blush this time, so he crossed his arms and turned his face away, only to meet Alfred’s amused expression.

He scowled. They were traitors, everyone last one of them, intent on reveling in his humiliation.

Dick decided to open his big mouth and prove his point. “Aww, Little D, we knew you had it in you!”

Suddenly, Marinette jolted in her seat. It was slight, but noticeable enough for Damian to quit his brooding in favor of asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, bathroom,” she said faintly. Then she snapped her hand out to grab his arm in a nearly painful grip and repeated a little louder, “Can you show me where the bathroom is?”

He gave her a confused look but acquiesced. “Sure.” He used his other hand to loosen her hold on him and help her stand, then, as if his family hadn’t been avidly watching, announced, “I’m showing Marinette to the bathroom. Carry on.”

As Damian turned and led Marinette out of the room, he heard Stephanie call, “Don’t take too long!”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want us to wonder what you’re getting up—ow, damn it, Barbara!”

“Master Timothy.”

“I mean, dang it, Barbara.”

Damian rolled his eyes as he continued to pull Marinette down the hall. However, when they reached the bathroom, she pulled him in with her and shut the door.

“What the hell, Marinette?! If someone comes looking for us, do you know what they’ll think?” He whirled on her, then took a step back once he observed her appearance. Her eyes were wide, her face a little paler than usual, and she kept running the fingers of her right hand over the stones on her bracelet.

“Marinette?” He repeated, softer this time. He reached for her, but let his hand fall when once again he saw Roaar fly out of her purse.

“You can do it, guardian! And I’m right here with you!”

Marinette took a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

Closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, she balled her hands into fists and dropped them down to her sides. As she exhaled, she widened her stance so that she was more firmly rooted on the ground. When she opened her eyes again and met his, his stomach swooped, just the tiniest bit. He thought she had never looked more like her masked persona.

“Please tell me if I’m way off base here, but is your family…the Batfamily?”

Damian stared at her for a moment while she looked like she was expecting Batman himself to bust through the door any second. Then he groaned. “That fucking nickname.”

He grabbed her hand, flicked off the light, and started retracing their steps.

“Wait, Damian, that’s not an answer!” It was clear she was trying to dig in her heels to make him stop, but without an activated miraculous he had the advantage in strength and kept them moving down the hallway.

Soon enough, they arrived back at the dining room. His family paused their eating of the apple crisp that had been served while they were gone, and all chatter stopped. He was sure that they made quite the picture—him, slightly annoyed but no worse for wear; her, wide-eyed, somewhat flustered, mouth quickly snapping shut.

When everyone, and he meant everyone, zeroed in on the space between them, he realized he was still holding her hand, fingers interlocked—for a more solid grip while dragging her along, of course—and he let go. Before anyone could comment, he cleared his throat.

“She figured it out.”

From one moment to the next, the room went from silence to a burst of noise.

“She did it!”

“Ugh, what a relief, I hate acting.”

“I thought it was going to take at least three dinners and an ‘accidental’ mask lying around.”

“I thought it was going to take two dinners and an overheard conversation about patrols.”

But one voice cut through the chaos—“Alright losers, pay up!”

Damian watched incredulously as his entire family, including his father, pulled out their wallets and slapped money into Barbara’s outstretched hand, a wide grin on her face.

He felt his disbelief morph into an old standby, irritation. “You bet on when she would figure it out!” he exclaimed.

“And she did beautifully, too. ‘Before dessert,’” Barbara gloated, quoting her bet. She finished straightening the pile of money she now held, then gave it a kiss and stuffed it in her purse.

He turned to Alfred. “Did you know about this?” All he got was a raised eyebrow. “Right, stupid question.” Alfred knew everything.

“This was a test?”

Warning bells chimed in his head, and he spun around to look at Marinette. She looked as unsteady as her voice has sounded, so he swiftly pulled out her chair and guided her to it. She sat down hard.

“Yeah, it was,” Dick smiled sympathetically. “Sorry kid, but these are the things that tell us what kind of person, and hero, you are.”

“Oh.” To Damian’s horror, Marinette seemed to almost…wilt.

The others must have noticed this too, because Cass jumped in. “Two birds with one stone.”

“Yeah!” Stephanie elaborated. “When Cass and I first met you, the invite was just that. We still wanted to get to know you, test or no test. So this was just both!”

“Oh,” Marinette repeated, but this time she perked up. Then, her brow furrowed. “Wait, I want to make sure I have this right, but…” she trailed off, eyes darting around the room before landing on Damian.

“This room is secure,” he confirmed.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, shakier than the one back in the bathroom, but it still seemed to help. She pointed at him. “Robin.”

“You’re a genius,” he deadpanned. She giggled, and he could feel the corners of his mouth turning up. When he lifted his gaze from her, he could see more than one of his siblings gaping at him, so he flipped them off as discreetly as possible.

When she finished laughing, she seemed slightly more relaxed, and she turned to Cass. “You’re Batgirl,” she stated, no hint of a question in her voice. Cass just smiled.

Then she turned to Dick. “Nightwing.”

He put on his most charming grin. “At your service!” Damian wanted to puke.

Next was Barbara. “Oracle.”

“Thanks for the money.”

“Uh, no problem?”

Then Stephanie. “Spoiler.”

Jason. “Red Hood.”

Tim. “Red Robin.”

And lastly—she paused for a moment, then faced his father head-on and said with confidence, “Batman.”

Bruce simply rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers in front of his mouth, staring at her. Just as the silence was starting to get uncomfortable, he leaned back and said, “Explain how you put it together.”

“Oh, well,” she quickly glanced back at Damian, “I guess I first got suspicious when dinner began to feel less like a conversation and more like an interrogation?”

Jason snorted. “This fucking family doesn’t know how to be normal.” He slumped in his seat. “Yeah, yeah, Alfred, swear jar.”

“Actually Jason, the next thing was something you said,” Marinette addressed him.

“Me?” Jason sat up again, curious.

“Oui, you made a comment about me, um, ‘getting heart-eyes’ from Damian. Which was very similar to when Red Hood told us to stop ‘making heart-eyes’ at each other last night.” By the end of the sentence, her face was bright red, and Damian was sure his matched.

“Ah, and no one else has been brave enough to call you two on it.” Jason nodded with fake solemnity. “I see.”

Damian swore he could feel a vein throbbing at his temple. “Sleep with one eye open, Todd.”

“But then!” Marinette said, a little too loudly and a little too quickly, twisting to look at Damian, “Dick called you ‘Little D.’ And Nightwing called you that last night. And I remembered that Cass called you that when I first met her. The odds of your family and your team having the same number of people, being roughly the same age as far as I could tell, with the right matches physically, and using the same nickname for you, but not being the same people?” She shook her head. “It would also explain why you’re so close with your team and how you got started at such a young age. It just added up.”

She smiled at him, then turned back to his father. “Does that make sense?”

He considered her for a moment, then nodded. “It does.”

“Well with that settled, I do believe Master Damian and Miss Marinette need a chance to enjoy dessert,” Alfred cut in, standing up to dish out to each of them a piece of the apple crisp that had sat forgotten on the table. As he handed Marinette her plate, he looked her right in the eye.

“Congratulations. Welcome to the team."

Chapter Text

Robin was annoyed. Ever since the dinner, Menagerie had been joining the team on patrol whenever she was available. Batman had assigned her to basically shadow a different member of the team each night, and—giving his family one-on-one time with her? Life was starting to look a little bleak.

Additionally, whenever he tried to weasel out information on what they could’ve possibly told her about him—often while their business professor droned on and they had decided to stop paying attention—Marinette just gave him vague, non-answers like “Don’t worry,” and “Nothing important,” and “The world doesn’t revolve around you Damian, maybe we just discussed our favorite coffee brands, did you ever consider that?”

Then, when it was finally his night to patrol with her, she showed up looking like an alternate reality version of the Monkey Prince, which was really weirding him out. She had the same gold circlet around her head, with the two swirls where the ends met at the center of her forehead. She also had the same weapon, the staff he had learned was called the Ruyi Jingu Bang, dark brown tipped with gold on either end with the ability to magically change size at the whim of the wielder. At least her suit was more sensible—her mask was a gold-orange color that continued onto the neck and shoulders of her bodysuit, then faded into a dark brown on her back and outer arms and legs, and a light brown on her stomach and inner arms and legs.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t promise to never wear this one around me again,” Robin grumbled as he and Sanzang, as she was calling herself tonight, leapt from building to building.

“Xuppu would be upset if his miraculous was the only one I didn’t use. And if he was the only kwami who never met you. Besides,” she replied, “I think you’ll like him.”

“And why’s that?” he challenged.

“He likes to insult people.” Sanzang shot him a pointed look that he read loud and clear, despite the fact that they were currently midair.

Robin scoffed. “Still, I almost impaled you with a birdarang when you first showed up, before I realized that you weren’t that buffoon.”

“I’m sure the Monkey Prince isn’t as bad as you’re making him out to be.” Once they were both firmly on the roof of the building, she put her hands on her hips. “And birdarangs can’t pierce these suits.”

“You’ve got a lot left to learn if you don’t think we have work-arounds for magic,” he said.

Sanzang scowled, an expression that struck him as somewhat out-of-place on her. “What is with you tonight? It’s like you’re determined to argue.”

He was starting to get a sort of sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, seeing her irritated because of him, but he’d reached the point where he gave in to the old habit of never backing down from a fight. Just as he opened his mouth to say something that would undoubtedly make everything worse, his comm crackled to life.

“Sorry to break up your first lovers’ quarrel, but I just got a request for assistance from Catwoman,” Nightwing interjected. “She and the other Sirens need help down at Port Adams, which is closest to your patrol route. I’ll meet you there, I’m already on my way.”

 “Copy that,” Robin replied. He looked at Sanzang. “Follow me.”

Having also heard the message on her very own comm that she now received every time she turned up to patrol, she just nodded.

They raced across the rooftops, only stopping when the docks were in sight. Robin spoke up. “We’re here. No sign of the Sirens, though.”

“Hang on.” A few seconds later, Nightwing touched down on the building next to them.

“Alright, here’s the situation,” he said. “The Sirens went after shipments from Ocran Industries’ Gotham factory that just opened.”

“Why?” Sanzang asked.

“It’s notoriously non-environmentally friendly. What they didn’t know is that the company had hired the Maroni family for protection. Some of the extra guards got the jump on them and knocked out Ivy, so they had to retreat and revise their strategy. That’s when Catwoman called,” Nightwing filled them in. He cocked his head to the right. “They’re over this way, let’s go.”

A few traversed rooftops later, they found the women hiding amongst some shipping containers. The three vigilantes leapt down to join them, Nightwing adding a couple of flips before he stuck the landing.

“Show off,” Harley muttered from where she sat on the ground, cushioning Ivy’s head in her lap. Robin smirked. He knew there was a reason he liked her.

“C’mon Harls, don’t be like that!” Nightwing said playfully.

This just seemed to further irritate her. “I’ll be however I want!” She threw her arms out to her sides, then crossed them. “I didn’t even want you here.”

Robin frowned. He couldn’t think of a reason why she would genuinely be mad at them. He even dropped off treats for Bud and Lou a few weeks ago. “Why’s that?”

She rounded on him. “Like you don’t know!”

“Put the claws away, Harley, they might not,” Catwoman warned. She turned to the others. “When we were planning this…intervention, we found out that Wayne Enterprises is providing funds to Ocran Industries through a maze of shell corporations.”

“That can’t be right,” Nightwing said, puzzled. “Bruce would never work with them.”

Catwoman shrugged. “The paper trail is there. He might not be authorizing it, but someone is.”

The two brothers shared a look. That information was certainly concerning, but now was not the time to speculate about what could be going on.

“We can figure that out later. For now, we should worry about Maroni’s people,” Robin declared.

“The only one who will give us any trouble is the meta they have with them. He’s the one who got Ivy,” Catwoman glanced at her friend. “He has enhanced strength.”

“I can help with that.”

Everyone turned to Sanzang, who had been silent up until now. Catwoman peered at her curiously. “You must be the new one. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?” Sanzang looked shocked.

“Hey, Baby Bat!” Harley exclaimed. “She’s your little girlfriend? ‘S nice to meet you!” She waved at the younger woman.

 “Um…” Sanzang stared back, wide-eyed.

Robin changed his mind. Harley was on his shit list now. “Why does everyone keep assuming that?!” he hissed.

Nightwing interrupted. “What did you mean when you said you could help?”

“Oh!” Sanzang jolted. “The power I have with this transformation lets me temporarily disrupt a person’s powers. I just have to touch them with the toy I summon.”

“A toy?” Robin asked, exasperated.

“Look, I don’t make the rules.” She spread her hands in front of her as if to say what can you do?

“Okay, so we’ll get you close enough to him to use the power and round up the others,” Nightwing decided. “Sound good?”

“Works for me, Boy Wonder. I’ll show you the way.” Catwoman ruffled his hair as she walked past.

Robin whirled around, using the blunt edge of his katana to knock the gun from the hand of the guard nearest to him. In that moment, he saw Sanzang dodge what would have been a brutal punch from the meta and smack him square in the chest with…a cat plushie?

The meta stumbled, a bewildered look on his face. Before he even had a chance to realize what had happened to him, vines came shooting across the ground. They tied him up as well as the rest of the guards, all of whom had been knocked unconscious by one of the vigilantes.

“Red!” Harley exclaimed, rushing to where her girlfriend stood, still a little unsteady on her feet and undeniably pissed off.

“Hey Harls,” Ivy said, leaning into Harley as she wrapped Ivy up in a hug. “I see you called in some backup,” she muttered darkly.

“It was all Selina’s idea,” Harley replied. “They claim not to know anythin’ ‘bout what we found.”

Robin braced himself for Ivy to argue the point, but it seemed that something else caught her attention.

“Now who is this?” She extracted herself from Harley and sauntered over to Sanzang. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Ah, no ma’am,” she said, wide-eyed. “I’m Sanzang. Or, well, tonight I am. It changes depending on the costume I’m wearing. They generally call me Menagerie,” she waved a hand in Robin and Nightwing’s direction without even looking at them. “You can call me whatever you want.” She noticeably clamped her mouth shut at that, a blush forming on her cheeks.

“Whatever I want, hmm?” Ivy chuckled, then peered at Robin, who could metaphorically feel his hackles raising. “I think I’ll stick with Menagerie. We don’t want to upset your boyfriend, do we?”

“Right,” Sanzang nodded, automatically agreeing. Then she seemed to actually process what she heard. “Wait, what?”

Ivy pasted an innocent expression on her face. “Oh, is that not the situation?”

Robin didn’t know when the whole world had decided to get on his every last nerve, but he could tell the conspiracy was real when Ivy shot him the briefest glance before continuing. “Then maybe you wouldn’t mind ditching him to spend some time with us girls.”

“Yeah!” Harley cut in, slinging an arm around Sanzang’s shoulders. The younger girl remained frozen in her confusion. “The way you took that guy out? So cool! You gotta hang with us sometime!” Harley leaned in with a wide grin while Catwoman looked on with a much more reasonably-sized smile.

This was Robin’s breaking point. “She most certainly will not get mixed up with you three! The only reason we don’t investigate your shady activities more closely is because of my father’s weak spot for you,” he spat, jabbing an accusing finger at Catwoman.

The woman in question just rolled her eyes. “You really are his kid. So uptight.” She then turned to her fellow Sirens, placing a hand on her cocked hip and nodding at the still-unconscious guards. “Well ladies, I think it’s time we took out the trash.”

Ivy quickly wrapped the men up in one large, tangled mess of vines, and without so much as a goodbye, the three women took off.

Robin huffed and turned to head in the opposite direction. He was still within earshot when Sanzang must have shaken out of her stupor, because he heard her ask, “What was that?”

It was followed with the sound of Nightwing patting her on the shoulder and saying, “I’ve learned not to question it.”

Damian knew that he had no real reason to be annoyed with her over the encounter with the Sirens, but still the feeling persisted. So when Marinette kept trying to start conversations with him in class the next morning, all he could muster were a few one-word answers to her questions before promptly ignoring her. He even went so far as to pretend to listen to their professor's lecture about who knows what—he wasn’t desperate enough to actually pay attention.

“Oh my kwami, what has gotten into you?” she hissed. “You were like this last night too, but it now it’s even worse…Wait, is this about the S—”

“You know better than to talk about that here!” he hissed back, finally glancing over at her. As soon as he did, Damian saw the smug grin on Marinette’s face and realized he had been played. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave out the names. But seriously, why did that get you so worked up? I mean, they teased us a little bit,” she said, turning red as she recalled the Sirens’ comments about their relationship. “And there was that…misunderstanding at first, but otherwise they were perfectly nice. They even want to hang out with me!”

Damian had always been described as strong-willed, and that trait was currently helping him resist Marinette’s imploring look. He didn’t have to explain himself, no matter how big and bright she made her extremely blue eyes! Instead, he crossed his arms and slouched down in his seat with nothing more than a “Hn.”

However, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t going to explain because she figured it out, which he really should have anticipated. He could see the precise moment the metaphorical lightbulb went off and he knew he was doomed.

“Oh, oh I see.” Marinette spoke slowly, putting the pieces together. She lowered her voice to ensure that no one else in the class could hear her. “You’ve been irritated that I’ve been patrolling with the rest of your family, and now you’re pissy—”

“I’m not ‘pissy’—”

“—yes you are, you’re pissy that I might hang out with the Sirens. Without you.” She leaned in, going for the kill. “You didn’t have a real childhood, and then you were the richest kid around. You never learned how to share.”

Damian turned in his seat to face her and leaned in too, narrowing his eyes. “And if you’re right? What then?”

She shrugged. “That’s a ‘you’ problem. I can live my life how I want, including spending time with who I want, and you will just have to learn to deal with it,” she said poking him in the chest for emphasis.

He was saved from having to come up with a response by the sudden flurry of activity as the class was dismissed. In the brief second he was distracted by the other students packing up their things, Marinette also put away her unused notebook, grabbed her backpack, empty coffee cup, and phone, and hightailed it out of the room. As soon as he realized this, Damian let out a quiet curse, quickly gathered his things as well, and sped after her.

Ignoring their fellow students eyeing him, likely surprised by the sight of Damian Wayne willingly approaching someone, he soon caught up to her on a nearby campus lawn. “Wait, Marinette.” He gently grabbed her arm, encouraging her to turn and face him while he steeled himself for what he was about to say. “You’re right.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment. “I get the feeling you don’t say that often. Maybe you should repeat it, just to make sure I heard you correctly.”

He rolled his eyes. “The more you brag the less likely you are to hear it again.”

That finally got her to crack a smile. “What exactly am I right about?”

Damian took a deep breath. “I’ve always found it hard to share the attentions of people in my life, for one reason or another, be it my parents, siblings, or teammates.”

“I’ve had other friends here at school since before I even met you, and you’ve never been bothered by them,” she pointed out. “Why is it suddenly a problem?”

His brow furrowed in thought. “I think it’s because you’re spending time with people who have known me since I arrived in Gotham. I know I’m not exactly the nicest person around, and I don’t want to be. But I’ve told you a bit about my upbringing.” They both grimaced. “When I first came here, I was an unholy terror. I suppose I’m concerned that my family, and even the Sirens, might tell you stories from that time and scare you off.”

As he admitted this, Damian broke eye contact and glanced down. He caught sight of his grip on the strap of his backpack and realized he was so tense that his knuckles had turned white. He let go, flexing his fingers to get the blood flowing again while he waited for a response.

“When have I ever given the impression that I scare easily?”

His eyes snapped back to Marinette’s face and zeroed in on her amused grin.

“I meant what I said back when you first told me about it. What matters to me is the person you are now, not what you did when you were a kid. Besides, at this point I think you’re stuck with me. You a-and your family!” she tacked on, pink dusting her cheeks.

“Yes, well…” He wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but he could also feel heat spreading across his face as they simply stared at each other.

“So!” Marinette rescued them from the awkward silence. “If I tell you that I’m patrolling with Dick tonight…?”

“Then I hope everything goes smoothly and I won’t get upset about it,” he finished her thought. The second part was mostly true. He’d work on it.

All of a sudden, he found himself wrapped in a hug. “Thank you for apologizing,” she said, a bit muffled where her face was buried in his chest. Her arms squeezed into the space between his backpack and torso so that they could wrap securely around him.

He froze for the briefest moment before slightly bending over to wrap his arms around her shoulders in return. Was this their first hug? It had to be.

And he was abruptly taken out of the moment by noticing the other students on the lawn. While they had remained far enough away for Damian and Marinette to talk freely, they were clearly watching and talking about the two of them. There was only one appropriate solution.

“Stop glaring.”

“You don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, they should stop blatantly gossiping.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t care about being nice.” He both felt and heard Marinette let out an exaggerated sigh, yet when she pulled away, she was smiling. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Damian’s internal lecture telling him that she didn’t mean “have you” like that almost caused him to miss what she said next, but he was jolted back to awareness by her looping their arms together. “I think we should commemorate today with ice cream!”

“Commemorate?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she said, adopting a matter-of-fact tone that was undercut by the teasing spark in her eyes. “From now on, we’ll always remember it as the day you apologized to me.”

“Don’t you think that’s somewhat dramatic?” he said drily. Marinette started walking, tugging on his arm. He continued to shoot subtle glares at the people they passed when she wasn’t looking.

“Nope!” she said brightly. Then, as if it was an afterthought, she added, “And all the stories your family has told me have been endearing anyway.”

Something in his neck might have popped with how sharply he turned toward her. “What. Stories.”

She continued to face forward, but he could see the hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth. “Dick says that you totally idolized him while your father was away.”

“That is a complete mischaracterization!” Maybe he got it wrong when he imagined the picture his family was painting of him, but Damian was certain that the whole lot of them were unreliable narrators.

His attempts to gather information on any further misinformation she’d been fed were unsuccessful, but he could be patient. He’d set the record straight…but maybe ice cream could come first.