Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Crowler.”

The smile on my face was one that I had learned to perfect in the two months since I had started working here. It was as fake as Mr. Crowler’s ‘designer’ suit, as in you wouldn’t know unless you knew. It pretended to speak of how sorry I was that I was incapable of changing anything my coworkers were complaining about. While hiding my frustration at the condescending tone many of them liked to take with me. Which was funny because I at least didn’t have a hard time understanding basic English, and it wasn’t even my first language.

Today, the smile was plastered on my face because of Mr. Crowler’s inability to understand that Mr. Wayne doesn’t tend to show up to the office before ten. A fact known by what I thought was everyone, and a marked improvement from noon when I first started.

“I will be sure to have Mr. Wayne sign the documents as soon as he arrives in the office and then have them returned to you.”

“Ms. Dupain.”

“Dupain-Cheng.” I corrected him with a slightly sharp tone.

“Right. Ms. Dupain-Cheng. I cannot move forward with this project until I get these signed by Mr. Wayne.” He began to hit my desk with his hands in a way that mimicked a karate chop, as if doing so would make my pea size brain finally process what he was saying. “Any delays in moving forward means money lost by the company. So maybe you can understand why I need them now.”

“Mr. Crowler, I do understand, more than you know. All that is required however is my signature by proxy, which Mr. Wayne approved the very first month I started working here. But as that doesn’t work for you, you’ll have to wait until he arrives...I cannot begin to speculate when that will be, as Mr. Wayne is a very busy man. As you well know. But I assure you it will be as soon as he is able.”

The steam rising from Mr. Crowler’s forehead could have heated several homes during the winter. He –like so many others – believed that I would easily cave to his demands, but I’d been here long enough to know – thanks to Mr. Wayne – I had more clout than almost anyone. Those who had had more, never tried such tactics with me as they were smart enough to respect the work I did for the company and Mr. Wayne. I may just be the personal assistant on paper, but half the time I was fulfilling the CEO duties as Mr. Wayne did kwamis knows what.

“The choice is yours as to which avenue you would like to go. I can sign them now or Mr. Wayne can sign them later.”

I settled my chin on my overlaid fingers as my elbows rested on the table, giving the perfect air of not caring. In reality, I didn’t. Despite how important Mr. Cowler thought he and his project were, the reality was even a week delay wouldn’t cost the company any money. We were still waiting for the government’s final approval before we could truly move forward with production. It was a risk to the company – in fact, to begin production without it. Luckily for Mr. Cowler, Mr. Wayne was willing to take that risk, hence why I was willing to sign the documents if he would just get over himself.

Scoffing, Mr. Cowler all but threw the papers on the desk before me.  “Just sign them then.”

I awarded his tantrum with my winning smile as I took the pen from in front of me and signed the papers on Mr. Wayne’s behalf. Making sure that I took my time in making my name as legible as possible so there was no mistake as to whose signature it was. Not that there really could be a mistake as Mr. Wayne’s signature was chicken scratch.

“Just be sure that you let Mr. Wayne know that you signed for him. I don’t want to be in trouble later for not waiting.”

“Of course, Mr. Crowler. I will be sure to let him know when he gets in.” As soon as his back was to me my smile dropped, and I hissed in his direction.

Condescending, superiority complexed, piece of human waste.

Just another day in the life of Mr. Wayne’s Personal Assistant. A job I did not ask for, but fell into when I relocated to Gotham. While working for any other department of Wayne Enterprises would have suited me just fine, I was lucky enough to show up for my first day on the job as Mr. Fox’s PA when Mr. Wayne’s quit the day before.

Shocker!

That day I became the punching bag of anyone who wanted to interact with Mr. Wayne but was unable to do so. The gate keeper of an office that was rarely filled. The errand girl for the most mundane and asinine request. But most importantly and the best resume builder, I became the pseudo-CEO, considering that Mr. Wayne rarely made it to the office to tackle everything he needed to do, and spent most of his time with Mr. Fox down in Research and Development when he was in.

For the life of me, I cannot understand why the man chose the title of CEO when he really wanted to be a grunt in R&D. He should have given the job over to someone on the board and taken the paycheck for being the owner without the responsibilities. It would fit his lifestyle better, make the office run smoother and my life so much less miserable.

Okay, truth be told, his absence from the office made my life a little easier. If the world needed Ladybug or Lady Noire suddenly – which did happen on occasion, there’s no one requiring an excuse when I step out of the office for a minute. Or notice when I show up to work an hour later than I should when I snooze my alarms. Or complain when a quick jaunt to Tibet takes an extra day and therefore no one is in the office at all.

His absence was likely the reason I still had a job as he’d given me free reign after the first month to ensure I was able to do what needed to be done. So, using the excuse I was doing something for him was never questioned, even by the man himself.

I was good at my job and could have probably been a CEO of my own company at this point if not for a minor detail. Being the Guardian of the Miraculous made it impossible to run a company properly. My eccentric behavior was perfect for a little old secretary, but it would never fly as the owner and CEO of a fashion brand.

C’est la vie.

I rubbed my eyes as I brushed off my dealings with Mr. Crowler and prepared an email to be sent to Mr. Wayne detailing the interaction. There was no telling if Mr. Wayne would in fact be in the office today, so I needed to be sure I had a paper trail for the actions I took on his behalf. For one never knew when someone might question them.

It was a comfort to know that my emails weren’t a total waste of time as he always responded. So, I knew he read them and was at least versed in what was happening in his name. I’ll even admit that he followed up as needed when appropriate and is frustratingly good at his job when he does it.

As I finished my email and pressed send, the elevator dinged, signaling the arrival of another poor soul needing to see the boss. The doors opened to show a man in an exquisitely designed suit. Despite being for business, it hugged the wearer in all the right places to show case his impeccable body.  The display was helped by the fact that his suit jacket was opened and his hands were resting on his hips; causing his dress shirt to stretch across his pecks that were clearly as defined as the washboard abs that were barely hidden beneath the fabric.

Yet, it was the chiseled face of the man that drew the most attention. Dark hair framed the strong masculine features that any artist would get lost in replicating. But it was the dark blue eyes – currently being hidden by sunglasses – that were the most captivating. A fine specimen of a man by all accounts, it was just too bad that I knew the man the body belong to. The boss himself, Bruce Wayne.

I shook my head after spending what was likely too long taking in his appearance. Hoping that he hadn’t noticed my attention. His smirk told me I failed. 

He strolled out of the elevator with a slight limp that favored his right leg. The sunglasses he wore were not due to the dreary Gotham day but the large shiner that he had attempted to cover in a crude attempt at make-up. In short, Mr. Wayne looked a little worse for wear despite my first impression.

Knowing him, he’d likely gone out the night before and defended the honor of his newest girlfriend – I use the term loosely given his reputation. Actually, given his reputation, the fight was more likely caused by him trying to pick up another guy’s girlfriend after she’d given him some attention.

If there was one thing you could say about Bruce Wayne, it was that he had no remorse or guilt for his behavior. He took pride in everything that he did and didn’t do, and I do mean everything.

The very first day I came to work for him, before I’d even had the luxury of getting to meet the man, I had been sent off to his very important business meeting to deliver documents that had to be signed immediately.

That business meeting had turned out to be two blondes, who were very close business associates based on their attire and the way they were hanging off Mr. Wayne in the very public restaurant in the heart of downtown Gotham.

The reason behind his PA quitting the day before was never a mystery to me after that introduction. Mr. Wayne had at least had the decency to ensure I never walked in on a similar situation since. However, I learned that day nothing had to be signed immediately and if I wanted something to be done on time and taken seriously I would have to do it myself.

His previous PA might not have been able to deal with Mr. Wayne, but I’d always been flexible and had an ability to work with what I was given. Allowing me to adjust to his office quirks quickly, find my paycheck doubled after the first week, and gain the respect of all the department heads who praised the sudden efficiency coming from the CEO’s office.

It was their underlings, such as Mr. Crowler, who seemed to misunderstand the score and thought I was nothing more than an office greeter.

“Mr. Wayne,” I greeted him as he crossed my desk before walking into his office, grabbing my things before I followed him in. “Here are the notes of all the calls I’ve received this morning and the documents that require your signature. Can I grab you anything as you settle into your office for the day?”

He hooked his coat on the rack by the door as I placed the documents at the corner of his desk where he liked them.

He turned towards me and I got to take in the full effect of the shirt that he had chosen to wear this afternoon. I’d ensured that the forest green material cinched him at all the right places, so an observer could appreciate the care that he took with his body. It likely fed his ego, but I hated the idea of not putting my all into one of my designs, even if it was being worn by him.

Mr. Wayne had no idea that he was wearing a shirt that I had spent a few too many evenings creating, but he’d been thrilled to learn he was one of the few in possession of an MDC Original.

Or five.

I could have ordered him an Armani like he normally wore, but for some reason I couldn’t resist.

It had nothing to do with the fact that I wanted to appreciate the design when he was in the office. Which I do, I mean why wouldn’t I, I designed the shirts after all. It afforded me the opportunity to briefly daydream of being in my own fashion house instead of his office, especially as my shirts became his new favorites and he wore them frequently.

The reason I spent so long making sure that they fit him perfectly was to showcase my skills, not his body. I knew with his fame and position others would see them, ask about them, and then I would reap the benefits of further commissions – that I may or may not have time to fill. And it definitely didn’t bother me that other women also got to appreciate the designs – which they did frequently – but never seemed to follow up on their inquiries about the designer.

“No, thank you. Did Mr. Crowler come in this morning?” Once again, I was forced out of my reflective state by Mr. Wayne’s knowing smile. Surely, by this point he had to know I was prone to spacing out, rather than believing I was just another woman he’d caught ogling.

He was at least gracious enough to spare me the embarrassment of trying to explain my mindlessness by never mentioning his supposed observations. But I knew what he was thinking as he tried to shoot me that devilish smirk that he used to lure in women.

Figuring out how to ignore that smirk had become a pastime of mine.

“He just left; I signed the papers that he brought in as he said that the timeline was imperative. I outlined the main points in the email I sent to your account and a copy of the contract is in the papers on your desk. I should be able to answer any further questions you may have.”

“I never do, your emails are always very thorough. Thank you,” he winked before sitting at his desk and logging onto his computer for the day.

The small gesture had once caused my heart to flip like it had with Adrien. No man had caused such a reaction since, and it killed me that Mr. Wayne was the one to cause its return and that the treacherous organ seemed to miss the memo that it was not welcomed.

I’d been so sure Adrien was going to be my end game, especially once I learned that he was Chat Noir and we started dating. But something broke in him when we found out that Hawkmoth was his father. Nothing I did nor time was able to help, and once we defeated the second butterfly he left without saying goodbye.

I found the ring on our kitchen island and the rent paid out through the end of the lease. It’s possible that I could have found him if I’d looked, but he’d given up the one thing that would have forced me to follow and left me. I didn’t want to face the reasons we fell apart, but I knew why. So, I respected his choice, filed away the part of my life that included him, resigned myself to being alone and left Paris as the final tether to the city disappeared.

So, one could understand why it would be frustrating that the first man, only man, to cause similar desires would be someone so unworthy of even being compared.

Both came from families with money, but where Adrien was humble and did things for the greater good of the people, Mr. Wayne flaunted his wealth and did things for the greater good of himself. Adrien had been a hero and I was sure that he was likely still doing things wherever he was that would be worthy of the moniker. Mr. Wayne, well he’d done things that one could describe as heroic, but he was no hero.

Sure, one time we were out to lunch with a business associate when the restaurant was held up by a Gotham regular. It was Mr. Wayne who’d taken down the mobster when he’d threatened to do ungentlemanly things to me. While his chivalrous act was unneeded for obvious reasons, I’d briefly been captured under the white knight’s guise. Only for it to be ruined when he asked me to dinner before the police arrived.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew the type and what they thought when they considered me. I’d been fending off such men since the split with Adrien.

Mr. Wayne only saw me as another notch on his bed post, a position that I refused to be in. I might find the man insanely attractive, charming, and really- pleasantly indescribable during our interactions, but that didn’t change who he was.

At his core he was a player, plain and simple. He wasn’t relationship material because he didn’t do relationships, and I didn’t do flings because I didn’t invite trouble.

Men like him don’t settle down. Sure, there might eventually be a Mrs. Wayne, an obligatory trophy for him to display once he’s reached that certain age. A woman naïve enough to believe she would be enough to change his ways and maybe for a short period of time he would. But then his eyes would wander – why not, his married status wouldn’t deter women from flirting with him. He wouldn’t understand why a man like him had to remain faithful when he could have his pick. Then there would be no Mrs. Wayne. Until there was another poor sap who was blinded by his money and him, only to become the future ex-Mrs. Wayne.

Nope, I wanted no part in that, especially with the cliché billionaire and his personal assistant motif. There could never be anything between Mr. Wayne and myself despite what he thinks.

Never.

Chapter Text

“Is there anything else you require, Master Dick.”

“No. Thank you, Alfred.” No sooner had the words left my mouth, had the man left the room and I was alone again.

The new status quo, an existence free of human interaction aside from snippets. A constant reminder that I was now alone.

Maybe not truly alone, but void of any company that mattered.

The filet mignon with whipped potatoes, green beans sauteed with garlic and a fresh yeast roll was the fanciest meal ever placed before me. The total cost of each meal since I’d come here was probably worth more than a month’s pay for me and my parents. Yet, I would trade it all for the simple grilled lamb—that was often burnt—of my dad’s, because with it always came the warmth, steady presence, and love of my parents.

There was nothing that I wanted more—even if it could only be a fraction of what it was—since my parents died two weeks ago. At this point I’d settle for simply another person looking at me with any kind of emotion in their eyes. More than the few interactions with Alfred as he attended his duties and the awkward, silence filled dinners with Mr. Wayne.

Mr. Wayne was generous for taking me in when he didn’t have to, and I was appreciative of him doing so—no doubt the foster care system would have been far worse. My parents had always instilled the importance of acknowledging the things people did for me by recognizing the cost, inconvenience and sometimes emotions associated with. But I couldn’t help that the expansive manor felt more like a fancy prison than my new home. For the past two weeks I’d felt like I was locked in isolation, with no visitors. Alfred being the guard and Mr. Wayne the warden. My sentence of two years—till I turned eighteen—feeling already like it would never end.

Never had I wished for the many creature comforts of a normal sixteen-year-old, I’d always been content with only having my parents, a trapeze and an elephant as my closest friend. Now, I longed for a gaming system, a large television with Netflix, and I would even take ‘girl drama.’

Despite Mr. Wayne being less than fifteen years older than me, the manor held none of these comforts that promised a distraction from my own excruciating thoughts. It left me wondering if he had ever been a child or teenager. It was like he’d been born and then the next day he was in a business suit trying to take over the world.

Alfred had once tried to comfort me by relaying that Mr. Wayne had suffered a similar loss when he was much younger than me. A thing we had in common. A jumping point to begin an awkward conversation instead of the awkward silence. It was possibly the reason Mr. Wayne decided to take me in, a companion in misery. But this feeling, the pain, the longing, the wish for it all to end…I didn’t want to feel like this forever. If the little snippet of Mr. Wayne’s life as I’d been privy to so far, was any indication as to what it was like to wallow in these feelings…

No. Thank. You.

Mr. Wayne leaves the manor before I usually wake up in the morning, but not by much as Alfred is usually clearing his plate when I enter the dining room by nine. He spends all day at work before he comes home just in time for dinner. We dine in silence, with Alfred the only one who seems able to break the unspoken tension. I often watch Mr. Wayne look at me like he has something to say but isn’t sure how to say it. I wish he’d just come out with it; uncomfortable conversation is at least better than no conversation at all. Most awkward though, as soon as Alfred clears his dinner plate, Mr. Wayne leaves the table as if any further second he remained a patient would die from his absence. Leaving me to consume my dessert alone while he remains unseen for the rest of the evening.

During his time away—which is basically the entire day—the manor is mine to use as my own. Although I feel like a tourist visiting a museum as most things in the house cost more than my parent’s trailer and all our worldly possessions combined. So, I’ve confined myself to a few rooms to prevent any accidents from happening.

Especially after the chandelier incident.

Two nights ago, my adolescent brain decided to take him up on the offer of mi casa su casa. I was missing the feeling of flying after being confined to the ground for so long. The only thing I’d been able to find that I thought could support my weight and offer a similar experience to the trapeze was the foyer’s chandelier.

I wasn’t wrong, I’d spent an entire 10 minutes performing various tricks with no problems. It wasn’t until my double layout somersault dismount that the chandelier showed any sign that I’d miscalculated.

I’d landed beautifully on the floor, feet together, no step forward, arms raised gracefully above my head. The chandelier landed by shattering into thousands of tiny crystal pieces in every direction of the large foyer.

All in front of Mr. Wayne who was uncharacteristically home to witness the whole affair.

The look that he gave me set my nerves on fire. It wasn’t one of anger but contemplative of life decisions. I’m confident he was trying to determine just how much labor I would owe him to pay him back. Or even more likely, how hard it would be to try and pawn me off—back to Child Services.

Since then, I’d been avoiding everything in the manor including its owner, keeping myself locked away in my assigned room except for meals—more so than usual. I’d been successful thus far, and Mr. Wayne has had work obligations keeping him away from dinner the past few nights.

While I appreciated not having to worry about atoning for the chandelier incident, I’ll admit that my self-imposed isolation has taken a further toll and I would happily take the lecture if it resulted in some form of human interaction.

Least I fall back down the spiral of misery I’d been slowly digging out of the last two weeks.

“I already told you, Mr. Fraser,” an angelic voice floated from down the hall and made its way to the dining room, “I will get the information you require and return to the office post haste.”

A beautiful woman walked into the dining room distractedly. She wore business attire, but it spoke of more than what you’d find off the rack. I knew immediately she must work with Mr. Wayne, coupled by both her outfit and the air of confidence she carried herself with, she must be someone of importance.

That, or I now knew why Mr. Wayne disappeared after dinner.

I may only be sixteen years old and still considered a child by society, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t blind or that my teenage hormones didn’t recognize a true beauty.

Mr. Wayne was a very, very lucky man.

Before she noticed she wasn’t alone in the room she hung up her cellphone and stuck her tongue out at it in a childish fashion. Pocketing her phone, she finally looked up to catch me staring. Instead of the shock, anger, or annoyance which I expected, she smiled so brightly I instantly felt a warmth that had been missing since my parents’ death.

For the first time in the two weeks since it had happened, I smiled.

Her hands immediately rose to her face as if shielding her eyes from a flash of light. “Oh, so bright,” she joked, chuckling as my smile no doubt grew from her playful nature.

She’d spoken so few words to me, yet I already knew I liked her.

Without waiting for an invitation, she gracefully slid into the seat beside me. Angling her body so that it was facing me in a way that I knew her attention was meant only for me—never mind the reason she came into the room in the first place.

A hand reached out in front of me and waited. I took it in mine, but I was unsure whether to hold it softly as her hand looked so small and delicate, or shake it firmly to appear strong. As my hand encompassed hers the decision was made for me as she shook it with a surprising strength you wouldn’t guess she possessed.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” was said in a warm, welcoming tone. A barely detectable accent—French if I had to guess—circled the words in a way that infused an instant ease to the room like a melody in music.

I was surprised she hadn’t started with asking who I was, why I was here, or even inquiring about the whereabouts of Mr. Wayne—who was obviously the reason for her arrival.

Still, I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, “Dick Grayson.”

I watched as her eyebrows furrowed briefly before there was a spark of recognition. Her face contorted into one that reflected a level of sympathy and understanding before she dropped it and her smile returned. Its brightness diminished slightly.

“I seem to have interrupted your meal. Would you mind terribly if I wait with you for Mr. Wayne. I would appreciate the company.”

Honestly it was hard to keep my excitement at bay and not obvious as my voice rose a few octaves when I replied with an emphatical “yes.”

With the promise of company my appetite reappeared. I cut into my steak and took the first bite with gusto. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell that she used my distraction as an opportunity to study me. The food stuck in my throat as I swallowed, waiting for the result of her appraisal.

“Someone that can smile so brightly like that is usually masking a fair amount of pain,” she stated as if it were just another known fact. “It’s why when they truly smile, it beams…since it’s so rare. I think it’s because they find there are fewer things to really smile about.”

I choked on the sip of water I had taken—for only interacting with me for a brief time she could read me so well. “Do you speak from experience?”

Marinette nodded her head. “Sort of—one of my closest friends in high school. His mother passed away when he was thirteen, his father was emotionally abusive and expected him to always exude perfection. When he smiled most people couldn’t tell it was fake, but I knew because when he truly smiled, he lit up. Its why he earned the nickname Sunshine from our friends.”

She looked down as she smiled bittersweetly. “He hid his pain for a long time, and it did a number to his mental health. Eventually he was given an outlet that allowed him the opportunity to process his pain and be who he wanted without the expectations of his father. But he once told me that what helped the most was having people that he could talk to about what he was going through. I will always be honored to know that at one point, I was one of those people.”

She reached out and grabbed my hand that I hadn’t noticed came to rest on the table. A quick look into her eyes and I saw her offering, she was presenting herself to be that person for me.

“What happened to him?”

“He eventually left Paris—where I am from. It was too close to- I was too close to the memories that held his pain.”

If bright smiles masked hidden pain, then she must have her own in spades. I instantly knew I wanted to be her person and her to be mine.

“I miss my parents,” I whispered as if saying it softly could make it hurt less.

There was no hesitation as she leaned across the small space between us and wrapped her arms around me to pull me up out of my chair and into a warm embrace.

Marinette’s hug was so like my mom’s. No uncomfortable distance between us. Her hand gently placing my head upon her shoulder before she wrapped it around my back. Her hands holding her arms in a firm grasp, making my whole body feel embraced. Her heartbeat setting a cadence that mine would try to match.

Most importantly, she just remained.

As the silent sobs began to wreck my body, she held firm. She didn’t pull back as if my tears were unwelcomed or unexpected. She didn’t coo or verbally sooth as if to wish their silence. Instead, her grip on me tightened and her head came to rest on my own.

It was the first time I’d cried since the night of my parents’ death, and I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed it. I pulled away before I risked some of my snot staining her beautiful grey blouse. I tried not to look at her as my emotions were conflicted. I didn’t want to appear weak in front of her, but I was also thankful for her compassion and presence.

Marinette waited patiently as I gathered myself, saying nothing. Not asking if I was better, because she no doubt knew that better was a state that wouldn’t exist for a long time. At least not until my parents’ murder was given the justice it deserved. No, what this offered was the ability for the pain to become more tolerable, temporarily.

“What’s your happiest memory with them?” She sat back down, and I followed suit, wiping the tears from my cheeks as discreetly as possible.

There were so many happy memories for me to choose from. I was a lucky kid. Despite being on the road as a performer all year and being homeschooled my entire life, my life had been good—no, it had been great. But the happiest memory was easy to pick.

“The first time I was able to do a quadruple somersault. My parents were so proud of me as they were only ever able to do a triple. They took me around the circus and told everyone about the new skill. Then they took me out for ice cream and let me have the largest sundae the place offered. I was only able to finish a quarter of it, but they didn’t complain. I felt like they were so proud of me—not that they ever made me feel like they weren’t—but that day they made sure that I knew it.”

“A quadruple? Wow, that’s quite impressive. They have a lot to be proud of.”

I closed my eyes as the memories of flying in the air with my parents overwhelmed me. Tears pricked at the edges once more. When I looked at Marinette she was smiling at me, not with sympathy—which I appreciated—but fondness.

“I like you, have a lot to choose from. But my fondest was the night my papa beat me at Ultimate Mecha Strike III.”

I looked at her incredulously, “you were happy that your dad beat you at a video game?”

She chuckled; the sound was as melodic as a bell. “You see, he hadn’t been able to defeat me since Ultimate Mecha Strike II. He was just so happy that he did this little victory dance—I can still picture it now when I close my eyes. My maman was so proud of him that she jumped into his arms, and he spun her around and around.” Marinette looked down again, “he instantly challenged me again only to be soundly defeated. My maman turned to me, gave me the biggest hug and said, ‘you show him whose boss sweetheart.’”

Her parents sounded just as amazing and supportive as mine.

“It’s the memory of that night, that reminds me of how supported and loved I was, and how much I loved them.”

It was at that moment I realized that she talked about her parents in the past tense. A new kind of pain emerged with the knowledge that we shared a similar grief. Her ability to know what I needed was not something one could learn in a book, no, they had to have experience with it.

“Have your parents passed too?”

She smiled and I instantly understood what she meant about the difference between a fake smile that hid pain and a real one. “They were killed by a terrorist when I was seventeen.”

I didn’t know how to respond. What do you say to someone whose parents were killed? Was there anything that you could say? I suspected that my parents were killed and there was nothing anyone could say to me other than, ‘we found the killer and he’s now in jail,’ that would even begin to be the right thing.

“Did they ever get justice?”

“Do you mean did the man responsible ever get his day in court?” I nodded my head. “Yes, he and his predecessor are rotting in a French prison as we speak.”

She grabbed my hand and looked right at me. “But what you really meant by your question is no doubt did my parents get their justice.”

I was confused. I was pretty sure that’s not what I meant or at least she’d already answered that. It was obvious she was going somewhere, so I let her continue.

“Yes, they continue to get their justice because I make sure that their memory isn’t forgotten. That I act and do things in a way that continues to honor them. Plus, there are still heroes all over the world that fight to make sure that villains like Hawkmoth and Papillion are stopped from hurting more people like my parents.”

“Did you leave Paris because of the memories, like your friend did?”

Her head tilted in a way that hinted that she’d never considered it before. “I suppose it did contribute to making it easier for me to leave when the time came.”

“Does it get easier?” I finally voiced the question that no one seemed to be able to answer without an automatic yes that felt contrived verse factual.

She pulled back in her chair as her face contorted. I thought that my question might have offended her or maybe brought up too much pain for her to collect her thoughts. Before I was able to apologize, she began, “I can’t answer that question for you. I think pain and grieving are so personal, so one person’s experience won’t be reflected in another’s. Personally, most days are better, but there are times that something reminds me of them, I see someone suffering from similar pain,” she looked pointedly at me, “and it feels just like it did when I first lost them. The way you move forward will probably influence how it is for you. If you choose to wallow in the pain, it will likely become overwhelming, and you’ll be unlikely to ever escape it.”

That sounded miserable and exactly how I didn’t want the rest of my life to be. “How do you prevent that; I don’t want to forget about them, but I don’t want to be lost and defined by this pain.”

“Oh no,” she cooed, “never forget, never. For me, it’s remembering everything good about them and trying to reflect that in my life. For other’s it’s taking up causes in their memory. Either way, I think the best way is to remember the positives and not dwell on why they’re not here with us.”

“How can I do that when I know they’ve been murdered. Their murderer needs to find justice like your parents' did. The police have classified it as a freak accident and aren’t going to look into it,” I yelled out. Surprising even myself as my hand came to cover the orifice responsible for the outburst.

It couldn’t be helped though. I knew they were killed; my parents were meticulous about checking their wires before every show, there was no way they’d missed a frayed one.

No way.

I could tell that she was studying my face, and I tried not to show the extent of my anger, but I knew it was there. I had my suspicions as to the guilty party, but I had no proof—yet.

“Luckily, from my year here in Gotham, I’ve learned about a man who offers justice for those who haven’t been able to get it for themselves.”

“You mean Batman? He’s been around for years, why would he help someone like me?”

“The same reason that Mr. Wayne took you in, because everyone deserves help.”

I felt a spark of hope that I might be able to get my parents the justice that was being denied to them by the police, but it faded as reality settled. “How would I get a hold of Batman? He’s allusive and I have no way to contact him to even let him know about my parents. It’s not like I could borrow the Bat-Signal.”

Marinette squeezed my hand, and it surprisingly renewed a piece of hope. “We’ll find a way together.”

I returned to eating, even though my meal had grown cold during our conversation. She continued to talk about her fondest memories of her parents, truly keeping their memories alive. I listened and offered some of my own stories until my meal was complete.

On cue, Alfred arrived to pick up my plate before placing the dessert offering in front of myself and Marinette. Looking up at the clock that sat on the fireplace mantel I realized that an hour had passed since I had sat to eat. and Marinette had arrived looking for Mr. Wayne.

“Good evening, Alfred,” she greeted the man like a dear old friend.

“Miss Marinette, it is a pleasure as always to see you.” Alfred gave her a curt bow.

“I suppose Mr. Wayne will not be joining Dick for the evening?” I expected there to be some annoyance in her voice—after all she had spent an hour talking to me—but she sounded as sweet as ever.

Her referring to him as Mr. Wayne and not Bruce told me that it was likely not a personal call and I had therefore prevented her from taking care of business. A layer of guilt replaced a little bit of the happiness I’d been feeling.

“No, Miss. I’m afraid Master Bruce has stepped out for the evening to deal with some investors. I would have called him, but I assumed that there were far more critical and time sensitive issues to be dealt with first.”

“Quite right as always, Alfred.” She sighed heavily, “I’m afraid I have to go Dick. I promised to get these papers to Mr. Fraser as soon as possible. Seeing as Mr. Wayne is otherwise detained, he’ll just have to accept my version of events.”

Marinette hadn’t even left, and I felt the loss. She was a reprieve from the loneliness that was about to return, and I didn’t know when—or even if—I would see her again.

She stood to leave and had a brief conversation with Alfred that was too low for me to be able to hear. Alfred nodded his head, shocking me when he smiled, “of course, Miss.”

Turning towards me, I hoped that I didn’t look at her too desperately, but I truly didn’t want her to leave.

“I walked into the manor thinking I was going to have to spend the evening listening to Mr. Wayne drone on about facts and figures. Thank heavens for you Dick, my dreary Friday night was saved.”

I snorted to try and save the chuckle that escaped due to her little hit at Mr. Wayne. I knew it was a joke, but I did not want to be caught laughing at my guardian.

Her eyes twinkled at the success of her words. “I really enjoyed getting to meet you and hope you don’t mind if we hang out again some time, maybe tomorrow?”

I nodded my head as tears once more welled in my eyes. It felt like the door to my cell opened and while the manor might still be my prison, at least I no longer felt alone.

“Perfect, do you have a cellphone?”

I pulled out the phone my parents had bought me just last year. It would likely stop working at the end of the month as there was no one to pay the bill, but it was all I had.

She took it from my outstretched hand and plugged in some numbers. “That’s my personal line, if you need anything day or night, someone to talk to, whatever, don’t hesitate to call me. I promise to answer.”

I smiled—which she returned—as words failed me. She nodded at Alfred and left the room as she entered, gracefully.

I instantly looked down at my phone and the number she had put in. I carefully saved it under a new contact, afraid that I might accidently erase my new lifeline during the transfer. I typed in her name but found myself erasing several of the letters, leaving only Mari.

While her name would not be spelled the same way as my mom’s, their names would be the same because I knew in my heart, Mari, would come to hold a similar place.

Chapter Text

Looking out into the city night beside me stood Batman. A menacing figure draping the shadows of Gotham, looking for individuals who wished to harm his city. It might be filled with people that would resort to all foul forms of human behavior in the name of money and power, but Batman promised to protect those who were innocent and give justice to those in need of a good helping.

I kept checking beside me to look at the way the man I idolized rested against the dark backdrop. He stood poised with one foot slightly in front of the other, his hands on his hips thrusting his broad chest upward in the way I’d seen Superman do in some of the posters I used to have. The difference being that while Superman smiled and looked up to the sky, Batman looked down unto the city with a scowl firmly placed. If disgust and determination could be melded together to form an expression, Batman’s lower half perfectly captured it. He looked out at the city as if he had his own x-ray vision that could see all the rift-raft within and had four different plans at the ready to deal with them.

Beside him, I attempted to discreetly adjust my own pose in hopes of mimicking his, but for some reason I felt I wasn’t getting the chest right. I kept adjusting my shoulders hoping that they would settle in a way that was natural but intimidating. Sadly, I knew to an outside observer I looked like I was doing the chicken dance instead of standing gracefully as my namesake would imply.

I caught him looking over at me and paused immediately in the position I landed, which was unfortunate as my head was raised unnaturally high and my shoulders had been curved in. My exaggerated model’s poise belonged on the runways of New York, nowhere near the crime ridden streets of Gotham.

Batman didn’t comment on my embarrassing performance and merely looked back into the alley. No doubt, regretting the day he finally let me in on his little secret.

Bruce admitted that he took me in because of a misplaced guilt in being unable to stop my parent’s murderer and hoped that one day he could rectify his inaction. Where I thought he must certainly regret this life choice, the chandelier incident had in fact sparked the idea that I might be able to assist him. Inspiring him to finally approach me about Batman and becoming his crime fighting partner.

All secrets laid out and a goal we were moving toward together, conversations over dinner were something to look forward to. Apparently hiding the secret of his nighttime activities from someone he was living with had been an adjustment. Worried that he would spill the beans, he kept quiet during those first two weeks. To his detriment and mine.

Bruce now offered me a purpose. Something to focus on aside from my grief, in much the same way Batman had done for Bruce. Thanks to Batman I had a way to give my parents’ memory justice and their murderer his at the same time. Allowing me to move forward with my life, while remembering my parents and not dwelling on the negative just like Mari said.

And just like Mari believed, doing it with the help of Batman.

For four months I let myself believe while training that as soon as Batman gave me the green light, I would rise to the occasion and be the partner that he needed and deserved. This week was meant to get acquainted with the city; observe and learn what it meant to be a vigilante, before I jumped in with both feet. 

Last night, I’d been so proud to carry on my parents’ legacy as I wore our colors for the first time out on the rooftops. Introduced to the city of Gotham as Robin, Batman’s crime fighting sidekick. Only, as I’d watched Batman take on his first set of criminals from the safety of the roof, I couldn’t help but think I was in over my head.

In a single fight the mirage I’d created was shattered. I felt like a sham as I watched Batman fight three men at the same time. All the while, standing on the roof grateful that it wasn’t me.

Tonight was going no better. I’d decided that mimicking would improve my confidence. Looking the part would let me become the part. Yet here I was trying to imitate the man and instead I looked like one of those cakes from ‘Nailed It,’ in comparison.  

There was no way I was going to be able to defend myself against the type of men that Batman encountered. Sure, I had a suit enhanced with the latest and greatest from Wayne Enterprises, but a suit didn’t make the man. I was fitter than most boys my age and even most men, but I wasn’t years of finely tuned muscles. My skills were unmatched on a trapeze, but I was nothing more than a novice when it came to combat.

“Stay here and watch, this will be a great lesson,” Batman interrupted my internal monologue. “Notice, how there are two more hidden in the shadows, they are obviously there to use the element of surprise against me should I investigate. It is important to remember if I had not noticed them before, always assume their there regardless.”

Berating myself for getting distracted by my self-pity and failing to notice the two men down in the alley approaching, I merely nodded my head. I looked around him to see the two additional men hidden in the shadow, two men I would not have noticed it Batman hadn’t pointed them out.

Their roles were similar to mine, assist with the element of surprise. A role, I hoped Batman realized I was not ready to fulfill.

Just like the night before, Batman jumped into action. The pair he had seen standing in the shadows were the first he engaged. Clearly not expecting to be the Dark Knight’s original targets they were not prepared, and Batman was easily able to restrain them and tie them to a dumpster before he stormed off to engage the others.

Those men having failed to notice their comrades in arms being taken out, were none the wiser when Batman’s fist contacted one of their faces. It was spellbinding to watch Batman move around the two men, aiming to restrain without causing an excess of bodily harm. Far more prepared than their friends the fight was nowhere near as fast, though at no point did the criminals have the upper hand.

I found myself punching the air, trying to predict the hits I might take if I were in the situation. I ducked when Batman ducked, I jabbed when Batman jabbed, I dodged when Batman took a hit. A false confidence began to grow, and I couldn’t help myself, finally smiling as I imagined being in the thick of it.  

“Now, what is a little bird like you doing out this late?”

A voice spoke into my ear, shocking me and causing my left hook to fly at the unsuspecting intruder. Of course, unsuspecting more accurately described me and the woman—as I came to realize—caught my throw and used my momentum to toss me over her shoulder.

I swear I saw birds floating around my head in a way that matched a Saturday morning cartoon. The imagery aided by her next words, “tweet, tweet,” which she spoke as she suppressed a smile looking down upon me.

She held her hand out and I begrudgingly took it as she helped me up. Helped was an understatement, I doubt I had any part in returning to my feet as the woman had lifted me with a strength I’m not even sure Batman possessed.

I stared at her with my mouth open which caused her to simply smile brightly in return. She wore a very simple jumpsuit that looked like footed pajama’s that offered her no protection, but she stood in it confidently enough that even I believed she could wear nothing and still defeat an army. She wore a mask to protect her identity which was funny because as I stared at her face, I realized that I was unable to make anything out about it. I knew I was looking at it and that it wasn’t distorted but if I tried to think of the exact shade of her eyes, I drew a blank.

Her face made an expression that I would equate to twiddling of thumbs as I continued to stare. She eventually got bored and broke the awkwardness. “You know when most mother birds throw their babies out of the nest they tend to land on their feet. Yet here you are having landed on your back,” was said in a thick French accent.

“I didn’t realize I was thrown out of a nest, I thought I was thrown over your shoulder.”

“Hmm…minor difference.” She moved away from me to look off the ledge and down where Batman was still engaged.

Standing beside her, I took in her relaxed pose. She stood in much the same way that Batman did with one leg slightly out further than the other and her hands resting on her hips. But where Batman’s pose spoke of intimidation and a world of hurt, this woman’s spoke of confidence and—maybe—a good time.

“Who are you?”

I felt a little rude asking. Like if I was supposed to know she would have already told me. Yet I couldn’t stop my mouth from moving or the reminder in the back of my head at one of Batman’s many lessons.

Never trust an unknown.

Luckily, she didn’t seem to mind, “name’s Ladybug.”

“Ladybug as in the Parisian hero? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders and turned back towards me. “The real question is what are you doing here?”

I looked around in confusion, why wouldn’t she know what she was doing here? Or even what I was doing here. It was obvious after all; I was badly pretending to fight the bad guys that were actually fighting Batman down in the alleyway.

Any real answer I gave her would be too long and couldn’t be said without giving away clues as to who I was.

An answer such as, my being here because my parents died and I wanted justice. Ensure men like Zucco were put in jail so they couldn’t destroy another family. Use the skills that my parents had taught me to do so. I was here because Batman offered me the opportunity to accomplish that goal, just like he used the mask for the justice and memories of his own parents. I was here because Mari suggested that the pain would disappear if I could move past it, focus on the positives of my parents’ memories and live with a purpose that gave them justice.

All of that cumulated into me flying through the air like I once did with my parents. Wearing an outfit of red, yellow, and green in homage of them, with the name Robin, as my mother liked to call me.

I opened my mouth ready to smartly summarize my thoughts but was beat, “I meant what are you doing up here when your partner could use your help?”

I looked at her puzzled before I noticed that her gaze was back down in the alley. Two more men had joined the fray after freeing those left at the dumpster. Putting Batman at more impossible odds and in possible need of some back up.

“We should go help him!” I said in a voice that spoke of both desperation and hysteria.

“Oh, mon oiseau. Only one of us need go and I believe it should be you as his partner.”

“I’m just his sidekick and I’m not any good at that.”

“What is that?”

“Fighting with my hands, on the ground.”

“Oh Robin, no one said that you had to use your hands or even touch the ground. You do what you do best, just go ahead and fly in. I’m sure you’ve seen what a bird is capable of doing from the air.”

“How did you know my name was Robin.”

“After your introduction with Monsieur Gordon, word has gotten around.”

“Oh?!”

“Oui, oh! Now go, Monsieur Batman looks like he could use some help. His outfit might be black, but we do not need him to be black and blue.”

I’ll admit at that minute I might have been somewhat of an idiot. After all, with only a minute of conversation I was following the ‘orders’ of a hero of Paris. Grappling down a five-story building, swinging in to assist Batman when he’d specifically told me to stay out of it this week.

I was trusting that this woman was who she said she was. I’d never seen a close up of her, just what they posted on the internet when the news would report on the happenings in Paris. There was a certain amount of faith placed in the fact that the way my brain scrambled when I tried to place her that there had to be magic involved. So at least she wasn’t someone just dressed up in a cosplay costume.

But she could have just equally been someone with magic, using my lack of knowledge on Ladybug to mimic her identity to lure me to my doom. Though I couldn’t imagine why they’d do it, this was only my second day on the job and as far as I knew I hadn’t done anything to have the baddies hate me—yet.

So, I took that leap of faith and thought mid-descent, ‘I’m an idiot.’ But I was committed, so I aimed my swing so that my feet contacted the goon who was poised to attack Batman from behind. My momentum had the guy flying with me for some distance before he slammed into the brick wall and crumbled into a ball on the ground. I used the same wall he landed against to push back off and swing back into the fight.

In a classic cliché moment as I soared in the air, I swore I could feel the presence of my parents. It was as if I was flying through the air with them once more. Silent encouragement as I prepared to take on my second goon, whispering in my ear when to release the wire so that I landed gracefully on the man in front of me. Bringing him facedown onto the pavement hard enough to knock him out and likely leave some road rash.

Stupidly, I preempted the attack with a ‘whoo-hoo,’ that alerted everyone including Batman of my presence. Meaning as I came out of the roll, I’d done to protect myself during the landing, I came face to face with one of the last men standing. Who seemed intent on paying me back for what I’d done to his work buddies.

There was no question as to what facial expression greeted the man as he smiled at me in a way that told me I looked panicked. Without thinking—which seemed to be the theme of the evening—I pulled my arm back and brought it forward with all my strength. It was a beautiful sight to see the man’s face whip around quickly, leading the way for his body to follow closely behind.

I was panting like a dog with my heart in my throat, as I looked down to observe my hand as if it were this amazing weapon that had a strength that matched Superman’s.

I pulled it behind my back as if to hide it when I noticed Batman now staring at me as all of the goons had been confined by zip ties. I looked to the ground feeling like a dog who’d been found out by his owner for having destroyed their expensive throw pillows. I was just about as guilty having disregarded a direct order from Batman and choosing to listen to someone I literally just met.

I mentally prepared myself for a lecture that would be equal to the one I’d expected after destroying what I now knew to be a fifty-thousand-dollar antique chandelier.

“Thank you.”

My head snapped up shaking in shock. Had he just thanked me for doing exactly what I was told not to. My parents had always been kind and understanding when I did something wrong, but they never thanked me for it.

I guess I really needed to give Bruce a little room to mess up, I was the first child/teenager who he had to raise. Hopefully, if there were ever anymore, I would make sure he understood that when they do wrong you don’t thank them for the behavior, that tends to lead them to doing it again. You probably shouldn’t yell, but a firm ‘you shouldn’t do that again. Next time you could be hurt,’ would be better.

“Always expect someone waiting in the wings. When dealing with the criminals of Gotham there is always another one that can come and replace the first. I think we both learned that tonight, twice over.”

I just nodded my head still shocked that he wasn’t berating me. Again.

“You jumped in when I needed you, you followed my order until you knew it was no longer for the best. That right there will keep us both on the streets and out of the morgue.”

I was about to respond but I was distracted by Ladybug flying down from the roof with some impressive wire work, landing behind Batman. She was an angel descending from the heavens, more graceful and skilled—I hated to admit—than even my mother was.

“I told you, you could fly mon oiseau.”

I watched as Batman turned to swing at Ladybug, she dodged him beautifully, taking the arm that zoomed past her and locking it behind his back. He struggled against her hold, yet Ladybug didn’t even break a sweat as his arm refused to budge.

I’d never seen a woman have such a hold on him. Well, no woman except for Mari, but she did so with her words and not her body.

“Monsieur Batman, I would think you would check to see who speaks before you take a swing. I never thought you to be a swing first ask questions later kind of vigilante.”

“You would be correct, Ms.—"

“Oh,” she placed her hand to her forehead, releasing her hold of him and collapsed her back just slightly before righting herself. “You wound me Monsieur Batman. I thought the World’s Greatest Detective would recognize me immediately. It hurts that I am not on your radar, after all I’ve been a hero for even longer than you.”

She smirked at her dig, like she’d won a point on an imaginary tally. I wasn’t sure why she was doing it, but I was kind of living for it.

“C’est la vie. I guess since I defeated my villains and they are both permanently in jail with no chance of escaping, I have kept a much quieter profile. Must explain it.” She nodded her head as if agreeing with her own assessment.

Point two for Ladybug, zero for Batman.

“Ladybug.”

“Ah so you do know me. How rude. Here I was rambling on, feeling sorry for myself. I know I am not as renown as Monsier Batman, but I do have a couple of fan clubs."

Again, I’d never seen Batman lost for words, I mean I knew he rarely spoke as Batman, but he’d always speak when the occasion called for it—that was my experience at least.

Biting my lip in an attempt to keep from smiling, I enjoyed yet another occasion of 'awkward Wayne.'

Mr. Wayne never looked uncomfortable, always confident as Batman and cocky as Bruce. That was unless he was talking to Mari. As she started coming around the manor more for purposes outside of her duties as his PA, he seemed to turn into a teenager who had no clue how to interact with the opposite sex.

Just last week Mari came over for our weekly movie night—Bruce had a home theater installed in one of the rooms after the second time she strong armed him into watching a movie with us— and she somehow managed to trip over a cord she’d missed every time prior.

She’d been promised a meeting with the floor, but Bruce had been right there to prevent it. Only, embarrassingly, his hands stopped her by grabbing and—if Mari’s facial reaction was anything to go on—managing to squeeze a very intimate part of her body.  

Then the typically smooth Bruce opened his mouth with the now infamous line of, “boobs.”

I was shocked when it wasn’t me that snorted but Alfred from the theater entryway. Mari proceeded to turn bright red—a color that had started to grace her cheeks more frequently as of late—before she cringed and shook off her blush to reply, “yes! These are boobs Bruce. I believe you might have become acquainted with a pair or two before now.”

The expression Bruce had that night was only slightly redder than Batman’s current one.

“I’m just kidding Monsieur Batman. I thought the Justice League was just a little more aware of me than I guess they are. I have been trying to keep my activities a little less on the radar as of late. I guess I’ve been more successful than I thought.”

Shaking out of his stupor, I was surprised that Batman was able to form a complete sentence. “Of course, Ladybug. The Justice League is well informed of your movements, I just thought you were out in Tibet.”

“Oui, but that was last week and this week I am here.”

“Might I inquire why?”

“I go where I am needed, and I heard that you have gotten yourself a little bird. Naturally I had to come and check him out for myself, as you must know I have a soft spot for animal themed heroes. I must say that you have a very impressive partner, I was awed at the way he flew. I think he will do great things in the future.”

I felt myself preen at her complement. It was amazing to have someone approve of me already, especially an established hero. Someone who saw me as a partner that could stand beside Batman.

“No one knew about him till last night?”

“I am magic Batman. I hear things and can get around very quickly when needed.”

The sound of Gotham’s men in blue prevented Batman from inquiring more, but I’d learned his facial expressions over the last few months to know he wasn’t finished.

Both Batman and Ladybug turned to greet the lead officer who’d stepped out of the first patrol car. I noticed each posed in their signature stance and I instantly tried to manipulate my body to mimic something that reflected both.

Ladybug noticed me doing so and chuckled beside me before tutting my efforts. “Non, non, Robin. Do not try to be a Batman or a Ladybug, just be Robin. How does Robin stand?”

As I tried to think of just how a robin would perch, I turned my body so that it was facing forward once more. My arms came to rest naturally by my side slightly pulled from my body with my fist clinched.

Batman’s eyes remained on the cops, but Ladybug nodded her approval. “Great for intimidation and screaming confidence, I love it. But relax a little, you’re dealing with the cops. One shouldn’t try to intimidate them too much when you’re looking for cooperation.”

I couldn’t help the image of how soldiers would stand ‘at ease’ and separated my legs a little more. But the idea of placing my hands behind my back seemed to do the opposite of looking relaxed. So, I went with the typical stance of my fellow sixteen-year-old and crossed my arms across my chest. Not quite nailing the relaxed, but hoping I looked like I could kick butt if needed but only beside the men approaching us, never against.

Ladybug smiled again, “perfect.”

The police gathered the six men from where they’d been left around the alley. Ladybug and I stood off to the side to let them work, while Batman stood at the forefront threatening the criminals should they try to break away. Which was an interesting choice since the day previous he’d had us slip into the shadows once the cops had arrived after giving a very brief summarization of the crimes.

His upfront orchestration of these criminals was very professional, and he was an imposing figure among the cops giving an air of ‘look what I did so don’t do it again.’ But it wasn’t his usual MO.

Which Ladybug seemed to also pick up as she tried not to laugh at him. “Perhaps we should go and help Batman make sure that the six police are able to arrest the restrained criminals?”

Moving without my answer she made her way over when one such criminal stuck his foot out, causing her to fall comically forward into the waiting arms of Batman. As seen in one of the annoyingly corny romance movies, he flipped her to her back within his arms, landing them both in the ‘kissing sailor’ pose minus the kiss.

I swallowed thickly from a discomfort that I couldn’t quite name.

“My hero,” Ladybug cooed, her eyes still locked with Batman’s white lenses, neither looking away despite their audience.

“Vigilante,” he whispered as if the title was as far from what he wanted her to call him at that moment.

She raised her head slightly closer to his. “Not from where I’m standing.”

I finally picked up on what was causing my discomfort as Batman’s head moved to close the little distance between them.  

No, no this could not be happening. Bruce swore that his playboy persona was to protect his identity. He allowed the rumors to run rampant so that he could use it as an excuse when others were unable to find him while he worked for justice behind closed doors. Going as far as to create situations where those who worked for him would find him in compromised positions that never escalated as far as they suggested, only to perpetuate these assumptions.

Bruce had sworn when I pushed that he was past doing all that. At almost thirty he didn’t need that kind of reputation following him into the business, that he worked harder now to balance it all without ruining how people perceived him.

Personally, I thought it was because of Mari. Without him saying, I’d read the hidden message. He didn’t want the false persona to blacken Mari’s opinion of him and maybe a chance he had yet to take.

Yet here he was playing the Brucie persona perfectly in his Batman costume. And from what I could tell Ladybug was falling for it.

No.

Just no.

Ladybug was nice, awesome even. I couldn’t be any more grateful for her giving me the push out of the nest.

But, if anyone was going to date Batman, Bruce or even Brucie it had to be Mari.

Chapter Text

“Top Gun is from around the time you were born. Right?” My smile was innocent with an edge of teasing. I knew for a fact that she wasn’t that old, but a taunted Marinette, was a sassy Mari.

As expected, she looked at me like she would take away my favorite toy if I didn’t watch my mouth—which fortunately without access to the Batcave she couldn’t do.

“When do you think I was born?”

My smile grew knowing that I’d successfully lured her into a fun round of verbal sparring. Now if only Bruce would join the real entertainment could begin.

“Come on Mari, how old are you?”

“Haven’t you been told not to ask a woman her age?”

The start of a smile was struggling to not appear as I tried to keep my gaze judgmentally on her. “I thought that only applied when a woman had something to hide.” A false accusation was willed to the tip of my tongue as I surveyed her looking to pick up a deceit that I knew wasn’t there. When she refused to flinch and I had nothing to retort, my act had to shift. Choosing an appearance of innocence resulted in her eyes narrowing and the feeling that my new escrima sticks may now legitimately be in danger. “I was just curious. Bruce just turned 30 so I was just wondering how much older than him you were.”

A hand playfully slapped me on the back of my head, its owner trying her best to look offended with her hands placed on her hips trying to create an image of intimidation, but the laughing lines were still present around her eyes giving her away. “Hey, I’ll have you know I am younger than Bruce.”

“Like a lot younger, or close enough that the difference isn’t that big of a deal?” My voice was trying to maintain an air of indifference, but the expression on her face told me it was failing.

“Why are you so curious? Does it matter if I am as old as Bruce or a whole lot younger? What does that have to do with what movie we’re going to watch?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I tried to continue playing it off as casual curiosity, though I was certain my ruse was up. “Just trying to figure out which decade of movies you’re most familiar with?”

Reality, like the detective I was slowly becoming thanks to Batman, I was trying to figure out why Bruce and Marinette weren’t dating already. They could both lie to themselves, but they weren’t fooling anyone else about their attraction or just how perfectly they complemented each other.  

After the secrets of Batman were exposed nights were so sterile, almost clinical, as they were devoted to detective work and patrols. Then Marinette decided from our phone calls that everything was not alright at the manor, and she needed to insert her form of fun more often. The changed should not have been so drastic, so quick, or so obvious to someone who’d been living in the manor for less than a year. Yet, somehow Marinette had changed the four walls of the manor to become less of a mausoleum and more of a home.

Duty to the cowl was no longer the sole focus of Bruce, instead it was making sure that he was an active participant in what I coined as ‘family.’ Where ‘work’ used to drive Bruce to the cave—because a minute’s delay could cost the case or prevent him from finding trouble—suddenly more and more work could wait another day. Movie nights were now a weekly occurrence on Tuesdays when the Bats focused on a different screen for hours on end. Dinners were no longer a solitary affair, as Marinette would fill in when Bruce had ‘work,’ and often came even when he didn’t.

If all that wasn’t a sign that they wanted to be in each other’s presence past working hours, not sure what would constitute.  

With her increased presence, Marinette worked wonders within the manor. She was caring, loving and supportive even if she didn’t know about our dangerous nightly activities. The first time I had been injured on patrol she came to dinner the following night and instantly noticed me favoring my right arm. Luckily, she’d seen me do some of my stunts on the new and improved foyer chandelier, so she’d believed my on-the-spot excuse without question. The care she gave me after made me feel five hundred times better than even the professional medical attention Alfred had given me. There was just something about the way she loved—like a big sister—that healed the heart and apparently arm too.

Aside from the heart and body she might even be responsible for starting to heal Bruce’s soul as well. While Batman was a successful outlet for him to process his parents’ death, it had left him emotionally stunted. Even at only seventeen I was able to see that. Since Marinette had started to hang out at the manor after work, I dared to say she somehow created emotions inside Bruce. There was now a funny side—or what I liked to call old man humor which meant funny only to him—a physically affectionate side and a carefree side that laughed unabashed.

No doubt it was a lot of work for Marinette, but from their interactions she didn’t appear to have an issue doing it and seemed to take enjoyment from it as well.

Naïvely confident they would get together only after a couple months; we were now eight months in with no sign of them becoming an item aside from the obvious chemistry and sickeningly, incessant, bad flirting.

Hence why I was still trying to determine just why they were trapped in this endless loop. My first theory was about their working relationship. After all, most personal assistance didn’t want to get in a relationship with their boss so that people wouldn’t question their competence or intentions. But if that were the problem, she surely wouldn’t spend a good portion of her free time with the boss and his ward at their personal home, as it could very well have the same result.

The playboy persona could have been another cause of tension, but Bruce had given that part of his life up. Not that it had been real to begin. He’d created the playboy persona to protect his identity. People just assumed he was with a woman when he wasn’t around, hiding his disappearances from the office. He’d been seen wining and dining women enough that people didn’t ask where he was because most didn’t really want to know. The woman would be allowed to spread whatever they wanted about what happened after dinner—usually to protect their own feelings at being ditched—with no recourse from Bruce despite the hits on his reputation.

I’d thought the information too much detail to share with me, but I suspect he wanted me to know so I could relay it to Marinette. Not that I imagine it would come up in one of our conversations or that I’d be able to be like ‘hey he’s actually Batman and not a playboy.’ But sure, if I ever got the chance…

Either way, Marinette had to be aware as there had been several articles expressing their disappointment in the new and matured Brucie Wayne. Only Ladybug would be able to counter Brucie’s official disappearance, as despite my displeasure with the fact, Batman continued to awkwardly flirt with the spotted hero. Fortunately, Marinette wasn’t Ladybug and definitely didn’t know that Bruce was Batman. Therefore, it was easy to conclude that Brucie was no longer an issue that prevented them from forming a relationship.

Unfortunately thought, Ladybug could be a factor for Bruce not pursuing a relationship. Batman would come off patrols when we’d manage to run into her and sing praise about both her banter and skills. She was admittedly great and if Marinette didn’t exist, I might ship. But she didn’t seem like the type that would give up her identity so she could have a civilian relationship. Not to mention she wasn’t local to Gotham, we’d followed her exploits, she was all over the world constantly. Not someone you could probably keep a steady relationship with. I saw it and I’m sure Bruce saw it too. So logically, I was confident he wouldn’t stop a potential relationship with Marinette from forming because of a little infatuation with a spotted hero.

Leaving me only with the age gap as a possibility. Bruce’s age was well publicized, but Marinette wasn’t so forthcoming with the information. Her birthday celebration had conveniently left out candles or any other age identifying tradition. Asking—as one could see—was going just as well.

“Not really sure how my age would tell you what movies I’m interested in…but sure.” The look she gave me told me to explain my inquiry or stop it.

Pouting my grip on the remote loosened and she used the opportunity to take it from my hand. With a little victory dance, she pointed the remote at the theater sized screen, scrolling through its many offerings. Her nose scrunched up with every choice she was displeased with before she found one that had her wiggling excitedly in her cushion.

“How about Die Hard?”

A few short months ago I might have stopped the taunting as Mari asked and quietly licked my wounds in the corner, but the circumstances reminded me of lesson 32 from Being a Hero 101 taught by professor Ladybug. One should never stop just because the enemy tells you to, in fact, it is when the enemy warns you to stop that you look them in the eye and show them just how hard you’re going to fight them instead.

“Is that one from when you were younger?”

“Maybe we should put on Coco, it would be more appropriate for someone your age.” Putting her hands on the side of my cheeks she squeezed them together. The joy in her face usually would have had me smiling back, but instead I chose my best unimpressed expression. Like I knew where all the kitchen knives were—I didn’t, seeing as I was banned—and wouldn’t be afraid to use them if she pushed.

Instead of releasing my cheeks she continued to awkwardly rub them together and mutter simple sentences to me like I was a wee babe. When my eyes finally rolled and relented to her treatment, she finally released me.

Like I’d just received a left hook to my cheek I rubbed them exaggeratedly, ensuring they looked a little red so she might feel a little guilty. My eyes were screaming promised retribution, unfortunately, she looked right back at me unaffected by both acts.

“I love Coco and will happily admit that I tear up at the end. And I know for a fact you were crying the last time you suggested we watch it. So don’t you dare insult it by suggesting it’s only for kids…Nice try deflecting though. Was I close?”

“I apologize—and no I still wasn’t born yet. So, Die Hard then?”

Admitting temporary defeat—again—I was about to tell her it was fine but was interrupted. “No, we can’t watch it. It’s a Christmas movie.”

Mari’s head whipped around to find Bruce strolling into the room wearing his lounge ware. The way Marinette was currently drinking in Bruce’s appearance proved once again how intense the attraction between them was. She tried not to stare but I noticed before she shook her head, driving some kind of thoughts away, and tried to cover the now cherry color to her cheeks.  The fact that Bruce was wearing grey sweatpants and a maroon long-sleeve shirt that was on the tighter side pointed towards a thought-out ploy hoping for the exact reaction by him. Especially when Bruce paused in a position that would have easily been captured for print.

All of it leading to fingers crossed that tonight was going to be the night that Bruce put on his big boy pants and sat next to Marinette and got the train rolling. All systems were go for a relationship launch, he just needed to press the little red button to engage.

Mission apparently aborted however when he took his usual seat beside me. A seat that might make one feel loved. On my right was Marinette with her legs extended out to the side of the large couch, her side coming to rest lightly against me. Not in that way, but more like a sister would do to her older or in this case younger brother. Bruce on my left sat just as closely with his arm draped over the back of the couch.

The position often made me feel like a third wheel, the awkward Dad placed between two teenagers in love to keep them from doing things I deemed inappropriate—except I hoped they’d do them. Just like those teenagers, my two pseudo-parents seemed to be trying to be just as covert with their subtle behaviors. For Bruce’s position made it so he could absent mindedly twirl a strand of her hair in his fingers as he feigned investment in the movie. Marinette never mentioned it, but I was confident she knew, in fact I was sure her own position was not to get comfortable against me, but to put her head in a position so Bruce could.

Again, pointing to both not being as unreceptive to each other as they would have you believe.

“That is blasphemy, only American’s think like that. Let’s watch it.”

Her fingers hovered over the play button but were unable to press it before Bruce launched himself over me and tried to wrangle the remote from her hands. “No, we only watch it in December. The writer himself confirmed it was a Christmas movie.”

Before I had time to realize I’d reacted, I was glued to the back of the couch to allow a flailing Marinette and Bruce to fall onto the floor as they ‘playfully’ attempted to get the remote from the other.

“It’s Dick’s call not yours! You’re only a welcomed guest to our movie nights.”

The remote began to shift between their bodies as one pulled it away from the other. Like a spectator to a boxing match, I sat at the edge of my seat and wished Alfred had brought the popcorn earlier so I could be shoveling it into my mouth.

Even though I knew it was play—or at least I hoped—they appeared to be well matched, surprisingly. I was confident that it began with Bruce being a little more lenient and giving a little ground to Marinette, but at some point his face shifted and it became obvious that he was no longer holding back.

“It’s my house and I say that it can only be watched around Christmas.”

In a move that was shocking, especially to Bruce, Marinette launched herself forward with both immense force and an ear-piercing war cry. “Sorry Mr. Wayne, but if it’s a Christmas movie why don’t all the sequels take place during Christmas too?” 

Had this been an animated movie my hands would have been near my mouth as my nails were chipped away like a cob of corn as I awaited the result of her attack.

In the end a much smaller Marinette had taken Bruce down onto the floor completely flayed out and was currently straddling him. As wrong as it was, I was completely invested now and hoping that their playing might lead to something that would require my immediate departure from the room.

As of now, I only remained so far to ensure that Bruce didn’t revert back to sixteen-year-old Brucie and would need my help getting out of his own way. For a man who’d been able to get multiple women to have dinner with him by simply smiling, he failed monumentally in trying to string two words together if Mari showed any signs of being flirtatious with him.

I'm not well versed in love, flirting, or relationships, but I suspected it had something to do with the fact he'd never had to go past the flirting stage and was scared about wanting a relationship. Big picture scared about what it would mean to give someone his all—including Batman—when he couldn't be sure it was forever but wanting it to be. Currently scared that his usual flirting techniques would have Marinette think herself just another one of his 'conquest,' and not the woman he really wants or needs. Both resulting in this awkward flirting interactions instead that didn't seem to flirt around the final destination. That's where I came in, giving subtle push and help as needed. 

“Don’t Mr. Wayne me. It’s Bruce when we’re not in the office Marinette.”

At this point in their fight Bruce had gotten the upper hand with both the remote and Marinette beneath him. They were both breathing heavily with a quick rise and fall of their chest. Who needed a movie when the best action scenes and romance were finally playing out in front of you?

“Yes, sir," was said airlessly breathed from Mari.

We were inching closer and closer to the point in the evening that I should have quietly excused myself, especially as they both seemed to move as if magnets were pulling them together by their lips. Bruce's head lowered slightly, hesitating only to give her time to move away if she was not receptive to his aim. From where I was, it looked as if her eyes were locked with his and she had no intention of moving until he completed the act.

Only, “how old are you Master Bruce?”

A screech escaped my lips, shocking the pair more than the words, causing them to spring apart like one of their magnets had suddenly reversed polarity. Never in the eight months I’d lived in the Wayne Manor had I wanted to do anything negative towards Alfred. He was easily one of the best people I knew, the Grandfather I never had, but at that moment I was contemplating murder.

Bruce quickly turned away from Marinette acting as if nothing had transpired—though his face told a completely different story—and returned to the couch sans remote. Marinette followed suit, straightening her outfit with slightly trembling fingers, clearly using the second to recompose herself from the embarrassment of getting caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Which was not the case, she should be doing it, they should be. Maybe not out in front of me, but I would have left when it came down to it.

While murder wasn’t an option—today—I glared at Alfred so that he knew it was something I was contemplating as he came to give myself and Marinette our requested popcorn. Either he didn’t see my expression, or he chose to ignore it, acting as if nothing had occurred. There would be a conversation later in the evening where I’d give him a piece of my mind and make sure that from this point forward we were moving towards a similar cause. For now, I had a movie and more attempts at getting the pair together to focus on.

Marinette settled with Live Free Die Hard to rub in Bruce’s face, knowing he couldn’t argue it as being a Christmas movie, while staying in the Die Hard family. As the opening scene began, Bruce reached across me and my bowl of popcorn to take a handful from Marinette’s which rested in her lap. With cat like reflexes, she swatted at his hand before he could even get a single kernel. “Get your own popcorn.”

“That is my popcorn. I paid for it.” Bruce rubbed his hand as if it stung, playing the sympathy card. Knowing though Marinette wasn’t an idiot and that his act would only cause her to double down on her defense of the popcorn.

“Fine, I’ll leave you two dollars on the counter before I leave.” Marinette took the largest handful of popcorn and shoved it into her mouth. For others the act would seem undignified as she struggled for the first few seconds to close her mouth around the large pile. Yet, this was Marinette, so the act was adorable, her chipmunk cheeks were proudly on display as she closed her eyes as if saying that the popcorn was the best food she’d ever consumed.

“It’ll cost you more than two dollars.” Bruce was smiling at Marinette with hungry eyes, there was no chance that she didn’t understand his meaning.

It was confirmed when she rolled her eyes at him with a coy smile. “What is this; a movie theater?”

“No this is a monopoly, where you can only purchase popcorn from me. So, I get to set the prices.”

Bruce went to grab another handful from her bowl but once again she swatted his hand away. Their new game had begun, and I was vested—human train wrecks were a good form of entertainment after all. It was a very interesting choice for flirting but it looked like it was working, and I didn’t even need to set it up. Perhaps Alfred wouldn't die tonight.

“What’s the price then.” There was a level of breathlessness in Marinette’s inquiry. A clear desire in her voice for a specific answer.

A handful of popcorn went into my mouth, my eyes glued to the television as if captivated by the scene, when the reality was I had no clue what I was looking at. My ears however and my body were attuned to the action occurring on both sides of me. Months of dancing around each other would finally result in something. The tension between the two was palatable, more so than even the popcorn. Being placed between the two in this, their moment, was uncomfortable. Yet, I feared any movement other than expected ones that placed my attention firmly on the movie would break the spell. I refused to do that and so I stayed despite putting myself at risk of being attacked once more when they finally gave into the magnetism between them. As with every night when I placed on my Robin suit, it was a risk I was willing to bare.

In my head I screamed the obvious ‘say kiss say kiss,’ to be Bruce’s answer. Anything less…

The chant in my head had my hands fisted in my lap ready to start hitting the air to punctuate the need for Bruce to not mess this up or be ready to swing if he did. The room suddenly seemed to lack oxygen as I held my breath, Marinette doing the same beside me, both waiting for Bruce to name his price.

When Bruce’s body seemed to deflate and the tension in the room snapped, it became obvious that he was going to once again chicken out. “Share. All you have to do is share.”

Never in recent times had a single word caused all of the gods to scream out in disappointment at one of their creations. As their cries were impossible to be heard by mortal ears, my own became their voice when I screamed out, “noooo,” obliterating any possible moment between them.

Fortunately, the scene in the movie was able to explain my outburst, but I wondered if they knew it was caused by my disappointment. Marinette seemed to share my sentiment and possibly understood my reaction when she placed her head on my shoulder in a way that both offered comfort and sought it. No way would she feel it necessary if she believed it to be caused by the movie.

As the movie continued to play, everyone’s attention fell on it. Yet, it was easy to tell that while our eyes were on the current car chase, our minds were as far away as possible.

A new distance settled between Marinette and Bruce, these lost opportunities were not only killing them, but me as well.

Chapter Text

Every car that was included in a fourteen-year-olds wet dream was in this garage. The amount of money staring at me would have covered all of my expenses till the end of my days—considering the life expectancy of a street kid—if I pawned only the wheels.

At the moment I wouldn’t have to consider doing that. I was no longer a street kid, but a ward of the billionaire Bruce Wayne. For how long was still to be seen, which might have been the reason I was casing the garage, just taking a casual inventory for when the time came. My final act for Batman’s generosity would be to leave as I came, but instead of trying to steal the rims of the Batmobile, I would steal from the insured collection from in here instead.

It’s not that I was ungrateful for Batman—who turned out to be Bruce Wayne—taking me in. Of course, I was. I had a roof over my head, a butler to help with every need, food aplenty, a place to shower, warmth, and school again. But I knew it was temporary. Bruce took me in because he felt a misplaced guilt, but like all guilt that adults tended to feel, it would disappear as soon as the cause of it became an inconvenience. A burden as it would be in my case. At that point, I’ll be back where I started. It’d happened countless times before, I knew the score.

This time I was prepared for it and wouldn’t allow myself to fall into the false sense of security Mr. Wayne promised me. I knew he had Dick for a year now, but he was in his senior year and would be turning eighteen soon. The obligations Bruce had would end then and Dick would be a free agent, not much of a commitment if you asked me. At fourteen, there were four years of school before I turned legal; that was a lot of time to mess up. And like every adult in my life had told me before, I was destined to do just that.

My father loved to remind me I was a mistake and take it out on my mother. My mother on the other hand preferred to dope-up instead of deal with me. Every adult I passed on the street looked at me like I was trash. Bruce would be no different, eventually.

In fact, I would give it less than a year before me and Mr. Wayne parted ways. I might be a street kid who can count the number of years of formal education on a single hand but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t smart. Countless winter days—which in Gotham was basically all year—were spent reading everything I could get my hands on in the library till it closed for the evening. After that, the local community center would host seminars and support group meetings, all while an eight-year-old would hide out wherever my small body could fit to listen in. Add all that to the smarts you just get from surviving on the street, and I’d survived a very long time, you get a very smart kid.

A level of intelligence that people wished for. That intelligence told me that even the morally just Batman, would tire and drop me back on the streets before long. Or something worse since I now knew all his secrets.

There was a time I thought Batman was smart, I mean he figured out a lot of the intricacies of Gotham mob networks and villainy. But the fact he just took a kid off the street after that kid tried to steal from him and then spilled all his secrets like a piñata spilled candy. Sheesh. Only I hadn’t wacked him with a stick, he’d done it without any probing. Wasn’t sure how the whole city didn’t know that Bruce Wayne was Batman. Maybe it was the worst kept secret that no one wanted to address because they liked the status quo.

“You know all you have to do is ask for some spending money and Bruce will hand you the contents of his wallet without even looking. So, there is no need to pawn the tires.”

“Just making a wish list.”

Dick chuckled and came to stand beside me. “Less than two years till you turn sixteen. Pass the drivers’ test and Bruce will likely let you drive which ever one you want. Minus one, but no one gets to drive the Batmobile but him.”

Scoffing I threw Dick a look that was a little bit of ‘like I’ll be here’ mixed with ‘if I wanted to drive it, Bruce wouldn’t need to let me do anything.’

“Sure.” I said aloud.

The bright smile that I’d come to find just as annoying as the Joker himself, slipped as Dick studied me. My arms came across my chest to act as a shield and a single eyebrow raised to beg Dick to try me. Try me at what, I wasn’t sure, but I knew that look, I’d been judged my whole life. Found unworthy by everyone but myself. I knew what I was worth, and I would never allow someone telling me otherwise to affect me. Not anymore.

“You’re scared this is temporary.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. I tried not to show how much his ability to read me made me uncomfortable.

“Of course, it is.”

“Look, I’m going to be real and straight with you. Mostly cause from what I know it doesn’t sound like there has ever been anyone that sugar coated things for you. So, no point in telling you ‘Oh sugar, it's going to be okay, the very nice man will never throw you out,’ because you’ll see it as a load of bull.”

Dick needed to be given a lot more credit than I’d given him in the last two days. He was too sweet for the world as my first impression had supplied, always appearing to be happy, smiling at everything like he had to supply the sunlight to the city that had none. My arrival at the mansion had been met with ‘a sup dude’ attitude verse the suspicion called for when a kid was literally just picked up off the street. Something surely expected from Batman’s Robin. Yet, maybe he was just way more astute and not as oblivious as his personality would suggest, a cover of sorts.

“So, I’m going to show you how I know Bruce will never drop you back on the streets.”

And all faith and confidence briefly given to Boy Wonder disappeared. I was left no longer questioning how he’d earned the nickname, just curious as to why they shortened it from, ‘Boy I Wonder.’

Moving away, Dick left without checking to see if I followed. Taking a single glance back at the sea of vehicles, I found the one I would want to drive in two years if I could believe Dick that I would still be here.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

A pair of car keys flipping around his pointer finger when he returned drew my attention away. As if he watched me when he’d walked away, he moved right up to the very car I was spying and unlocked the door before opening it.

“I can’t let you drive just yet, but we can at least take it for a spin?”

Why not, I wasn’t doing anything else today.

We drove in silence as the secluded forest which the manor resided turned into the concrete jungle of the city. At that point, Dick’s driving went from a nice country stroll to NASCAR as he weaved in and out of the cars and obstacles like a pro. With the speed and jerky maneuvering, I expected to have to grab the ‘oh shit’ handle a few times, but Dick drove with a finesse that not a single car horn was honked, finger thrown, or accidents caused.

“Did Batman teach you to drive?”

Dick laughed as he quickly spun the wheel so that we turned a corner with the back of the car sliding behind us into one of the nicer streets of Gotham.

“Are you kidding? Bruce drives like an old grandma, ‘hands at 6 and 4, Dick, at all times,” the impression was pretty good, “and Batman doesn’t let anyone drive his car like I said.”

“Alfred was clearly not the one responsible for this.”

“Bruce let Marinette teach me. A decision I think in hindsight he regrets because Mari drives like she’s at the Grand Prix. By the time he realized, I’d already learned all her ‘bad’ habits. Bruce tried to then teach me the ‘correct’ way, but there was no point, Marinette taught me how to do everything safely and legally, just a little more aggressive than normal.”

“Whose Marinette—Mari?”

“She is.” He pointed out the window and my head followed the direction of his finger. A goddess stood before me. If not for her average stature, she was fit to be a supermodel, hanging above the beds of every adolescent male and female.

Marinette approached the car and opened the door for me while Dick helped himself out of the driver side. My eyes were unable to leave her as I stepped out of the car. There was a warmth there but also a steel determination in both her expression and poise. A combination I wasn’t really sure what to make of, like she’d get what she wanted but you’d thank her for it.

“You must be Jason? I’m Marinette,” she said with a little bit of an accent, waving her hand in a friendly greeting.

I nodded, still a little struck by the woman in front of me to say anything in response. Not a family member, but familiar enough for Dick to lift her up into a bear hug. Attire, top of the line based on the material, but I didn’t recognize the design being from one of the high-end shops. A friend that came from money maybe? Her demeanor and the way she held herself was too casual and not someone who thought themselves better as the elite often did.

So, Bruce’s childhood friend from another rich family who rebelled against expectations but still appreciated the finer things in life. Got it!

“Come on in boys. Alfred called after you left and warned me you hadn’t eaten lunch. So, I made pizza.”

Strike that, Bruce’s awesome childhood friend. I loved Alfred’s cooking, it was phenomenal, especially after years of barely eating anything at all. But he didn’t realize that sometimes a teenager wanted something normal and not from a menu that one couldn’t pronounce half the shit. I hadn’t had a pizza, that wasn’t a left-over slice from a cardboard box left in the trash, in years.

On the elevator Marinette and Dick took subtle digs at each other with smiles plastered on their faces. It was entertaining to watch but I didn’t want to interrupt their dynamic. I hadn’t been able to watch the kind of friendly interaction for some time. Sure, street kids tended to stick together, but it was out of a sense of preservation, hope that you’d look after their back and in return they would look after yours. Close connections—such as the one in front of me—were rare, usually reserved for siblings, because alliances were only established as long as someone else couldn’t offer something better. Which for a street kid was often, because one day you could have plenty and the next, nothing at all.

We entered her top floor apartment, and I was floored. The studio was nice but not what I was expecting. A top-of-the-line kitchen mixed with modest furnishings and a design studio that took up a majority of the space. While taking in her space, Marinette had used the time to take the pizzas out of the oven and place them at the kitchen’s breakfast bar. I walked over to join Dick and looked down at what she called ‘pizza.’

Clearing my throat, I tried not to sound accusatory but curious. “What is this?”

Fail.

“Pizza?!” Marinette questioned; Dick snickered.

“Um, not to be the bearer of bad news but this isn’t pizza. Where is the cheese, the thicker crust, and what is this green stuff?”

Dick snorted and some of the water he’d been drinking flew out his nose. Marinette however crossed her arms and scowled down at me. “This is Italian style pizza, the original. Margherita the same way my Italian Nonna taught me. The white stuff is cheese, buffalo mozzarella specifically. Thin crust is different, classic, better than your New York style. And the green stuff is basil.”

Despite the look she was giving me, telling me to try telling her that this pizza could go to the dumpster, the single sided upturn of my lips told her that was exactly where it belonged.

“Why don’t you try it before you knock it.”

Watching Dick knock back his third piece, I lifted the single slice towards my mouth and dug in. The tomato sauce danced in my mouth with the perfect blend of herbs and spices. If any of my favorite authors wrote about food, it would be about this particular pizza because there were so many heavenly words that could be used to describe it.

The entire slice was in my mouth and gone before I opened my eyes again to find Marinette and Dick having matching smiles to my behavior. “I still wouldn’t call it pizza, but I would take this over pizza any day.”

“Thank you. Don’t forget to save room for cookies, they’re fresh from the oven too.”

Rubbing my belly before knocking it to confirm the hollow sound, “As a fourteen-year-old, I always have more room.”

“So, Dick, what brings you here?”

Right to the point, no beating around the bush. I chewed my current bite and swallowed without taking anymore. I still didn’t believe that Bruce wouldn’t throw me out eventually, but Dick had brought me here to Marinette’s to prove otherwise and I still wasn’t sure how she played into this.

“Jason is having a tough time…adjusting.”

If I could have punched Dick at that moment without causing Marinette to have a bad impression of me, I would have. I hated how he made me sound weak. I wasn’t having a challenging time adjusting, I was having a hard time believing that it would last. So, I saw no reason to buy into the whole charade and acting like I did.

“Hmm,” was the only response out of Mari. She didn’t even look at me out of pity which I appreciated. Instead, she moved over to one of the many cabinets below her loft and pulled out a large giftbag.

“This is for you. A present to welcome you to the Wayne family. I was going to wait but maybe you could use them now.”

Tears formed in my eyes, and I worked hard to keep them from falling. It had been too many years since I had last received a present, so many that I couldn’t even remember the number. Yet, here was someone who I’d never met before giving me something. I’d used the term goddess to describe her looks, but I was sure now that it could be used to describe her being.

Each piece of tissue paper was taken tentatively out of the bag, afraid that it was a sick joke, and I would remove them all to find nothing within. When there was nothing more to pull out I stood and looked to find five books stacked neatly on each other. The cover of the first caused one of the tears to stray and I looked up at Marinette with questions I couldn’t voice.

“Yesterday, I came to the manor to get Bruce to sign some papers. I saw you in the library and wanted to say hello, but you were lost in a book. Unfortunately, I needed to leave almost immediately and I really didn’t want a quick first introduction. On the way out I had a conversation with Alfred, and he said that you had questioned him on a couple of books’ whereabouts in the library. I went ahead and grabbed some of the ones that he said were missing.”

Taking out the copy of Jane Eyre, I touched the book as if it were the gospel and gave Marinette a very watery, “thank you. Have you read them?”

“I’m from Paris and our curriculum included the French classics, not so much the English. I loved the movies though. I’ll admit that I might have used my love for the movies to choose from the list Alfred mentioned.”

“Movies don’t do the stories justice.” There was no frame of reference for the comment, but I’d heard the saying a time or two.

“I’m sure, which was why I bought an extra copy of ‘Emma,’ I’d love to compare it to ‘Clueless.’”

“The Gotham Library’s copy wasn’t returned so I never had the chance to read it. And watching movies isn’t really something you can do on the streets.”

There was only a slight shift in her face at my comment, but it wasn’t of sympathy it was almost a little bit of pride—which was weird. I understood sympathy, it was the usual response from people when they heard you were a street kid—that and disgust—I never liked it though because it only lasted as long as you stood in front of them. It only got you a single meal, a spare set of gloves or the spare change in their wallet, never did that carry on to actual help for the street kids. The ones with the money and who could really help, convinced themselves they were helping when they went to one of those fancy fundraisers that cost thousands to put on and the kids only benefited from a quarter of the donations. Donating the cost of the whole affair would mean more money for the kids, but rich people just wanted an excuse to hang out and appear posh all in the name of a good cause.

“We could watch Clueless at our next movie night. But the real question is should we read the book first or watch the movie?”

“Bruce will never agree to a chick flick.” Dick’s tone suggested it wasn’t so much Bruce that wouldn’t agree. “Especially one from so long ago.”

Suddenly there was a look on Dick’s face that I hadn’t seen before nor expected. It told the viewers they were about to be subjected to something that would not be welcomed nor pleasant. Marinette’s eyes in return told Dick to bring it.

“I guess that at your age, you like things that remind you of your childhood.”

“Hardy har har. Come on Dick you’ve been at this for months, why haven’t you looked me up online yet.”

Dick whipped out his phone and from over his shoulder I could see several news articles—mostly in what I figured was French like her accent—populate on the screen. She even had a Wikipedia page though once he clicked on it there were only three sections that were rather small.

“Why had I never thought of this before?” Dick whined out excitedly.

“Because we don’t google friends,” Marinette offered, sipping a cup of coffee I hadn’t seen her produce.

“Mari how come you have a Wikipedia page? I didn’t know Bruce’s PA was worthy of all this.”

A wave of emotions crossed her face, filtered through like she was reliving the memories of the events that earned her those three sections. Memories clearly both happy, sad, and bittersweet. “I told you Dick that I had a different life before I came to Gotham. I wasn’t a big name or anything like that in Paris, but I’d done some things that got media attention.”

“We’re you the rich girl gone wild?” I supplied, working off my first assumption of her. Though her being Bruce’s PA put a small spanner in it. Could be the only job she could get after all her ‘bad’ behavior in Paris, like street drag racing.

Marinette chuckled through her nose. “My parents were bakers; we were comfortable but definitely not rich. I haven’t been on the page since I was eighteen so I’m not sure what’s on there now, but there’s things like when I was fourteen, I designed for the famous rocker Jagged Stone and design his album covers. Who ended up, kind of adopting me when my parents were killed. And I dated a model for a while. Some other things, but like I said nothing huge.”

While Dick scrolled through the article, my fingers found a spec of food stuck on the counter and began to absentmindedly pick at it. I didn’t know how to comment on her parents’ death or the fact that she was adopted. Was that the reason that Dick thought she might be able to convince me that my position in the Wayne household wasn’t temporary, because she had gone through something similar?

“What was it like to be adopted?”

“I wasn’t adopted per say, I had parents and they were wonderful. Jagged is my crazy uncle, family for sure but to the state I was his ward, and he was my guardian for legal purposes. It’s a similar situation to Dick’s.”

“Bruce offered to adopt me, but I couldn’t let him. I have a mother and a father who I got to spend most of my life with. They can never be replaced, and it never felt right to think of Bruce as my father. Doesn’t stop him from being my family though. So legally, I’m his ward and he’s my guardian till I’m eighteen. It’s not as strong as an adoption, but family doesn’t only exist when it can be followed by paper.”

Marinette placed some fresh from the oven cookies in front of us and I used them as an opportunity to collect my thoughts.

“So, he still has the power to get rid of you.”

The shock in both expressions would have been entertaining if not for the topic of the conversation. Dick’s face almost looked like a boy who had been kicked, as he clearly hadn’t entertained the thought, but Marinette’s quickly morphed from shock to understanding.

“Bruce would have adopted Dick like he plans to adopt you, but it was Dick’s choice to not have their relationship formalized in that way.”

My heart jumped in my chest at her words. The possible meaning was too much of a temptation, I refused to believe them out of principle and my safety.

“Bruce isn’t going to adopt the likes of me, I’m just some street kid he met a couple days ago.”

Marinette placed her hand over mine to stop my hands from grinding the granite countertop into dust. She squeezed it once before heading to the front door where a large bag waited, a blue folder coming from its depths. She walked over with a smirk that told me the contents of that folder were related to me. I could guess what might be inside of it, but I couldn’t hope.

“Bruce had me file these the day after you arrived at the manor. It might not be my place—really it’s Bruce’s—but I think you need to see these.”

Opening the blue folder she placed in front of me, the contents were easily identifiable as adoption papers. My name and Mr. Wayne’s present on each with a red stamp on the last with the word approved.

“They were just approved this morning so now you’re just waiting for a court date for them to be official. That is if you want it to be.”

“That fast?” I questioned, knowing that such things were meant to take months and sometime even years before they got to this stage.

“Money,” Marinette shrugged her shoulder in a way that didn’t necessary approve with the method use, but okay with the outcome.

“Why me? There are hundreds of kids on the street.” I wasn’t anyone special, in fact I was the kid that tried to steal Batman’s tires. Why would he choose to adopt a thief out of all the kids that were living on the street? There were too many small innocent children in need of shelter that could use the room I’d been given and be worthy of it too.

“I can’t answer that for him Jason. He hasn’t told me, and it definitely is not my place to tell you if he did. But, from what I’ve learned about Mr. Wayne, in the year I’ve worked for him, he has a way of knowing people even if he’s just met them. Bruce told me you were stealing his tires when he met you.”

Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting Bruce to fess up to that fact or even Marinette, but I guess he’d have to explain how he met a street kid and adopted him.

“Can I ask you why?”

“You can ask, doesn’t mean I have to tell you,” I snapped, more out of habit than anger at her inquiry into my personal life.

There was a smile that met my outburst. “Okay.”

Waiting for her to push more—as most adults did—I was surprised that she went back to sipping her coffee. Dropping the conversation when asked was different, nice even, and telling from Dick’s lack of response it was a normal occurrence with her

“Sorry, it’s an automatic response for when people try to get in my business.”

“I’m not offended Jason. I did ask if I could ask, and you said no. Don’t ever feel like you’re obligated to tell anyone anything, it’s always your right to tell what you want.”

“It’s just when people ask it’s usually so they know how much trouble us street kids should get in. I stole tires to sell them to some shady businesses so I could use the money for food and stuff.”

“Let me guess you think because you’re a thief you’re not worthy of this opportunity to be a part of a family again?”

“I’m not exactly a poster child for a rags to riches story.”

“Aren’t you though. You did what you had to survive when no one else was willing to help you and when the solutions for a fourteen-year-old are rather limited. No one should hold you to a moral standard that as adults, who stood by and did nothing, are unable to hold. I’m going to guess too; you wouldn’t just help yourself either.”

There was no response to give, she knew the answer or else she wouldn’t have made the statement. A large portion of the money I made, often went to the kids that were currently under my protection. I could never stand the thought of kids I know going hungry when I had means to provide. Even if it meant I would go hungry again much sooner.

“Then I think it's pretty clear why ‘you.’ I personally think Bruce hopes that you’ll use the opportunity to better yourself not only for you, but so you can better help others. Just like you did on the streets.

“And because everyone deserves a chance at family, even better when it’s a chosen one.” Dick placed his hand on my shoulder and Marinette followed suit with her hand over mine. It had been a while, but I immediately knew this was my family, they’d chosen me and now I’d choose them.

Not temporarily, no, this time somehow something was telling me it would be permanent.

Chapter Text

Wearing his new Nightwing attire, Dick grappled down five stories onto a building some distance away from the roof I stood on. The way he flew through the air was even more effortless than Batman, making it look like second nature rather than something learned. Watching his movements, I quickly lost confidence that I would be able to mimic either of them. Learning how to swing from buildings on a trapeze felt like inadequate training for the real thing.

Hence, a night out—which was also now starting to seem like an inadequate amount of time—to learn building jumping using real world experience.

To the outside world, I looked down at Nightwing when he finally landed as if the maneuver he’d just pulled could be replicated in my sleep. But the outside appearance I exuded of confidence, not caring, even boredom was a cover for the feelings of ineptitude I harbored inside. While we were still awaiting a court date before I could officially become a son of Bruce Wayne, I was going to debut tomorrow as the next Robin. I should have felt like I finally belonged, that I had a place, and it was permanent. A good part of me knew it was, especially after meeting Pixie. But habit kept a thin layer of self-doubt, telling me that there could be ways for all this to still be temporary. That I could easily be replaced as Robin because I was not worthy.

Unworthy of being Bruce’s son as my temper often led to problems at school. Problems that caused my ‘parent’ to be brought in, ultimately reflecting poorly upon Bruce, and forcing Marinette to feel like she had to come in to clean up my messes.

It was why Marinette earned the nickname Pixie. She was cute and fairy like, blessing those around her with love and warmth, but if you messed with her or hers, she became a little spitfire. A whole lot of wrath in an unassuming package.

Too many times I’d found myself sitting in front of Mr. Anderson certain that my antics or fist had finally ensured my expulsion. Only for Marinette to storm into the office and with a few choice words have me exiting within minutes; the other student punished for their part, and while not completely scot-free for my participation, returning to school the next day.

As appreciative as I was of her efforts, one afternoon I was finally brave enough to inquire about the absence of Bruce. I’m not sure if she was trying to reassure me or not but I quote—

“Bruce was on his way, and I just barely stuck Mr. Crowler on him before I tried to leave. It is getting harder to get someone to run interference to prevent him from coming, because trust me Jayjay, Bruce wants to be here to help get you out of the trouble you don’t deserve to be in. But between you and me, we both know that flirting and trying to charm Mr. Anderson won’t work in your favor. And money, would get you out of trouble but then the school won’t see that they too are accountable for what happened. When you promote an environment that allows bullies to run around without consequences you can’t expect the victims to always stay quiet.”

Admittedly, the one-time Marinette hadn’t been able to keep Bruce away as she had been trapped in a meeting, he had to sign a very large check over to the school and Mark wasn’t held accountable for throwing the first punch—I never start any of the fights, but I can’t help that I finish them, hence why I am always the one to get in trouble.

Uncle Ben would be disappointed in me, I was failing the whole with great power comes great responsibility. At least Spiderman learned from that little talk. Not me, I’ve gotten the lecture—using different words—enough times you would think something would stick.

Nope.

What can I say I’m hardheaded, and in the moment, I don’t hear Bruce’s voice telling me no. I only hear the voice of the newest bully targeting me or someone else. Call them out on it and apparently, they feel like fist need to fly, I just return the gesture. There is a feeling of vindication each time when the victim thanks me for helping them, but according to the admin I’m the street kid predisposed to fighting and the other kids’ rich parents would never raise someone like that.

So, school is just another place where people constantly try to remind me I came from nothing, and I should therefore think I’m nothing. Fortunately, I don’t. I know my value. Just probably not worth enough to be Bruce Wayne’s son or Batman’s sidekick.

I’d taken down a bully or two from the things I’d learned on the streets and the skills Batman and Nightwing had taught me. But I was still just a street kid with limited crime fighting skills replacing the legendary Robin. A Robin, who had in less than a year outgrown the role of sidekick because he was an astounding fighter and flyer. His training before meeting Bruce made Dick a perfect candidate to being his partner, whereas mine made me a perfect candidate for jail.

That reasoning withstanding, I was confident that this first attempt at grappling between buildings was going to lead to me squashed against the side like a bug on a windshield. With a reputation to maintain, my inner thoughts and feelings had to outwardly be ignored, so I fired my grappling hook where I’d seen Nightwing’s disappear without any outward hesitation.

As my feet left the rooftop my mind screamed at my stupidity. My attempt at cockiness meant that I’d jumped without any thought, securing my fate as wall kill. From my comms I could hear as both Nightwing and Batman yelled orders into my ears trying to prevent the inevitable, but my mind shut off as it accepted my fate. The final thought as my eyes became intimate with the steel grooves of my death’s bringer was the question of how much it would hurt and for how long. Would it be the impact or the fall that would kill me?

Before an answer could be found, I was shooting straight up. Not swinging, not gliding but shooting upwards. My mind was reeling from the lack of pain that it took me a second to realize that I had in fact hit something or rather it should be said someone, but not the wall. That someone who happened to look a lot like the female version of Batman if he didn’t have a cape…or was a cat.

As our feet came to rest beside Nightwing and Batman I stood in awe. Catwoman stood beside me, looking as cocky as I’d imagined her.  Why the villain had saved me was a mystery. The how was by a long pole that looked like it belonged to a pole vaulter. Shrinking in size to look more like a collapsible Bo Staff during our descent to the roof. How it did that was the bigger mystery and concerning as Catwoman getting ahold of such technology seemed like it wouldn’t be a good thing.

“Ah, I see Monsieur Batman has gotten himself another little birdie. I shall call you mon oisillon.” Catwoman’s finger grazed my nose with what could only be described as a boop, the act so warm and welcoming it was hard to flinch from the contact as I knew I should.

“Who are you?” Lost in the bizarre behavior of Catwoman, I missed both Batman and Nightwing in their defensive positions, but I did not miss the accusation present in Batman’s tone.

Turning from Batman back to ‘Catwoman,’ my expression probably mimicked a character from a horror movie when they realized they’d overlooked the bad guy. In my case, I hadn’t so much mistaken the bad guy, just mistaken their identity.

Great going Jason!

The knowledge I possessed on Catwoman was limited to action shots of the thief from security cameras. So essentially nonexistent, which made my mishap explainable. The woman in front of me wore a leather catsuit, with a tail and ears just like the villain. That was where the similarities ended. Had I focused on her face I would have known instantly to not confuse the two. Both wore mask, while Catwoman’s was rumored to be technology laced goggles, this woman’s was only meant to hide her face. Yet the eyes before me, hinted at meta and not a human thief. In the darkness of night, they glowed blue as their irises reflected the light like the slitted eyes of a cat.

“Come now Monsieur Batman, surely I have not changed enough that you would not recognize me?”

“Ladybug?”

“Oui, except for as attired I go by Lady Noire. Et vous, monsieur?”

“It’s me Ladybug, Robin,” Nightwing looked seriously confused for a second before he took in his own appearance and cringed. “I guess in this attire I’m going by Nightwing.”

Lady Noire covered her mouth with her clawed hands as if surprised, but her eyes betrayed the truth of her already possessing that knowledge. “Oh, mon oiseau, look at you!”

The cat moved away from me and grabbed Nightwing’s hands with her own. I’d heard of Ladybug and knew she often assisted when needed. Dick thought of her as another hero mentor, which was likely the reason he preened at her attention as she took him in with a face that looked like a proud parent whose baby finally left the roost.

“That must mean that you are now Robin. Oui?” She turned back to me and smiled brightly, the canines in her mouth adding to her cat like features.

Nodding my head, I wasn’t sure how to respond and what to make of the hero. She seemed nice enough and like she cared, but it was such a contrast to Batman’s brooding, I wasn’t sure how they could possibly work together. Probably something along the lines of opposites creating a balance of sorts.

“What happened to Ladybug?” Batman’s curt voice broke the moment. Lady Noire looked at him with a hint of amusement in her eyes, even as they narrowed and her flicking tailed echoed their sentiment.

“I told you, I am Ladybug, but I am using a different miraculous and therefore name.”

Batman came up to Lady Noire, his eyes surveying her costume as I had done not too long ago. “I understand, but why the change? This outfit makes you susceptible to being mistaken for another Gotham regular. Not the good kind.”

The cat hero giggled with a lack of amusement. “My miraculous, the ladybug, requires balance. That comes with her partner miraculous the black cat. Unfortunately, I do not have a partner at the moment and so I must wear both so that I maintain the balance and the universe is appeased. As for anyone mistaking me for her….it would only do her reputation good to be associated with moi and not the other way around if you are referring to Catwoman.”

The tail attached to her suit like a belt began to flicker angerly and her ears upon her head lowered slightly. “Why would anyone think that I was her when she clearly used moi as her inspiration? What a poser. She’s been active for what less than three years; I’ve been at this game for almost fifteen. Lady Noir more actively on and off for at least half of that time. I’m known internationally! Then she is so original with her name, Catwoman. Please…yes, we know you’re a cat and a woman, it is almost as bad as Batman.”

…and she was on a roll. Nightwing came to stand beside me taking a packet of candy from his belt, giving a handful to me before he started popping them in his own mouth.

“At least with you, there is a little bit of a need to explain who or rather what you are. Who chooses a bat as a hero identity when they have absolutely nothing to do with a bat? It’s not like you use echo location. I’ve also seen your first costume, the name very much necessary to know who you were supposed to be. If I’m honest it looked very much like a dollar store Halloween costume.”

“Are you sure that they like each other?” I whispered at Nightwing.

Nightwing offered me another handful of candy which I gladly accepted. “Yea this is their idea of flirting. Plus, when Ladybug starts to rant there’s no stopping her.”

“You don’t say?” Ignoring his further response, I turned back to the action. Hoping I didn’t miss anything major.

“I chose to become Batman because it represents me accepting my greatest fear and using it against my enemies.”

“Wow,” her lips pursed to consider his words, mockingly, "that’s profound.”

“Like you can talk Ladybug, I’ve seen your original costume, I thought onesies were for babies.”

Stomping her foot down like an infant, Lady Noire rounded on Batman. “Unlike someone I know, I was basically an infant when I started out as a hero. You can’t expect a thirteen-year-old to be creative when they have two seconds to come up with a name and I had no choice in my costume, it reflected my inner thirteen-year old’s desires and not my designing abilities.”

At this point in their argument Ladybug and Batman were chest to chest, fingers out and pointing in the direction of the other, aggressively so. Not with a tension grounded in anger but something else.

“You desired a skintight suit? I see that hasn’t changed.” Batman took the opportunity to rack his eyes across Lady Noire’s body. Which she didn’t seem to mind as she angled certain parts to enhance his inspection.

If Dick hadn’t warned me, I would have never believed that Batman was attracted to anyone other than Marinette, but the evidence was clearly before me and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

“Careful Monsieur Batman, one would wonder what you were thinking about a thirteen-year-old to notice it was a skin-tight suit.”

Batman sputtered, sounding like he’d chocked on his tongue, much to the enjoyment of those around him, breaking the tension between the two older heroes.

“Any who, it seems as though you might need some assistance with mon oisillon, his form was excellent, but aim…” Her hand tilted back and forth as if saying so-so.

Instantly, the feeling of unworthiness crept its way back into the depths of my soul. Not even my first day and those around me noticed I was lacking, that I couldn’t pull my weight. It would only be a matter of time before Batman found someone else to become my replacement.

“Your assistance is always appreciated Lady Noire. Nightwing shall we continue?”

Beside me Nightwing took out his grapple gun, moving towards the edge of the building. My head dipped only slightly to show my embarrassment at being called out, not enough to break character.

“Non, Monsieur Batman. I’m sure you and Nightwing are sorely missed by the city tonight. I was thinking that I could help your new Robin myself.”

“That’s not necessary.” The gruff in Batman’s voice almost sounded desperate.

Nightwing stalked from the edge of the building towards Batman quickly, looping his hand through his arm. The act something similar to seeing someone trying to drag their friend away before he did something embarrassing that he would later regret. A move I was becoming familiar with when Dick tried to remove me from getting in trouble at school.

“Come on old man, Robin couldn’t be in better hands. Plus, as you love to remind us, crime doesn’t wait.”

“But—”

“I’ve linked my comm with yours. If you need anything let us know. A bientot.”

Reluctantly, as if every muscle in his body fought the movement, Batman walked away with Nightwing disappearing over the edge of the building. My grapple gun rested in my hands, and I looked at it as if it were the cause of my failure thus far, knowing it wasn’t. But I didn’t want to see the disappointment in Lady Noire’s eyes when I failed again.

Warm hands, that even through my gloves I could feel, rested over mine, looking up to see a warm smile that spread instant comfort through my body. Without looking she pried the gun from my hand and placed it back on my belt.

“But—”

Moving away from me she sat on the edge of the building with her feet dangling over the ledge. Tapping the ground for me to sit on, curiosity flared within in me as to why sitting was a part of her training. I moved on auto pilot to take a seat trusting that a hero of at least fifteen years knew what she was doing.

From behind her back she pulled her staff, magically it extended and retracted impressively a few times before putting it back. “My baton is awesome, but not much help in teaching nor demonstrating proper swinging technique.”

Nodding my head as if the information was profound, I waited to discover how she planned to help me overcome my problems then.

“Truthfully even if I had my yo-yo, it wouldn’t have helped you.”

Oh god, she was about to tell me I was never going to be good enough. I knew it. Yet, it would still hurt hearing the words come from such a respectable hero.

“Then why even bother,” my voice was laced with a hint of anger, maybe she could even hear the pain.

A tinkling of bells greeted my outburst causing me to scowl in her direction. Giving her the look, the only thing I could do that was worthy of being associated with the Bats, she refused to be intimidated.

“Don’t take the meaning of my words incorrectly, mon oisillon. I did not lie when I said your form was beautiful. Nightwing has trained you very well, I could not have done better myself. Your aim was off, but it had nothing to do with the mechanics of your jump and everything to do with what was going on up here.” Her finger lightly pressed against my forehead.

God, she’s good.

“Before you jumped what were you thinking about?”

My unworthiness, my failures, my end.

“Nothing.”

“So, you’re a liar?” There was no accusation in her tone, it was stated as a fact and nothing more.

“No!”

Yes! In every way possible.

“Okay, let’s try again. What were you thinking about? There is no wrong answer, there is only the truth.”

The truth, how to put the truth succinctly. “About how I was going to fail because I shouldn’t even be up here. How I’m unfit to wear this suit and call myself Robin when I know I’ll mess up and disgrace the name.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like nothing. That actually sounds like a lot to have to worry about. No wonder you were distracted before you jumped. Though to be honest, your level of outward confidence would have done a good job covering it. Had I not been a victim of the similar thoughts when I first started, I might not have noticed.”

There was nothing to say as my synapsis failed to fire and form thoughts. Was she saying that she had confidence issues, that couldn’t be right, or at least she was exaggerating a little?

“I like you was chosen to become Ladybug when I was young, thirteen in fact. My training before I was literally tossed into danger, was Self-Defense 101 with my maman. I felt unworthy, far from ready and confused as to why someone would even think of picking me. On my very first day, I was swinging through the city, not knowing what I was doing and ran right into my partner and tangled us up in my wire.”

The image of two kids, my age, dangling from the streets in a mass of tangled limps and wire played in my head eliciting a chuckle.

“My partner on the other hand, was so confident and excited to be a hero he used his power to destroy a goal post. Meaning he was on a five-minute timer back then and he couldn’t use it on the villain when we needed it.”

“How did you overcome your feelings and mistakes?” Would I truly ever be able to not mess up and become worthy of the mantel Dick left me? I found myself surprised that a hope sparked in my heart once more that maybe I would.

“I won’t lie, it took a couple of years to stop feeling unworthy.”

Great, if someone as amazing as Ladybug felt unworthy for so long, how was there any hope for someone like me? Never mind actually becoming worthy.

“The man who chose me as Ladybug took about half a year to show up before he could even explain why he picked me. Which disappointedly enough was a simple answer of saving him from getting hit by a car as he crossed a street. That exact moment I’d remembered faceplanting into the pavement and dropping my package of macaroons. Not something I saw deeming me as worthy to give one of the most powerful objects in the world to.”

Ranked up there with giving a mantel to someone who failed to steal your tires.

“Then there is the fact I kept making mistakes. Big ones too. I got jealous of someone and ended up leading my villain to my mentor who was in hiding.”

“Did he die?” Death was a part of the hero schtick, I knew this, but the thought of causing an innocent’s death from a mistake was my biggest fear that I wasn’t sure I would recover from if it happened.

“No, but what happened was almost like death. To protect the miraculous, he had to give up his memories of them. Meaning he gave up his memories from the time he had them, essentially his whole life. To this day, it still weighs on my conscience, even if the results were inevitable and he got to spend the rest of his life with the love of his life.”

“So how did you get over it?” Her lead up to her answer was leaving me with a heavy dose of confidence. Not.

“Simple, when I finally accepted the fact to er is human. And most of us heroes and vigilantes are only human. Mistakes will be made, all the time. Do you think Batman has made no mistakes?”

“He acts like he hasn’t.”

She chuckled. “True. Doesn’t change the fact he does, and that he chooses to learn from them, so he doesn’t make them again. At least not in the same way. But don’t let him fool you with his confidence, let him fool the criminals, he does make mistakes…often.” The last word was said under her breath, but I still heard it.

“One mistake he didn’t make, was choosing you. If he had you wouldn’t be up here. Just like if my mentor had made a mistake he would have removed my miraculous and not trained me to replace him. You have to believe that just like my mentor, Batman—whose been at this game for a while—was able to see something in you that made you worth. Even if you can’t see it yourself.”

A single tear fell from my eyes. Unsure of why or when it formed, I tried to quickly wipe it away before Ladybug saw it. Her hand was quicker, swiping it away with a single finger before placing her other hand on the side of my cheek causing my head to turn in her direction and our eyes to lock.

“Every hero starts off green, with things to learn, mistakes to learn from. In my humble opinion, the best heroes are the ones that start off feeling unworthy.” A scoff escaped between us. “I’m serious, it’s those feelings of being unworthy, unprepared, not invincible, that make us train harder, fight smarter, keep us grounded and not feeling like were better than the people we protect.”

My mind reeled again, questioning the legitimacy of her words.  Where they facts or merely a rehearsed speech given to make me feel better?

“Ready for the biggest truth bomb of all?”

Nodding my head in the affirmative, I lied once more.

“You are worthy.”

“Sure! You figured that out in the last twenty minutes that you’ve known me?”

She dropped her hand and a slight playfulness radiated from her body. “Wanna know how I do it?”

My fingers beckoned her to give it to me.

She laughed, but then looked at me with steel in her eyes, as if to say she liked our little exchange, but I was to take her next words seriously. “One of my many abilities is to read auras. And auras never lie. It is how my mentor was able to tell I was worthy, and it is how I can look at you now knowing you are too.”

Another stray tear descended on my cheek, but this time she acted as if it were not there, standing to look out into the Gotham night instead.

“Come on, let’s have a race. I hate staying still for too long and Batman is bound to catch us talking and then he’ll be convinced where talking about him behind his back.”

I laughed, finding the idea a little preposterous, till I didn’t. “Where to?”

“Wayne Tower.”

Off in the distance stood the pride of Wayne Enterprise, a good seven swings away at least. Sensing my hesitance, she moved to stand beside me away from the edge.

“I know you’re worthy, it’s not a feeling it’s a fact. But the way you feel is the way you feel, you can’t change your feelings because someone tells you otherwise, you have to feel it. In the meantime, don’t let that feeling define you, let it motivate you. Don’t fake it till you make it, make it while you fake it.”

Like a small child I looked at my grapple gun as if it held all the answers to my feelings as I stepped closer to the edge of the building. Lifting my arms I aimed my gun towards my target, taking a calming breath, steeling my determination towards success.

“Now fly,” was the last thing I heard before my gun fired and Lady Noire literally kicked me from the roof like a mama bird did her babies from the nest.

As I free fell I worried briefly that I would once again risk splatting on the wall, but a surprisingly loud chuckle brought my attention to the pole vaulter beside me. The fact that we were over twenty stories above the ground, and she was enjoying herself immensely, I knew that should I risk failure, I had her and Batman to help me climb back up. For now, that was enough.

The feelings of unworthiness would not dissipate overnight, but I would make it while I faked it.

Instinct had my feet lift at the right time to prevent the sudden tension in the wire from causing a drag that would lead me off target. With no doubt lingering there was nothing to prevent me from doing what I knew how to do. After gracefully—as much as I could—landing upon the roof, I raced off quickly in pursuit of Lady Noire as she raced to the other side of the building.

And for once in a very long time, even if the moment was momentary, I was no longer faking it.

I had made it.

Chapter Text

Graduating high school was meant to be this moment that signaled the end of your adolescence and the transition into becoming independent. Personally, those feelings came at two very different moments, neither of which included walking across an auditorium’s stage for a piece of paper.

The first, when Jason took over the mantel of Robin and I became Nightwing. Never in a million years did I think I would willingly hand down the title that my mother had given me. But as with all things, eventually her little Robin had to leave the nest for bigger and better. In the year that I held the mantel I’d accomplished so much, everyone in Gotham knew who Robin was as much as they knew Batman. But Robin would never rise above the label of Batman’s sidekick, and I needed to. Stepping out as Nightwing was the day that I truly graduated from an adolescent apprentice to a hero of my own right. An equal member of the Bat Team, no longer hidden by the Dark Knight’s shadow.

The second event to usher the dawning of my independence, I’d had all summer to prepare myself for. Yet, when presented with it, the reality was quickly overwhelming. Things were about to change, for the better was unknown, but they would change regardless. In front of me stood the dorms of Gotham University, my new home for at least the next year.

I’d been resigned to the fact I would likely miss this college quintessential experience. After all, how could I be a vigilante and worry about my roommate finding out. Bruce had appeared to be happy with my decision, but Marinette had been emphatic that I had to participate in this one tradition. That it was essential for my social development, and I would always question what if. As it usually happens when the best reason for not doing something is because of a secret, the few reasons Bruce and I could muster against dorm living were easily dismissed. Bruce was forced to come up with a solution that could put me in the dorms, allow my after-school activities to continue, all while protecting my identity.

It was embarrassing how simple the solution turned out to be, and how exciting the prospect of moving out became. Bruce had managed to secure me a room in one of the suites with four separate bedrooms: a common bathroom between two and a common living area for all four. The suite on the bottom floor with a view to an alley might have seemed beneath a billionaire’s kid, but perfect for me to slip out of my window at night to where I hid my bike and equipment in a fake, locked dumpster.

“It’s just like your room in the manor, maybe a little smaller and pedestrian,” Jason observed as he did a quick circle of my room.

Bruce placed his arms across his chest and huffed like an angry teenager, “which is why it’s ridiculous that you couldn’t just stay at the manor.”

With the almost half a foot height difference between them there should have been no way for her to do it, but somehow Marinette wrapped her upper body around Bruce’s in a comforting embrace. “It’ll be okay Bruce, he’s only fifteen minutes from the office and it’s only for a year.”

At first Bruce refused to relax as Marinette continued to hold him, eventually his head dropped so that it rested on her shoulder and his voice was muffled as he spoke. “But forty from the manor. What if he needs something? What if he needs us?”

“Then he’ll have to do what every other kid in the dorm does. Make. It. Work.”

“But—”

Pulling away from him, Mari looked at Bruce as she would an insolent child, which if we were being honest, he was acting like. “If you really need to be close by, your downtown apartment is only ten minutes away.”

“What? —This has nothing to do about me—I’m just worried about him. This will be the first time he’s on his own.”

Marinette giggled, taking Bruce’s face within her hands. My heart skipped as it hoped she might finally lean forward and kiss him to offer additional comfort. I was sorely disappointed, and from the way Jason’s shoulders dropped suddenly beside me apparently not the only one, when it amounted to nothing more.

“It’s hard when a little bird has to leave the nest, but eventually it has to happen so they can learn to fly by themselves.”

Her bird analogy had all three of us choking on air. The saying was common enough, but anything to do with bats or birds always seemed to hit a little too close to home.

“Besides Babs is his suitemate. Meaning Commissioner Gordon is only a call away should anything serious happen. You have nothing to worry about other than how he is going to learn to do his own laundry.”

Looking back, I’m ashamed of my reaction, as my face dropped in pure disbelief of having not taken such a trivial item into account when considering moving into the dorms. “I have to do my own laundry. Can’t I just bring it to the manor every weekend?”

“You could, but there is going to come a time you’re going to have to learn to adult. Surely, Alfred taught you how to cook and clean at some point?”

About to defend myself with something along the lines of being capable of washing clothing in a bucket of water, I was interrupted by Jason. “Nope, not after the first incident. The story includes a flood, a laundry room, a hidden stain and a livid Alfred.”

I instantly shot daggers at Jason, scared that he might share too many details about that specific incident. Alfred shamed me sufficiently after flooding the laundry room, I spilled my guts like a prisoner under torture about the stain as soon as he asked. A confession to Marinette about the nature of that stain, which happened to be an incident involving an iron, markers and a valentine for Barbara that never got delivered, would be embarrassing.

“Dick is banned from the kitchen for life because he destroyed Alfred’s favorite pan trying to make scrambled eggs. The event was so devastating for our dear Alfred, it is a cautionary tale that he shares to every new Wayne inductee as to why they shall never pass into the kitchen or laundry room. He is the Gandolf of the manor, protecting it from the curse of Bruce and his children.”

Marinette looked shocked and turned to face Bruce, who tried to smile as if not guilty of worse offenses in said kitchen. In response Marinette’s expression turned from shock to pure horror.

To save face, Bruce tried to defend himself, operative word…tried. “I know the basics of cooking…a rabbit or rattle snake…on a spit…on an open flame…in the middle of nowhere.”

“What were you a boy scout?” Bruce’s face puckered as if sucking on a lemon, as Jason and I snickered. The comparison to a certain someone whom he’d nicknamed Boy Scout, likely not sitting right with the Dark Knight.

“Something like that.” He managed to say through his clenched jaw.

With her hand Marinette mimicked the need to take a deep breath. “No, no, no, this just won’t do. We need to rectify this, right now. We’re going to my apartment.”

“But I thought we were going to get dinner.” Jason whined as he looked down at his stomach as if delivering it some terrible news.

“We are. You three are just going to make it and then I’ll teach you how to do laundry using washing machines.” Flourishing her words, Marinette wiggled her fingers as if it were a new technology— admittedly to a traveling circus performer it was a luxury we were never afforded.

“But I don’t have any laundry?”

“You can do some of mine.”

Embarrassed at the thought that crossed my mind, I looked at Bruce who was also turning an interesting shade of red, his thinking likely along a similar line of mine. “But I don’t want to look at your—your intimates.”

A gurgling noise escaped her lips before Marinette burst into a full-blown laughing fit. “They aren’t the only things I wash, Dick.”

Whispering, “I knew that” I relented to an evening which was supposed to be dinner at a nice restaurant before the ‘parents’ officially sent me off, to a night of torture also known as ‘adulting.’

Bruce obviously sensing a similar trap tried to weasel his way out of the evening. “I guess I’ll head to the office and get a few things done, maybe swing by in time for dinner?”

He moved towards the door, hoping to make his escape before Marinette could reply. But Marinette was quicker as she grabbed Bruce’s hand and spun him around. “I don’t think so Mr. Eccentric Billionaire who thought learning the basics of life at a dude ranch would suffice.”

“Ohhhh, burnnnn.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder to give Jason his infamous glare. “You know we still have our court date on Friday before I officially adopt you. That can change.”

Jason unmoved by the threat, shrugged his shoulders and moved to stand beside Marinette placing his elbow on her shoulder. “I’m not worried. You don’t adopt me, Marinette will. Win-win for me either way.”

Bruce stayed quiet knowing that he wouldn’t be able to counter the point. I knew for a fact that the idea of Marinette adopting him had crossed Jason’s mind numerous times and while Bruce would never follow through with his threat, she wouldn’t hesitate to adopt him. Truthfully, if Jason and I had our way, both would have adopted him officially as a couple on Friday. Wishful thinking had me getting ahead of myself and apparently way ahead of Bruce and Marinette.

“Well then, let’s get going. With the three of you making dinner this could take a while.”

The car ride to Marinette’s started in uncomfortable silence. Jason chose to ride with Marinette while Bruce jumped—as much as Bruce did—at the opportunity to ride alone with me. I may not have had years of experience with Bruce’s emotional constipation nor Marinette’s uncanny ability to get him to open up, I had learned enough though to read when something was heavily weighting on Bruce even if he tried not to show it.

 “You know we’ll still see each other almost every night on patrol? And at movie night and dinner every Sunday when my schedule allows.” For few moments we continued to ride in silence as I waited for Bruce to respond in some way, but there wasn’t even a flinch. “I’m not going anywhere Bruce. Maybe one day I’ll find a city that needs our kind of help and strike out on my own. That’s not for a long time and even then, I’ll still visit. We’ll still be a family no matter what, end of discussion.”

Bruce remained quiet, and I wondered if I’d overstepped or misunderstood the cause of his current emotional constipation.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. I guess I’m not ready to lose you.” Bruce spoke barely above a whisper. The evenness of his tone the only reason it could be picked up above the sound of the road as the car drove along.

“Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” was all he managed to say.

Even as the evening descended upon Gotham and the car began to darken, I could just make out Bruce’s fists clinching as they rested on his legs. There was a conversation that he was fighting himself on having. Normally only Marinette could break down his walls enough to get him to open up, but I hoped for once he could be more honest with me so that we could face what was bothering him together. As I was obviously at the center of what pained him.

“I know you think my decision to give Robin to Jason was quick and easy. Like you were being replaced without a second thought.”

While I’d completely come to terms and realized that moving away from Robin was a good decision, I couldn’t deny that when I was first asked to give away Robin, I’d been completely blindsided and hurt. Sure, I figured it was inevitable, I just hadn’t anticipated it to happen so quickly. It had felt like I was being replaced, leading to a contentious first week of official training between me and Jason. As luck would have it, a conversation with Marinette about a completely unrelated topic had me reevaluating my relationship to the figure that Robin had become and looking at the bigger picture of both the future of Batman and Robin as well as the hero/vigilante I wanted to be.

“It wasn’t though. When I saw Jason, I knew he had so much potential and could use an outlet to funnel it. Much like you did when you first came to me. Then there was the fact that I knew that you were growing past the point of being my sidekick. The amount of knowledge I had to pass on was quickly diminishing, the rest are things you’re going to learn from both experience and independence.”

Bruce hesitated and I knew we were about to get to the part where he would be admitting something he wasn’t comfortable with saying out loud.

“Yet, I wanted to ignore those facts because I was scared—no I am scared that you’ll get hurt and I won’t be there. Scared—just scared…. Scared of a lot of things.” There were obviously things being left unsaid, but at least he was sharing what he could. “The only reason, I committed was because of Ladybug.”

What? Since when had Batman had the opportunity to talk to Ladybug alone about me? Sure, there were nights that I didn’t go out to patrol as Robin for one reason or another, but he never made it sound like he met up with Ladybug during any of those occasions.

“She is always there when we need her. If for some reason I couldn’t be there, I have great confidence in the fact that somehow, someway she’d be there to help. So even though I think you’re still a little young to be completely on your own, I’m ready to admit that a little independence won’t hurt.”

Had the car not been bathed in darkness, Bruce would have seen me looking at him in complete shock at his admission. “Is that why you can’t deal with me living in the dorm?”

“I’m still not ready to let go. You and Jason are my sons. I don’t think I’ll ever really be ready.”

“Wow, that must have been really hard to say.” Joking to break the awkward tension, I realized that saying those words were probably harder than anything he’d had to say before. Admitting his emotions was to Batman what getting stabbed by kryptonite was for Superman. It physically pained him to be emotional vulnerable, fearful that others may use it as a weakness against him. Something to do with his training. It rubbed off slightly on both Jason and me, just manifesting differently; the constant sunny disposition in myself and the overly confident and cocky attitude in Jason.  

“You can thank Marinette for this Partridge Family moment, she pulled me aside and told me off for my behavior earlier.”

Images of exactly how that conversation went filled my head, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at the different ways it could have gone and how either way Bruce would have looked like a scolded child. “What’s a Patridge Family moment…Wait, you let Marinette tell you off?”

“Don’t worry about it, even I’m not really old enough to understand the reference, it’s something Alfred used to say. And you know how she is, told me to grow up and act like an adult instead of a baby. Reminded me, you going off to college was a sign of having done something right. Then taking a dig by telling me she wasn’t really sure what I did and then proceeding to take most of the credit for you instead.”

Sounded about right.

“So, when are you going to ask her out to ensure Jason ends up okay too?”

Shouldn’t have been surprised when Bruce choked on air, forcing me to fake sympathy and slap him across the back as if he had something caught in his throat.

Channeling my inner Jason—who had a much easier time trolling Bruce—I went full steam ahead on my attack.  “Come on old man, what’s holding you back?”

“She doesn’t seem ready,” was stated defensively. “I just have to be sure she’s ready for all of this…Bruce and Batman.”

“B, I don’t think you’ll meet another woman more right for you. The way she goes with the flow with everything else I doubt you being Batman would shock her or be an issue. I mean if she accepted Bruce, Batman would be an easier pill to swallow.”

Bruce grunted in response.

“But…the longer you wait, the more likely she is to stop waiting and find someone else, because trust me when I say there are plenty looking at her.”

With that parting reality the car suddenly became quiet but not before a growl followed my assessment from Bruce. I said my peace and felt that there was nothing more that could be said, either he’d take the initiative, or he wouldn’t and risk missing out.

We arrived at Marinettes a few minutes behind her and went up to her apartment where she and Jason had begun to pull things for dinner. Upon seeing us, Jason abandoned Marinette and came racing towards me, taking my arm as he began to pull me back towards the front door.

“Come on. Marinette told me the basics of how to do laundry on the way up.”

Marinette’s body came to a screeching halt as she turned so that she could look directly at us. “Jason no, you need to be supervised.”

In his typical fashion Jason blew off her concerns with a simple flick of his hand. “Come on Pixie, what could go wrong with the both of us doing it?”

“A lot!” Both Marinette and Bruce said in sync.

Jason feigned hurt by grabbing his chest before straightening and rolling his eyes. “We’ll be fine,” with that he pulled me out the door and had it shut before they could say anything more.

Following Jason, I pondered what he was up to as we rounded the corner of the hallway, away from the elevator that would bring us down to the communal laundry room. At the end of it, where there was a small window looking out to the street below, he suddenly stopped to survey our surroundings before pulling out a pair of headphones.

“What are you doing? We don’t have any laundry.”

“Right, that gives us about ten minutes to have ridden down to the laundry room, walk all the way there to figure out that small detail and come back up.”

Handing me one of the headphones, I looked at him in confusion hoping that he would fill in what I was clearly missing. “I planted a listening device, duh.”

“Oh, smart.”

“I know. Now shut up and listen.”

Placing the headphone in my ear, I got as close to Jason as possible so that we could listen to the audio together.

“Just go ahead and dice this.”

“How do I do that?” Bruce could be heard saying.

“Really Bruce, even dicing eludes you? Here, let me show you.”

“What? I’ve always had Alfred in my life.”

Barely caught by the listening device was the sound of a knife slicing for a few seconds before it paused only to be resumed with a different cadence.

“Here try using a smaller knife. The one you have, you’re more likely to cut yourself with the way you’re using it.”

“I am quite proficient with my knife skills I’ll have you know.”

“Still, a smaller knife will help.”

“Don’t they say bigger is better.”

Snorting, I couldn’t help but imagine this was Bruce’s attempt to flirt with Marinette while ‘cooking.’ It was so painfully awkward, but Marinette always seemed to enjoy it and participate willingly.

“Not always Bruce, a smaller knife can be fine as long as you know how to use it.”

“It’s nice though when you know how to use it and its large.”

Jason gagged beside me, looking slightly embarrassed. “They’re not talking about knifes, are they?”

“God, this has to be the worst romantic comedy I’ve ever heard”

“Oh God Bruce.” Both of our eyes jumped out of their socket at Marinette’s sudden exclamation, wondering what had caused it.

We clustered together as if getting closer would allow us to hear what we could not separately. I didn’t breathe as I strained to listen to what was happening in the apartment. There was some wrestling occurring, but it was too low to be able to figure out exactly what was happening.

“See if you had used the smaller knife you wouldn’t have cut yourself.”

“Oh, come on!” Jason yelled out, before covering his mouth with his hand, my own jumping to assist. We both held our breath hoping his outburst would not travel down the hall and through the door at the end of it.

“Here hold this, I’ll get my first aid kit.” Silence filled the audio, and we were both confident we were in the clear having not been heard. After a minute, the presence of background noise could be heard again, meaning that Marinette was taking care of Bruce’s ‘booboo.’

“There! Better already.”

“What no kiss to make it feel better too?” Bruce asked cleverly, causing Marinette’s breath to audibly hitch.

Once again, Jason and I looked at each other both with smiles on our face as we waited for the payout of months of hard work to get the pair together. Beside me Jason was bouncing on his toes unable to contain his excitement, or was it nerves as we waited for Marinette to respond.

Silence.

More silence.

“What’s going on?” Jason finally asked, breaking the void with his whisper.

“How am I supposed to know? Should have planted a camera.” I whispered back as if a loud noise might break the chance for the impossible.

“Like Marinette wouldn’t have noticed.”

“True.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of a glass shattering before a resounding thud. Followed closely behind was the muffled sound of something.

“What do you think is happening?” I whispered quickly.

“No camera, remember?” Jason mocked. “Part of me can only hope it’s what I think it is. But then I remember that’s like our family and it’s not something I really want to think about without having to bleach my brain out.” Jason exaggerated a shiver at the idea. Admittedly not a picture I wanted in my head either.

“Wait, wait.” Marinette finally said between pants. “The boys could be back any minute, I don’t think they actually brought any laundry down to wash.”

“Don’t care,” was the only part of Bruce’s reply we heard before Jason pulled the headphones out of our ears as quick as possible as if they were bombs about to detonate.

“I don’t need to hear the rest of that. I’ll be scarred for life and never be able to be in their presence again.”

Lamenting at the shared sentiment, while feeling a little resentment, my smile dropped. “Just as I’m leaving it finally happens.”

“You’re not really leaving? Right?” Jason’s own joyfulness was quickly replaced with a frown and sagging shoulders.

“Nah, you can’t get rid of me. I’m just going to school down the road. I’ll always be your big brother Little Wing. Whatever you need, count me there. Always.” Wrapping my arm around his shoulder I pulled him closely in for a side hug.  “Come on we’re out of time. Marinette probably won’t let it resume tonight. Let’s go enjoy the budding of their relationship and give Bruce shit.”

“Sounds like my kind of night.”

Chapter Text

Before the bell had a chance to ring, my hand was already resting upon the handle of the door. The person behind it expected, and while her presence was usually welcomed at the manor, today I would have wished to avoid it.

When the door opened Ms. Marinette stood behind it. Her smile as bright as ever, a testament to her person considering the uncommon weight upon her shoulders.

“Good morning, Ms. Marinette.”

“Morning Alfred, I was hoping to catch Mr. Wayne. I have papers I hoped to review with him before my flight.” There was so much hope shining from her eyes, excitement as well. Without even looking at her empty arms, I knew there were no papers. Something more pressing drove her to the manor only a few hours before her flight to Germany.

There had been a change in her and Bruce’s dynamic just under a week ago. I did not need powers to deduce what the cause had likely been. Though in all honesty, I had been working hard to prevent such an incident from happening. 

Not that I was against a relationship between the pair. In fact, I was just as much a cheerleader to the formation of one as the boys. Having taken a hand in raising Bruce, I’d wanted happiness for him more than anything. When Marinette entered his life, it became immediately obvious she could be the one to bring it.

Instantly there were positive changes that brought Bruce out of his perpetually depressed state that had him gunning towards a singular goal that was honestly destroying him, to a somewhat functioning human being that contributed to society in more ways than the one.

Bruce realized his pursuit for justice against the criminals of Gotham could be realized through multiple facets. Done better, in fact, when worked by many angles, instead of driving towards it in the most elusive of manners that created a wake which was not always positive.  

The Brucie persona was dropped, which meant both Batman and Bruce Wayne could be seen as positive contributors to Gotham. A godsend as I’d never agreed with his sacrificing his family’s legacy and reputation for an alibi.

Wayne Enterprises once again had a competent Wayne at the helm and the company began to assist with food kitchens, products for the less fortunate, and legal support for the underrepresented of Gotham, just to name a few. All helping Batman in his crusade to better the city. A legacy his father had begun and now Bruce worked as two different people to continue.

In an unexpected turn of events, Batman, I work alone, who’d begrudgingly joined the Justice League after months of wooing, took on proteges. The void created by his parents’ death he’d finally filled by adopting Dick and then Jason. It was my sincere hope someday, soon no less, Marinette would join the family. As well as seeing to its continued growth through adoptions or other means.

But secrets currently kept them from fully committing and I feared starting a relationship without sharing them first might end up breaking them apart in the end.

“I’m afraid Master Bruce and the boys have left for the afternoon.”

Before me Marinette’s face fell at the news of the boys being otherwise detained, and there was confusion evident in her expression. “Oh, I wasn’t aware they had plans.”

“I believe they were spur of the moment. Master Jason found an event he wished to attend; Master Bruce and Master Dick escorted him there earlier this morning.”

From the way she pursed her lips and glanced down at her phone, I could tell she was not convinced of my lie, but she would not call me on it. “Well, I’m glad they could spend time together. Please take care of my boys while I am gone.”

“Of course, Miss Marinette. Take care of yourself as well.”

I waited until she had returned to her car and driven off to the airport before I solemnly closed the door and turned to find Ruufus floating before me. His golden eyes shining in the darkness, a variety of colors swirling in their depth much like a crystal ball.

“The dominoes will begin to tumble,” he warned.

I nodded my head in agreement, foreseeing the same. “They are not my secrets to share. So now the lies will lay where they fall. We’ll just have to hope when the dust settles, they will be able to build something again.”

Making my way towards the cave using passages even Master Bruce had no knowledge of, Ruufus followed in silence. Like the cat he reflected, he went unseen through the manor having done so for the last thirty some years he’d been a resident.

“I am sorry I have given you this burden my friend,” was said before we entered the door behind the T-Rex.

“Your companionship is not a burden,” I replied truthfully.

Our meeting had been the result of a unique series of circumstances that had me backpacking in the Rockies after choosing to leave England post war.  Getting lost in the wilderness had not been a part of my plan, nor was stumbling upon a bobcat’s den. What met my eyes within, none of my twenty-five years of life had prepared me for.

Beside an older bobcat, sat a similar lynx like creature who looked at me with an intelligence the animals usually did not possess. Neither cat attacked, at first I believed it was due to the vine like snare around the bobcat’s paw, but when it failed to react by thrashing in panic to defend itself, I knew immediately it was not the case. Despite the oddity that was Ruufus’ presence, I was still concerned for the bobcat, and upon a quick inspection my eyes fell upon an injury on the side of the poor animal. An injury clearly caused by a human tool and too severe to lead to any result for the poor cat other than death.  

“I know all your secrets human.” The lynx like creature boasted much to my growing horror. “No human has been worthy of me in many decades and yet I find you may be. Please remove the vine from my friend’s paw and become my chosen.”

Taking the vine snare from the cat’s paw changed my life forever. As long as the Miraculous of the Lynx, which now looked like a watch made from wood, rested upon my wrist, so shall Ruufus remain my companion.

“But my secrets are.” His soulful eyes looked deeply into my own. There was a sadness present—always present—caused by years of seeing the cost of secrets.

Grabbing my friend, I held him closely so he would hear me. “Do not let the desires for money and power from your previous holders blacken your opinion of who you are. Or let you believe those who share your power see it as anything other than what it is, a blessing. It is always up to the person with power to determine what to do with it, it is never the power that is inherently good or bad.”

Throughout time there has only been one constant fact true for mankind. Many would be hard pressed to determine what it is, as it is not one that jumps at you. The simple truth, secrets are the most powerful issue that man possesses.

For as much as a secret can protect, it can just as easily ruin. A secret hidden can provide power to those it is kept for, as much as a secret given can hand power to those who it is shared with. Throughout time secrets have been used as a sort of currency, as individuals trade them for money and power. But as with all men who strive for too much, the wrong secret is often obtained, shared, and sometimes kept, eventually leading to their downfall. None suffering worse than those in possession of Ruufus who used him for personal gain.

“Still, you would not be so concerned for Master Bruce and Miss Marinette if you were not aware of the secrets surrounding them.”

I chuckled at him, finding his theatrics amusing. For being clairvoyant emotions were often lost on him, likely the result of his only companions for years being bobcats. “Since Master Bruce was born, can you honestly think of a time I have not been concerned about him? The secrets he and Marinette have, whether I know them or not, still exist. Knowing them at least gave me a shot to alleviate potential problems. Unfortunately, Master Bruce chose not to heed my warning and in the end, they are not my secrets to tell.”

Ruufus’ power, Clairvoyance, allowed his wearer to see what could not be seen, the secrets. Such as a person behind a wall, a knife hidden in a pocket or a person’s fears or desires. For his chosen, should their bond grow, powers manifest within them untransformed, secrets become their trade as well. They can perceive things at a much lower level than Clairvoyance. Like sensing something will happen before it does. Not always precise, it is more of a feeling of needing to do or be someplace without understanding the why. Over time I’ve come to recognize these feelings and have used them to connect dots. Such as when I feel the need to head to the kitchen, I’m likely making a snack for someone who will shortly come looking for one. The foyer, I’m likely to open the door. Feelings about people, make me watch closely to see what isn’t always said.

This is how I came to realize Marinette was Ladybug.

Since bonding with Ruufus I have come to know many secrets and for the most part I have kept those secrets to myself. But in all honesty, the hardest part of knowing a secret, is knowing when to keep it and when it might be time to share.

Opening the door to the Batcave, I stood in the shadows until needed. A skill honed through the years.

In front of the computer sat three figures observing two others who were displayed on the large screen. From the distance, I could see Dick’s fist clinching as Superman addressed those assembled.

“Thank you again for taking time away to help with this mission, Batman. I know space missions aren’t really your forte.” Superman smiled through the screen knowing his words would rub Bruce. As his closest friend, aside from Marinette, he took pleasure riling him up. “Should only take two weeks to complete, no longer than a month.”

“I have put together the necessary alibis to cover my absence from work for whichever length is required. Nightwing will be covering as Batman, so none suspect my absence.”

“Perfect. Rendezvous 1845 for departure from the Watchtower.” With that, Superman and Wonder Woman flickered off the screen and were replaced with a case file the boys must have been working on earlier.

“You wouldn’t need those contingency plans if you would just have let me take the mission instead.” Nightwing grumbled beside Batman. It was an argument between the two since Bruce had first brought up the mission.

Personally, I agreed with Dick about the need for no contingencies and elaborate alibis if he would just listen to my advice and tell Marinette about Batman.

“You need to remain so you can continue your schoolwork. A month’s absence from work is easy for me to manufacture, a month from school for you, is not.” Bruce repeated his argument. It was sound, but in all honesty, I could not understand why Batman was needed on the mission at all. It had seemed like any hero would have been able to fill the billet based on what Superman required.

“So easy you had to send Marinette away for an entire month to Germany? To work on an imaginary deal so she wouldn’t know of your absence.”

The crux of the matter materialized. As Bruce and the boys became a family, there was no denying Marinette was an equal member. Both parental figures leaving for an extended period of time was likely to cause feelings of abandonment for both Dick and Jason. An issue all three already suffered from in one fashion or another.

“Marinette is the only one who would have been able to figure out I was lying about my whereabouts. Getting her away from the office and busy was essential for my cover.”

Perceiving an elevating tension, I knew it was time for a mature voice to intercede. “As I’ve informed you Master Bruce, the solution to your problem would have been to simply inform Miss Marinette of your nightly activities. I believe she has proven time and time again she is worthy of your trust.”

The only sign of his surprise to my sudden interjection was a micro jump in his shoulders before he went to brace himself against the table. Where others would pace when their anxiety flared, Bruce required a grounding, he accomplished it by bracing himself against the closest object to stop his bodies need to fidget. “I do trust her,” he growled.

“Then why don’t we just tell her?” Jason interjected; his own anger broadcasted across his expression which was tight, no signs of his usually good humor. “I’m sure she already knows something is going on. She’s seen most of my bruises and I’d hate to think what she imagines is actually happening as my excuses are getting flimsier as I keep getting more. The truth would be better than what I’d be picturing if I was her.”

Bruce looked horrified at the idea Marinette might think he was abusing Jason. The idea was made worse by the fact Dick tended to sport similar bruises, and while Bruce did as well, he didn’t often put himself in a position where she would be able to see them. Or I did not think they had been in such a position yet.

“You don’t honestly believe she thinks that?” Bruce looked at the three of us, desperate for just one to deny it.

“Honestly, I don’t know. She doesn’t pry. But I know she sees them because she insists on putting an ointment on them. I agree with Jason though, the excuses are getting old, so no telling what she actually thinks.” Dick answered before I had a chance to placate Bruce’s fears.

“I do not believe she would think something like that, Master Bruce. She is around you enough to know the type of relationship you share, that the boys have no fear of you”—despite his best efforts at times— “and I have no doubt she would have reported you, if she ever were to suspect.”

“However—” Bruce looked up at me like I’d already punched him in the gut and was preparing for the next blow. “Secrets only lead to misunderstandings if they are allowed to unravel without being told. Being forthcoming would be advisable if you wish to keep Miss Marinette in your life.”

Bruce looked off to the distance, his face impassive as he considered what he’d just been told. Admirably Bruce’s training while he was away in his late teens had made him harder to read, his feelings and thoughts were hidden behind a mask of indifference, but thanks to Ruufus, I had an ability to see more than most. Such as now, where I knew there was conflicting desires present in him, caused by a haunting memory.

Years ago, long before Dick and Jason became family, or Bruce had established the role known as Brucie, there was someone who Bruce thought to allow into his life. Fortunately, Vicki Vale showed her true conniving colors before he spilled his secrets which would have aired on the ten o’clock news.

The saga that was his relationship with her, had Bruce shutting down the potential for a real relationship. Believing women who wished to date Bruce Wayne had far too many ulterior motives to be trustworthy enough with his secrets.

Hiding those secrets however, prevented a strong relationship from being able to form as Batman was a huge part of who Bruce was. To not know he was Batman was to not know Bruce. Not to mention after Vale, he firmly established the persona of Brucie to cover for Batman and it was who he presented himself out to the world as. A person that was neither Bruce nor Batman. It tended to attract women who would be with him for the wrong reason. With Marinette’s appearance, Brucie disappeared, but I knew her initial impression of Bruce was tainted by the fake persona. While his first interaction with his personal assistant had embarrassed him greatly, and he immediately set to erase all traces of the fake persona, I doubted she could easily dismiss the established reputation. Despite two years free of him, she may fear Brucie’s return if not aware of the truth behind him.

The first woman in years for Bruce to open up to. Problem though, Marinette knew Bruce and Ladybug knew Batman. To her they are two separate entities. The same would be said for Bruce. As long as the costumes remained between them, they would continue to question their own trust of the other and feelings. A crack in their foundation that would only continue to splinter the longer it was not addressed. Excuses to explain one’s sudden departure or missed event, would make the other feel less than. Misunderstandings would stay unresolved to keep secrets hidden. Eventually, as with most things built on secrets, the relationship would crumble and even if the truth was later revealed, I wasn’t sure if a new relationship could form.

“I’ll tell her when she returns.” Bruce relented before leaving the cave to prevent both boys from reproaching him.

I felt Ruufus nestle into my neck from behind, a sign that both of us shared a similar thought.

Hopefully by then, it would not be too late.

***The story of Ruufus***

Like Liiri, Ruufus is a part of the Native American Miraculous Box. His name comes from the species lynx rufus or red lynx—more commonly called a bobcat—as his appearance reflects. At 10 centimeters he sports a catlike appearance, reddish tan in color with black spots highlighted in white. Ruufus also sports the tufted ears, long mutton chops and bobbed tail associated with those bobcats from the Northern part of the North American continent.

As the kwami of Secrets who is connected to the Lynx Miraculous, a bracelet, Ruufus gives his transformed wearer the special power Clairvoyance. When used, the user is able to see what cannot be seen by the naked eye for five minutes (adolescent) to ten minutes (adult).  This can be something as simple as hidden objects in pockets or walls, to knowledge of a meta’s powers, all the way down to the deepest and darkest secrets a person houses in their soul. Most frequently when used in battle, the wearers use the miraculous to see their enemy’s immediate plans and intentions.

During the Revolutionary War, Liiri and Ruufus were used to tide the battle for the American forces. Liiri was used by Gilbert du Motier to rally the men during battle. Where Ruufus was used by a man named George Washington to create battle plans and strategies using the exposed secrets of the British forces.  

Liiri returned to France with du Motier, only to end up on museum display after he passed, as she failed to be collected by the Monks thanks to the fall of the Order. Ruufus remained in America to be used by George in setting up the new independent government.

As with the Presidency, George Washington believed Ruufus should be passed on and not used by a singular man once he had accomplished what was needed for the greater good. Therefore, he had made it so a key member of the Freemason’s would inherit the kwami to be used for the betterment of American society and then passed down within the organization.

So it was for a few years, he was passed on by select members as they advanced America from colony to country. However, a member of the society had discovered him and stolen him away. He threatened to tell the world the secrets of the Freemason Society which he had learned thanks to the powers Ruufus provided. That man was named William Morgan. As often happened to those who used secrets for greed, he was permanently silenced. Not by a member as suspected by history, but someone who wanted the secrets for their own personal gain and discovered Ruufus instead.

For several decades Ruufus was passed on from one evil greedy user to the next. His powers exploited for money and power, until the day his miraculous was dropped by his user while attempting to flee, and he was picked up by a man named Jim Brandon who was on his way to the Midwest to find land to settle. What Brandon found instead was a love for adventure as he moved around the Wild West.  

Before his end, Brandon feared what would come of Ruufus if allowed to continue to pass among human hands without something like the Order to monitor. Thus, he tried what no other had done and placed the Lynx miraculous upon the paw of a bobcat who had been caught in a snare trap. Both cat and human were amazed when the kwami materialized. How whether animals could support a miraculous or it had to do with a shared lineage, has still to be retested. But Ruufus from that point, remained with the one family of bobcats; passed on from one to another, protecting them for years.

Until a hunter happened upon the den killing his wearer’s kittens and fatally injuring the mother cat. Fortunately, Alfred stumbled upon the den a short time later and the rest is history.

*Jim Brandon is a fictional person. Despite the use of real individuals and events, the story of Rufuus is completely made up!!

Chapter Text

A lone figure stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at Wayne Enterprise. A smile graced their face, but their lower lip was held captive by their teeth. Their hands pulled at the outer garments protecting them from the cold, removing their gloves and stowing them in their bag. The way their hands smoothed down their navy peacoat and then their hair reflected a concern for their appearance. They didn’t need to be though, even dressed in a plastic bag the wearer was a sight for sore eyes.  Two month’s separation could not affect how quickly I recognized the person, after all wasn’t it said children always recognized their mother?

The fake deal Bruce had sent her on became a very real and lucrative deal with Pixie leading the charge. But it had taken her longer than expected to complete. Her return date had been pushed back so many times, Marinette just stopped giving one. Today’s appearance before me was therefore a surprise, but definitely not unpleasant.

Giddy with excitement I tipped toed over to where she stood. Picking up some snow from the ledge bordering the stairs, I formed a nice round snowball with it. Cocking my arm, I aimed for her back so as to not mess up her hair, which would likely lead to my castration if ruined by my fun. Just as I was about to launch my attack, she spun quickly to face me and ducked to form her own snowball. Though her own attack was a few seconds behind mine, my snowball cleared her head and landed a few steps above her, while hers firmly collided with my chest.

“How?” I asked in amazement at both her aim and reaction time.

The tinkling sound that came from her was welcomed—much more than the snow—and sorely missed. Opening her arms, she waited for me to run up the few steps separating us and hug her.

A growth spurt had occurred during her absence, and I was now a good head length above her instead of the same height. It didn’t stop her warmth from feeling like it towered over me, all encompassing, and it did allow me to easily lift her from the ground causing her to shriek out in panic.

Her laughter wound down, “I caught sight of your shadow, it gave away your intentions.” She smiled up at me as I lowered her back to the ground. Her hands cupped my face as she studied me quickly. “You’re looking good Jayjay. What brings you here?”

Fondly rolling my eyes, I pushed her hands from my face so I could stand at my full height so she could appreciate how much I’d changed since she was in Germany. The increase in height had been matched by muscle development I was very proud of. It was already obvious I would likely be the tallest of the Waynes and was already starting to look more muscular than Dick who was leaner due to his acrobatics.

“I always look good.” I flexed, but knew my coat was hiding me more than I would have liked. “I just came from Dick’s dorm, and I was hoping to get a ride home from Bruce after showing him my first A plus in English. The real question is what are you doing here? Especially when you didn’t let anyone know you’d be back.”

“I just got in and wanted to surprise you guys.”

“At work?” I deadpanned. I looked at her as if questioning we were really going to continue playing this game, like I wasn’t aware of the reason she showed up at W.E. first and not the manor.

Marinette looked timidly at the ground; a steady blush rose to her cheeks that I was confident hadn’t developed from the cold. “I um…uh-"

To save her from her embarrassment—rather to ensure she stewed in it a little longer—I interjected. “Really Pix, I’m hurt. You really needed to come here to see Bruce first? I would have given you a minute at the manor to do your welcome kisses or whatever it is you kids do these days.”

The intensity of the pink in her cheeks increased and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. Turning away from me, Marinette made her way to the top of the stairs, me racing to catch-up and walk beside her. “I’m here to turn in my report on the acquisition and then I was going to head to the manor.”

“I may only be fifteen Pixie, but even I know that could have been done over email or tomorrow.” Winking at her, she sputtered in disbelief at my boldness. It caused me to smile at her in victory, knowing she had been caught and whatever lie she tried to come up with next would only dig her hole deeper.

“I-uh-you-what? Oh, just shut up.” Storming past me to get away from my inquisition, she made her way quickly to the elevator banks. Only reason I caught up with her, was because she’d been forced to wait for the lift.

When the doors opened, we both stepped inside, and she pulled me into a side hug. “Enough teasing please. I just got back. I want to enjoy that fact, not book the next flight out of here.”

I shut my mouth if only for the elevator ride, as I enjoyed getting to be in her embrace once more. What used to be me cuddling into her arms, was now her doing the opposite. But the feelings were all the same, coming home.

The doors to the elevator opened and we stepped onto the floor that housed Bruce’s office. Relief flooded the few faces we walked past, as if Marinette was a savior from untold hardships. Bruce’s mission had only taken the initial two weeks Superman had predicted, while Bruce was competent and capable, I knew Marinette made the office run smoothly. Her return would likely relieve a fair amount of stress. She waved to those that acknowledged her but did not stop to chat before we quickly walked through the glass doors separating her office from the rest.

Pressing a button on her desk’s phone, she buzzed Bruce’s office. “Let me just pass these papers on to Bruce and then I can take you home.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact she was still attempting to maintain the ruse that she had no intention of doing more than passing on papers. “Should we call Dick and make it a movie night?”

There had been no response to her buzzing, so Marinette pressed the button once more. “You sure he isn’t busy with school tonight?”

Dick said he had a paper to write for an econ class, but it wasn’t due till Monday, so I was confident he would happily push it back to see Marinette. But Pixie would definitely not approve of Dick procrastinating further, so I couldn’t say that. “Nah, he was basically begging me to stay earlier. Bored to death or something like that.”

Seeing right through my lie, Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Didn’t they send Bruce a temp while I was out? Where are they?” She looked around the office as if there were places within it for one to hide—spoiler alert there wasn’t.

Shrugging my shoulders, I shook my head as I wasn’t sure if Bruce was given a temp or not. I couldn’t imagine him wanting one for privacy reasons. But truthfully, I’d stayed away from the office most of the time, the whole thing wasn’t my cup of tea and when Bruce was here, he was all business anyway.

“Maybe just leave it on his desk and we can get out of here? Bruce will be home later tonight, and you can watch a flic and chill then.” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively which earned me a light tap to the back of my head. Rolling her eyes at me—again—she tried to cover the blush that formed across her cheeks by turning away.

Worth it.

From the oversized purse she deposited on her desk she pulled a red folder and moved to open Bruce’s large office door. As her body stepped into the opening it stopped, like the sound of a record scratching, and became as rigid as a marble statue.

Concerned, I moved to see around her to find what caused such a dramatic reaction. As if feeling my presence, she tried to shield Bruce’s office using her body, but my added inches made it possible to see over her shoulder and into what should have been—based on the unanswered buzzing—an empty office.

Instead, Bruce sat at his chair as one would expect to find him at this hour, but in front of him was a woman seductively sitting upon his desk, her legs crossed as her upper half leaned down into Bruce’s personal space.

Beside me, Marinette seemed to gather her composure just as the two across the room took notice of us within the small door frame. “Sorry Mr. Wayne, I didn’t know you were in. I just came to drop off the paperwork from the merger for your final approval.”

The folder with the papers—which could have easily been emailed—was lifted for the room’s occupants to witness. Instead of walking across the room to Bruce’s desk, she simply placed them on the small table situated between the chairs he used for company. Behind the desk Bruce sat as if frozen in time, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his eyes not giving away any emotions but following Marinette as she stepped back out of the room; using her body to corral me out of the door before she shut it.  

There was no need to look into her eyes to see the hurt and anger, I felt them too for her. She moved quickly to her desk and collected her belongings. It took longer than it should have with the way her hands were shaking.

Not sure what to say, I remained quiet beside her. Whatever we had just witness had not been good. What reason could a woman be sitting on Bruce’s desk like that without him putting a stop to it? Had Marinette truly meant so little to him?

Trying her best to appear unaffected, Marinette cracked her neck, pulled back her shoulders, and lifted her chin as she beckoned me. “Come on Jayjay, maybe we-”

Her words were cut short when Bruce’s door opened, and the temptress sauntered out. Her brown hair was cut short, and she used a fair amount of product to control the natural curls. Her olive-green eyes zeroed in on Marinette but not with the jealousy most women did. No, they looked at her mockingly, like she had been victorious in a game I’m sure Marinette nor I was aware was being played.

When she sat at Marinette’s desk it was obvious she was the temp Marinette had been questioned the whereabouts of. Though it was not obvious as her attire was not what I would have thought appropriate or appreciated by Bruce for someone in her position. Her skintight dress left nothing to the imagination with how her shoulders were exposed and her chest, which was quite ample, was pushed forward so someone’s first introduction was to her rack and not her face. The only redeeming part of her outfit was the length. The slit along it made it possible for her to walk but also high enough to see her…

“Sorry about that.” Her words were overly articulated as a way to punctuate them, creating a unique cadence to her almost accented speech. “I would suggest knocking next time. Mr. Wayne likes to be informed before someone enters his office. There are things he does, others do not need to be privy to.” The woman’s smile spread in a way that left no need to interpret what she suggested Bruce did.

Marinette’s eyes blew wide in surprise, my own likely having done similar with a heavy dose of bile in my throat. Had the notorious Brucie—I’d heard so much about—reappeared in Marinette’s short two-months absence?

Getting over her shock quickly, Marinette squared her shoulders and turned to face her replacement. “Having worked for Mr. Wayne for almost two years now, I am very well versed in his preferences and his reputation. I buzzed him twice before entering, but I guess you were far too busy with your…collaterals to notice. My own advice since it seems to be a day of giving, next time you might want to persuade Mr. Wayne to save the things no one should be privy to…for after work hours.”

The steel present in her voice through the whole statement had my stomach drop. English was my favorite and best subject; I could read between the lines quite easily. Bruce had gone and f’ed up. Whatever this was, just ruined any chance of the family Dick and I longed for.  

Bruce’s office door opened for a second time and the man of the hour walked out. The temp’s smile promised things I’d heard about in the locker room, while Marinette schooled her face to appear the exact opposite as the epitome of professional. Me, I glared at him with everything I possessed and more.

The mixed reception clearly unsettled Bruce as he took a second to look at each of us before he continued moving towards Marinette’s desk. “Marinette, I need to apologize. What you just walked in on is not-”

Marinette’s hand lifted to halt Bruce’s words, he swallowed, and I could tell he was preparing himself for the lashing Marinette was about to serve.

“No need to apologize Mr. Wayne. I should not have entered your office without permission directly from you to prevent such interruptions to your business.” Her voice was far too calm to the point of being upsetting. No hints of embarrassment, heartbreak, or promised retribution, despite all three being justifiable.

“But-”

“I will be sure to follow such practice when I return. I simply came to give you the paperwork for the merger and to let you know I will be taking the rest of the week off before returning. I need a personal break after all the work I had to do in Germany. I hope you understand.”

“Marinette, I—”

“Please don’t Mr. Wayne. I truly do need this break.” Marinette sighed, as if the pressure of the world suddenly lifted from her shoulders and she could finally feel true exhaustion creeping in.

“I’m sure your temp will happily continue in her role in whatever capacity you require during my absence.” She turned to the woman in question and looked for confirmation, with a single nod and a knowing smile it was given.

“Marinette, please.” Bruce begged, his hand almost seeming to reach out towards her, but it settled for dangling at his side when she stepped back to increase the distance between them.

“Dupain-Chang if you do not mind. I see now what happens when professional lines are allowed to be crossed.” Her eyes flicked over towards the woman at her desk, who did not appear to be insulted by the insinuation at all, but rather proud.

Without allowing herself to hear any more of Bruce’s protest she turned from the office and walked out the glass door. Looking at the woman one last time, I then looked at Bruce and shook my head in disappointment. Staring at him for a few seconds, I hoped I could find an explanation, but there wasn’t one. Bruce’s own head lowered in shame, but the damage was done no matter how he felt now he’d been caught.

If this was how it was, my side was easily chosen as I quickly followed Marinette out of Wayne Enterprises.

A quick text was sent to Dick as we walked the distance to her apartment. I prayed I was not wrong, and he was willing to procrastinate on the econ paper just a little bit longer. ‘SOS. Meet at Marinette’s,’ would likely do the trick. I just had to hope he would arrive unsuited considering the vagueness of my message.

When her building appeared before us some while later, Dick could be seen pacing by the front door. Upon seeing us, he raced across the street dodging a handful of cars before picking Marinette up off her feet into a bear hug despite her protest. The hug lasted longer than usual—which with Dick was uncommonly long to begin with—which proved her body language was reflecting her distress that was easily picked up. For once she didn’t act strong in front of us and wrapped her arms around him as she silently allowed herself to break down into sobs, quieted by Dick’s shoulder.

Shocked by her actions, Dick’s eyes bulged as he looked down at the person we both saw as our mother figure. His hand came to rest against the back of her head, as he closed his eyes and squeezed her body in closer, trying to imitate the hugs she so often gave. When he opened his eyes again they sought me out before mouthing the words, ‘what happened?’

Unable to explain succinctly in any fashion, I shook my head and gestured towards the building. There was no way I would force Marinette to have to relive the clearly heartbreaking scene and so Dick would just have to wait.

Placing her back on her feet, Dick looked down at her and tried to hide his concern, willing to pretend she had not been crying in his arms for her sake. “Missed you.”

Marinette smiled through her tears and despite what just transpired it was as bright and warm as usual. “Missed you more. Come on, Jason and I were just about to have a movie night. Care to join?”

“Clearly why I’m here.” Dick stated as his hand guided her forward into the apartment building and out of the cold.

While nothing was said as we made our way up to her apartment, Dick offered comfort for the situation he knew nothing about by slinging his arm around her shoulder. When we finally stepped in front of her door, she pulled away to open it.

Walking right in, she deposited her keys and purse right on the floor, missing the entryway table. Without a word, she moved directly to her closet and pulled out some sweatpants and sweatshirt before heading into the bathroom.

Remembering herself at the last moment she turned to find the two of us still frozen by her odd behavior at the front door.

“Mind if I just take a quick shower?”

Our heads shook in the negative to her question, and she disappeared behind the door. When the sound of the shower turning on broke the silence, Dick closed the front door, then quickly spun on his heels to face me.

There was panic in his expression. Panic I felt as well, she had seemed unusually calm considering the circumstances when we first left the office. Upon seeing Dick, she had broken down. Now she seemed almost comatose. Each stage was concerning for different reasons, and I knew I didn’t have any experience to even begin to offer advice on ways to overcome it. It was like a girl’s period, you hear about it, but seeing in action is scary and overwhelming.

“What happened?”

God, I did not know where to begin. What happened was pretty straight forward but why and what now were the ultimate questions. “Puh. After I left yours, I went to W.E. like we talked about. I met Pixie by the door.”

“When did she get back?...Why was she there?” I looked at him in a way that said, if you’d let me finish. “Right, sorry.”

“She just got back and guess who she wanted to see first?” Dick opened his mouth to reply, but it was meant to be a rhetorical question, “I think we can both be assured something had finally happened between the two before Bruce sent her to Germany.”

“So, what happened to make her so upset?”

“When she opened his door, his temp was sitting on his desk.”

The skin between Dick’s eyes pinched in confusion, the way I worded it had seemed innocent enough, but the underlining meaning was all there. His eyes began to move quickly as if trying to solve a puzzle, causing my own eyes to roll as it should have been easy to connect the dots for such a ‘great detective.”

“Really Dick, are you that obtuse?” His short protest to my statement was thoroughly ignored. “She wasn’t between his legs, but from the way she was sitting it was only a matter of time.”

Dick rarely got angry; he often chose to hide his emotions behind a bright smile. But at that moment, from the tone of his voiced words, “What was Bruce doing?” I feared Bruce might get flayed alive.

“Honestly, I didn’t get the greatest look at him before they noticed us. More focused on her and not him, but I didn’t see his hands move or anything like he’d been touching her. But that also means I didn’t see him pushing her away. He was clearly letting her do whatever it was she was doing.”

Closing his eyes, Dick took a deep breath to temper his anger. “Trust Bruce to mess up.”

I would have used a stronger word to describe what Bruce did, but I was the only one Alfred hadn’t been able to get to stop cursing.

“I’m sure she thinks B sent her to Germany so he could string her along while galivanting with the new PA…What did she do in response?”

“Pixie? Took the rest of the week off.”

“Fudge.” Almost the word I would have used. Dick’s hands began to run through his hair as his eyes stared into space. “Okay, okay. Well, she hasn’t quit, so we don’t have to worry about her leaving yet.”

“Yet…What?” I questioned, not processing what he was suggesting.

The idea of her leaving Gotham because of this never crossed my mind. Why would she, I mean maybe Bruce was doing something with the temp but was that enough of a reason for her to leave. There were so many reasons for her to stay. Like me, Dick, Alfred, and me.

“No little bird, I doubt she’d leave. After all she loves us. But… if she quits her job, I don’t know if she could afford to stay.”

“Why would she quit?” A part of me knew why, but the rest wanted to pretend to be naïve. Ignorant because if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t happen, right?

Dick went to sit on the couch and found his hands clasped together and tapping on his legs. The speed at which his hands hit increased before it exploded, and his hands came to grab at the air and shake at the world as if questioning why.

“When Marinette first came here, Bruce introduced her to Brucie the very first day to set expectations.” Ah Brucie, hated the man already. “I think it kind of spoiled her impression of him and Bruce worked really hard to overcome the negative persona and fix it. It’s how, despite my own bias feelings about Mari, I knew she and Bruce should be together.”

Dick’s hands dragged down his face and he growled angerly. “I’m not sure what happened today from Bruce’s perspective, but it sounds like whether it was just another cover or something more, Marinette saw Brucie again. Considering I think we’re right something happened before Germany, the fact Marinette likely perceives Bruce was with someone else after her, will make the working environment very, very awkward.”

“You think she’ll quit and then leave?”

Only being three years older, Dick’s life experience wasn’t much more than my own, yet I looked at him as if he had thirty years more. There was a pressure I was putting on his shoulders to reassure me before I spiraled down the dark hole of my mind at the possibilities that came with Pixie leaving us.

“Without talking to Bruce, I’m not really sure what you stumbled upon and if it can be explained away as innocent.” Dick looked down at his hands as they turned into fist. “From the sounds of it, I’m not sure it was. So, yea, she might use the next few days to decide what she wants to do before she returns to work on Monday.”

Running my own hands through my hair and grabbing at the roots in frustration, I growled at the situation. My time with Bruce had been limited, less than a year in total, but I thought I knew of the kind of moral man Bruce was. How could someone who went out and risked his life against morally corrupt individuals be guilty of one of the most heartbreaking crimes of all—cheating. Sure, they weren’t in a relationship, but everyone knew—even themselves—the title was just a formality.  

“You think Bruce has been going out with this woman behind Marinette’s back?”

“I don’t know Little Wing, he hasn’t mentioned anything, but I doubt he would knowing how fond we are of Mari…But, now that I think about it I can’t shake the feeling...”

Feeling, what was he talking about? This moment was supposed to be when he reassured me there was no way. Marinette was great, no one could compete against her, no one but maybe Ladybug. There was no way this woman was Ladybug. Right? She’d been on a mission in China just after Batman returned from space, and we hadn’t seen her for over a month either.

Now I’d thought it, I couldn’t shake maybe Bruce thought he found the civilian Ladybug. But really? No way! That woman didn’t carry herself at all like Ladybug. There was confidence, sure, but her interactions with Bruce were too minx like, they missed the awkward, one-of-a-kind flirting. Ladybug definitely wasn’t vindictive either, that woman took a sick pleasure in knowing she caused Marinette pain. “No way?”

Not hearing my internal thoughts, Dick thought I was responding to his feeling. “Tell me if I’m wrong, about a week after he returned did you notice his behavior change?”

Yes. Movie nights continued despite Marinette’s absence, but they weren’t as lively, he often left halfway through the movie. The time he spent at the office decreased to spend more time in the cave, once again I chalked it up to Marinette’s absence. Just like him becoming more closed off was due to Pixie not being there to pry him open.

“I guess, he suggested you and I pair off more than usual.” I finally conceded to the one fact I couldn’t explain away as caused by Marinette.

“Exactly. It made sense when I was Batman, and he was gone. But we’ve been teamed up more often than not. I never complained because I love the time with you, especially since I don’t get to see you as often.”

“Eww, don’t go getting all mushy on me.”

Dick took me in his arms and gave me one of his patented big brother side hugs to break the growing tension in the room. But as soon as I began to take comfort from it, he pulled away.

“I never stopped to think about the motivation behind it, or rather who.”

“What are we going to do?” I had just convinced myself things were good; I was finally apart of a family that wouldn’t abandon me.

Jason Todd, the street kid, no longer needed to exist; I could have been free of descriptors that were assigned to me based on circumstances and not who I actually was. I wanted to be Jason, the second Robin, so I was. I wanted to be Jason Todd-Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s son, so I was. I wanted to be Jayjay, Marinette’s pseudo son, so I was.

Was it possible to be any of those things anymore if the stability in my life disappeared? Was I destined to be Jason Todd, street kid, forever? Or worse, Jason Todd, the criminal?

“Like good detective’s we need to gather all the evidence before we pass judgement.”

That was something I wasn’t sure I could do. The truth was something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. What would be at the end of the trail we followed into Bruce’s new love life? Even if by some miracle this was a misunderstanding, would Marinette already be gone by the time we figured it out?

“Marinette is going to leave and I’m going to be left a street kid again.”

Dick rolled his eyes and looked at me like I was being dramatic, but I wasn’t kidding. “Bruce will still be there; I’ll still be here.”

“He’s already abandoning me as Robin to be with this woman when he’s Batman. How long until he abandons me as Bruce? Things are going better at school but how long until I get in trouble and he’s not there to help because he’s playing tonsil hockey with the temp?”

Dick snorted a little and I shot daggers in his direction, nothing about this felt like a laughing matter. “No, Little Wing he would never abandon you like that.”

It was a strong sentiment, and one up to a couple hours ago I would have believed. But Dick was right, we’d been patrolling together far too often as Nightwing and Robin when it was supposed to be Batman and Robin. I was supposed to be Batman’s sidekick so he could teach me everything he knew. Dick was great—don’t get me wrong—but he’d only been doing this for a little longer than me.

“Hasn’t he already?”

Looking at Dick, I schooled my expression to shut down my flaring emotions, I’d been vulnerable enough after today’s discovery. The score was now known, perhaps it wasn’t me but a shinier toy to play with that caused Bruce to abandon me, but I’d always known there would come a day I’d be on the outs.

At least now I had time to prepare for it because I could see it coming. Guess I should head back to the garage soon.  

Chapter Text

There is truth to the saying your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. Unfortunately, the life that flashed before mine wasn’t one that really made me want to keep living.

Starting with the knowledge the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally, more than themselves, never could and never would. My mother—birth mother that is—who I didn’t know existed until this week, left me with my criminal father when I was just a newborn and then just recently sold me out to the Joker. Then the woman I always thought to be my mother, took me in without question, but I wasn’t enough to stop her from finding solace in drugs when my father turned out to be an abusing asshole. And daddy dearest was in and out of prison before he passed, money being his personal vice that had him selling his soul to one of the many Gotham mob bosses.

Funny, my father became a criminal in hopes of raking in the dough, yet there was only enough money to continue my mother’s drug habits—which were bought from his boss—and to keep a dingy roof over our heads. A roof that quickly disappeared with their deaths, making the streets my home for longer than I ever had a roof over top.

For years—more than any kid should have to, the unfortunate story for far too many of Gotham’s children—hunger, cold, hiding, fighting, stealing, and protecting weren’t momentary states of existence, but constants for me. Meals came when I could steal them. Hiding and fighting happened to keep myself from having to fight for others. Protecting the weak, when the glaring reality was my strength was an illusion that would fold when truly tested.  

Then in a blink of an eye I was offered a different life, or so I was manipulated to believe. Truth, I’d become my father. He became a minion for the criminal underworld to make money, only to give the money right back for drugs, an endless circle. Me? I’d become a minion to a vigilante to find justice for the wrongs of Gotham. Just like my father, where the money was never truly his, the justice I found was never really mine. I gave Batman his justice so that he could have it and his cake—or in this case, cat—too.

Bruce offered me a home without a leaking roof, a chance to not worry where my next meal would come from, a proper education not built from classes I could sneak into. All it came with was the expectation to fill two roles. Turned out I wasn’t a very good minion.

Bruce Wayne’s son was a notorious fighter at school because he was constantly getting bullied for where he came from. Teachers thought less of him because his school records were nonexistent, so of course he had to be dumb. The first gala I attended will likely never be forgotten. In case I ever do forget, the events are memorialized on the front page of the Gotham Gazette.

And Robin…don’t get me started.

Actually, let’s get started evaluating just how successful I was at being him.

This week alone, it had been going great.

Best week of my life.

Found out my pseudo dad was cheating on my pseudo mom with his temporary personal assistant. Talk about cliché. Turned out he was dropping me off with my older brother so he could hide it from us, instead of doing the vigilante work he claimed was so important.  

Fun times.

Naturally, I could not stand the idea of being in his presence till I could calm down. Which let’s be honest was going to happen probably never, so I’d been couch surfing between Pixie’s and Dick’s place as I avoided both Bruce and Batman.

You’d think someone who considered me his ‘son,’ would try and call to figure out what had happened, where I was, what I was doing. I have a cellphone after all—top of the line too. But no, radio silence. I’d like to say I was surprised, but once the wool was removed from my eyes there wasn’t much left to surprise me.

To make matters worse, as I was trying to stay out of Dick’s hair—because a college student shouldn’t have to babysit a highschooler—and Marinette’s—because it wasn’t healthy to mope around together non-stop—I’d discovered some guys in the underground talking about my mother. Not Catherine Todd, no, my mom is actually Shelia Haywood.

Who knew?

Not me.

Imagine my surprise when I followed the leads to her whereabouts to find out she’s working for none-other than the Joker, who hoped to kidnap me—Jason Todd Wayne—for ransom. Ironically, he got me, but as Robin. And the Joker was more concerned about riling up the Dark Knight by killing his sidekick, than even bothering to possibly figure out his identity by unmasking me. We all knew half of his fun was the games he got to play with Batman, so of course he wouldn’t worry about a silly thing like identities.

Guess it shouldn’t really matter because death was knocking, and very shortly I was going to have to answer the door.

Just like that, the replay of my short life stopped, and I was brought back to the present by the crowbar Joker had been using all night. This time the hit was across my face, the searing pain was extreme, and I could barely lift my head to meet the Joker’s smile. He hit me like it was an interrogation, waiting between swings for an answer to a question that was never asked. Or he just liked to watch me as the pain and reality of my situation increased with every hit.

It was slow, it was gruesome, and no one knew I was here to come and save me.

The metal rod once more came down. This time against my right arm, which was already broken telling from the unnatural way it hung. The amplified pain spread through my body, but it was momentary as it almost seemed to settle in with the pain already radiating everywhere else. My vision became hazy as the details of the room came in and out of focus, likely a result of the concussion and blood loss I was sure I was suffering from. A loss of consciousness was close to becoming inevitable and it was taking everything I had to not give in to the call just to make it all stop.

It would not stop the Joker though, nothing but death would. A consolation perhaps in the long run, as I wouldn’t know the exact moment when death would claim me.

One more hit to my chest causing another broken rib, and I knew I was about to die when I experienced something they don’t talk about—likely because those who experience it are no longer able to talk. A large white circle outlined in blue appeared in my vision, I figured it was the doorway to heaven and thought I should rise to walk through it. But my body was still broken and didn’t even budge despite my mind telling it to. So, I figured I’d just wait for an angel to come and pick me up.

That angel happened to look a lot like Lady Noire, but if she was eaten by a snake. The suit was mostly black with teal green accents and mask. The woman—or so I assumed—wore a hood reflective of a cobra’s, her black hair playfully teased into two low pigtails that just peeked out of it. Just a quick glance and I knew my transport wasn’t taking me to heaven, snakes were associated with somewhere else.

The demon stepped out of the portal, and I was surprised to find the Joker turning to acknowledge their presence. Maybe I wasn’t the only one taking a ride downtown. When her eyes locked with the clown, I could tell she was visibly shaking with anger, and I couldn’t help but feel it justifiable. Surely, she ran across some of the greatest scum the world and history had to offer, Joker seemed just like the type to be up there with them.

“Did someone else come to play?” The Joker surprisingly looked excited at the new arrival, no fear for how or why she suddenly appeared. Figured he would be one of the few people on Earth that would get sick enjoyment out of trying to best the demon who was here to drag him to hell.

The snake demon placed her hand to her wrist to flick at the bracelet upon it. “Second chance.”

It didn’t sound like a question but for some reason I felt the need to answer it before the world went black around me.

“Yes please.”

The first thing I noticed was excruciating pain throughout my body when my consciousness returned. Perhaps my particular form of hell was knowing the pain inflicted upon me at my death for all eternity. But, then the second thing I noticed was how it was beginning to lesson. So much so, I felt I could open my eyelids and possibly move around. Not wanting to see hell just yet, I went to test my arm, but as I tried lifting the once broken limb a pressure was immediately placed on it preventing me.

“Hold still. I’m not done yet.” The voice was so familiar I wasn’t sure I was hearing it correctly. Did the snake thing take the voice of a person of comfort to help with the transition? It would be cruel to have a Lady Noir, snake, demon thingy, acting as my guide to hell. 

Testing my eyes, I hoped to see the cat hero looking back at me and not the demon, instead, it was her beetle alter ego. Ladybug was leaning over me, a bright pink glow illuminating from her hands as they moved across my body. Where they hovered, I could feel the pain leaving, not completely, but in a way that I was aware my life was no longer in danger.

“What are you doing?” My voice croaked as if deprived of water. My torture had been going on for some time before the snake showed; screaming at the top of my lungs in pain and desire for rescue until I didn’t have the energy or will to continue, so no surprise there.

“Healing you, what do you think I’m doing?” She said it teasingly, but I could tell from her expression she was trying to lighten the mood to mask over her concern. I closed my eyes again as she continued to work, the pain was still a little overbearing, and I was focused instead on not getting sick from the intensity.

Eventually, the pain became manageable, and I opened my eyes once more. “That should do for now. We should get you back to Batman so you can rest. I took care of all the internal bleeding and broken bones, but you won’t be fully healed for a while. It takes more energy than I can offer in a single session to heal you completely. I’m sorry Robin.”

“Are you kidding? You saved my life. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” Ladybug looked at me miserably and I knew she was hiding something. I sat up and looked around trying to figure out what it was.

We were alone in the room, and nothing seemed out of sorts considering what had just occurred within it. All except a small pile of ashes that didn’t belong against its backdrop. “Where’s Joker?”

“I cataclysmed him.” Her voice was cold and sounded emotionless, but her eyes had a spark of anger, hatred and maybe regret.

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“I wouldn’t normally advise it, but he had it coming.” Surprised at her admission, my eyes grew wide as I took her statement in. I would have never pegged Ladybug as the type to end someone, but I was grateful it was him and not me.

“What happened? Was it you that saved me?”

Ladybug moved off of her knees and came to a sitting position beside me, helping me lift into a similar position. There was pain in the movement, but I now knew what real pain was like and found this form of it laughable. When we were resettled into our new positions her posture collapse on itself, her shoulder sagged as if the weight of the evening was more than she cared to hold.

“I didn’t save you?” I puffed some air from my mouth in disbelief readying myself to argue with her once more but didn’t voice it when she glared out into the distance. “Not initially. There is a kwami that has the ability to go through time that I’ve set up with a permanent holder to act as a safety valve. After learning of your death and knowing your importance to me, they came and got me.”

The bile that had been happily sitting in my throat rose to my mouth and I struggled to swallow it back down.

I had died.

I had actually died, and Ladybug had traveled through time to change my fate.  I felt loved at that moment but also unworthy. After all, I had put myself in that position.

“I merged with the Snake Miraculous that allows its wielder to go back to the same ten minutes in time as needed. I won’t lie, there were quite a few renditions of Joker’s last ten minutes.” Her head fell into her hands, and she whimpered softly. “I’m sorry Robin, I should have been paying more attention to you. I’ve been going through some of my own stuff and failed to be there for you when you needed me the most.”

I sprung from my position despite the lingering injuries and wrapped my hero in my arms. “LB, I’d been dealing with somethings and decided to go at this alone. It was stupid and immature. I died tonight because I did something I knew better than. If you didn’t have the powers you do at your disposal, the Joker would have won. If you didn’t care enough about me, I wouldn’t be here. Don’t feel bad.”

It took a second, but her arms wrapped around me and for a few minutes we sat in silence just holding each other as we processed the evenings events. Ladybug—or as I preferred her Lady Noire—had easily become my superhero mom. I had learned so much from Batman and Nightwing, but Lady Noire was my support, my comfort, and my cheerleader. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed her presence while she was in China because I was having some good bonding moments with Nightwing. Now being in her presence, I understood just how much she meant to me.

“Why weren’t you here with Nightwing or Batman?” Her question was innocent enough, but it was almost said as if rhetorical.  Which I kind of wished it was, I honestly didn’t want to admit the truth to her, I’d disappointed so many people in my life, including her. Didn’t need to pile on more reasons to think less of me.

“Robin?” Pulling away from our hug, Ladybug held me out so that she could look at my face properly. I didn’t give her the satisfaction as I continued to look away. “Robin, please tell me. I promise I won’t judge.”

“I’m not happy with Batman, so I’ve been avoiding him this week.” I finally looked up at her, expecting to find her judging me. Her head however was nodding, and her lips were twisted as if she understood.

“What about Nightwing?”

“I didn’t want to be a bother; I feel like I have been all week. So, I just went out on my own.”

“Did anyone know you were out?” Shaking my head, she released a deep sigh.

“We should probably talk about this more, but I think it’s been a long night. Let’s get you back to Batman and home.” Coming to stand, she held her hand out to assist me.

At the prospect of returning to the one place I didn’t want to go, I hesitated in taking her hand. “Why do I have to go home with Batman? I can make my way home alone.”

“Yea, not happening.” She chuckled and mussed up my hair, taking the front strand of it and twirling it through her fingers. “There are many injuries I didn’t get to heal and I’m sure Batman can ensure you get the best care. For that to happen we need to make sure you get there in one piece.”

The idea of returning to Bruce and having to tell him what had occurred didn’t interest me in the least. Still, Alfred was one of the best medics and my body was still hurting. Tomorrow, I’d slip out and head back to Marinette’s to get some of her special ointment for the bruises. Probably against my better judgement, I didn’t care what she would think of the bruises she might find.

Following Ladybug was slow, she offered me a ride, but even injured my pride wouldn’t allow me to be carried. Every time I extended during a dive the pain was intense, Ladybug had healed my bones, but I was still beaten. Part of me was glad she didn’t completely heal me; the pain was a reminder of my near-death experience—actually a reminder of my death—my stupidity. I’d gotten too lost in my emotions and stepped outside of what I knew was logical because Bruce had made me feel less than. This was a lesson to help me reevaluate the way I did things, I would never make the same mistake again.

Batman’s tracker had him on a roof close to the W.E. building. Ladybug landed on the far side without a sound, my landing was nowhere near as graceful, nor mute. Stepping up behind me, Ladybug placed her hand to my shoulder and the pink light once again illuminated around me, immediately it felt immensely better. The strain on it during our trip almost had me collapsing towards the end and luckily Ladybug had noticed and had a little more magic to spare for me.

According to the readouts Batman was on the other side of the building, Ladybug went first. I followed behind, not looking forward to the reunion that had been put off for a week. It was childish to stay away from Bruce, but that was what I was. An academically intelligent, street-smart, well trained in combat…child, who was having a disagreement with their parent. At least I had the excuse of being a child to explain my lack of contact, I wondered what excuse Bruce was going to use. Especially in front of Ladybug, his hero crush who just saved me, not him.

Unlike the last time I was greeted by the similar sight, as we rounded the corner I didn’t have to look around the woman in front of me to see it. Instead, I had a fully exposed view of the spectacle.

Across the distance, not realizing their privacy had been compromised, Batman and a woman I hopefully was correctly identifying as Catwoman—this time—were wrapped around each other. Maybe around each other was a little bit of a stretch, but there was no denying that the cat looked more like a koala the way she was wrapped around him. In turn, Batman stood motionless, his arms crossed at his chest, his body language showing that he wasn’t necessarily enjoying the attention, but he was not trying to get the woman off. Even as her finger traced the lines of his cowl and proceeded to find its way to his chest moving lower and lower.

Suspecting something created certain kinds of emotion about what you suspect. But the way you felt when your suspicions were confirmed was different. Then the emotions were stronger, rawer, cutting deeper to ensure they lasted longer. Batman was using his time away from me to get with his temporary PA, confirmed. Worse yet, that PA was the villainous Catwoman if the similar behavior and embrace were to go off of.

Catwoman’s hands pull Batman’s face towards her, and they were seconds away from their mouths disgustingly embracing when Ladybug cleared her throat. The noise caused Batman to lean back, leading Catwoman to stumble as her support moved away. Collecting himself, Batman moved to shorten the distance between us, Catwoman following closely behind. Turning his head back he glared at the villain following him, but it did not deter her movements.

My head turned to look at Ladybug to determine how she felt. First Marinette, and now Ladybug, I was under no illusion both had felt a connection with Bruce—Batman—and here he f-ed up a shot with both. All for what, a woman who could do no better than to throw herself at him. I couldn’t understand the appeal, but maybe I just young and able to control my head and not have it be led around by a smaller appendage—who knows. To my astonishment, Ladybug did not appear surprised nor hurt, she looked angry, but I could tell it was not from a place of jealousy. That or she hid it remarkably better than Marinette did.

“Ladybug, you’re back?” Batman said with what I thought might be excitement in his voice. Hopeful even.

Man, I thought Bruce sometimes had a hard time reading a room, but this topped the cake. Did he truly not understand the scene we just walked in on. Did he think Ladybug thought so lowly of herself she would be with someone who happily had sidepieces? The women Brucie attracted might have been willing, I would bet Catwoman, from the looks of things, was included on that list. But even I knew, Ladybug was an all or nothing kind of gal and today she was definitely going to go with nothing.

“I come and go as needed. Tonight, I was needed here. Now I know why.” Instantly I noticed the return of a thicker French accent, something I had failed to notice the absence of when we were back in the warehouse.

“Sorry?” Though the upper half of his face was not visible, Batman’s confusion was evident. Catwoman took it as an opportunity to rewrap her body around him. This time however his hands firmly constrained her movement, pulling her off him while not removing his gaze from Ladybug.

Beside me, I swore I heard the spotted hero growl, the first sign of emotion to the situation occurring. The cause? Debatable.

“I would never wish to give other heroes advice on how to be a better hero unsolicited. But after the night we just had, I feel like it’s justified. Having been someone on the receiving end of such behavior” Ladybug waved at Catwoman who was still attempting to attach herself to Batman, “I can attest it is a distraction and should be left at home.”

Batman stepped forward with the intention of defending himself no doubt, but Ladybug raised her hand to stop both his movement and mouth. “If you choose to have a young partner, you are responsible for them. If you can’t keep away from your hook-ups long enough to do that, it might be time to find ventures other than vigilantism to fill the void in your life. Tonight, you almost lost your son because of the activities you decided to engage in.” She chuckled, but it lacked humor. “Guess I should not be surprised as you have yet to even acknowledge the state he is in.”

What little color was visible on Batman’s face drained, as he finally looked to find me disheveled. My uniform was in tatters, covered in the meal I had before I followed my mother, fortunately still maintaining my modesty. There was dried blood everywhere, signs of the many lacerations and bruises present that Ladybug could not heal. I stood slightly to the left as one of my ribs was sore enough to cause me to favor it.

No mirror necessary to know I looked like a zombie.

“What happened?” he growled.

“Oh, now you care. Robin almost became the permanent victim of the Joker. I was too late as it was, and he was beaten to an inch of his life.”

Catwoman came to stand in front of the open mouthed, shocked, Batman. “The little bird looks alright to me. Being a little dramatic don’t you think.”

At that moment I was grateful to have Ladybug standing beside me and not Lady Noire. The death count for the day was already high enough and didn’t need to be added to.

Looking right at Batman, Ladybug gave him a glare that caused him to shrink in on himself.

“Really?” she asked him, referring to the woman he chose to keep company with.

She turned her attention back to the cat and if she was Lady Noire, Catwoman would have known what real claws felt like. “My powers allow me to heal wounds, if Robin here was to take off his top you would see the damage done by the clown’s crowbar. The extent of the torture he inflicted was more than I could heal at once. But please, please tell me about dramatics.”

“You’re a second-rate thief—” Catwoman opened her mouth to protest the label, but Ladybug wasn’t done, “—who is caught more times than not. Yet here you are, Ms. Dramatic, in a skin-tight suit begging to be ogled and praised for a job poorly done. If you were half as good as you thought, people would know your calling card and not what you look like. You give true cats a bad name.”

“I should scratch your eyes out.” Catwoman lunged at Ladybug but was stopped by the strong grip of Batman.

“You should really get your cat on leash or house train perhaps. I remember you once told me, I would not wish to be associated with the likes of her. I now know exactly what you mean, too bad you couldn’t take your own advice. I came here tonight not for this, but to ensure the rest of Robin’s injuries could be tended to and he could be looked after. I can see now that you are otherwise detained and we shall let you get back to it.”

Turning away before either could protest, she was about to step away when Batman collected himself. “What happened to Joker?”

Ladybug didn’t move, didn’t flinch, her emotions were as void across her face and body, as Batman’s often were. “There is nothing left of him but ashes.”

“He’s dead?”

“That is what is usually implied when one says there is nothing but ashes.”

“You had no right to kill him. You are not judge, jury, and executioner. I cannot allow such heroes to operate in my city.”

Ladybug didn’t turn to acknowledge Batman, “it was either your son or the Joker. There was no other way…Trust me I tried several times. Each time, the Joker got his final swing in that ended Robin’s life. By the fifteenth iteration I was done, and I made a decision that I can live with knowing Robin is still alive.”

Without a word she guided me with the light touch of her hand towards the end of the roof. I knew better than to protest at that moment, not that she said or did anything I myself would not have.  Flicking her yoyo towards one of the distant buildings, she grabbed me around my waist. She paused briefly and looked over her shoulder one last time. “Oh, Robin will be fine…I’ll make sure of it.”

Jumping from the ledge without waiting for a response, we flew away from Batman and his cat.

I didn’t pay attention to where we were, not even when she released me as we landed on an apartment balcony. The emotions that had been bubbling under the surface from the interaction with Batman flared and a poor chair became the victim of my fist as I began to strike it over, and over, and over again.

Ladybug came from behind to wrap her arms around me, stopping me from vandalizing the building further. “Jayjay, you need to stop.”

The act had me breaking down. It had finally happened; I had officially been abandoned by Batman and would have been left for dead if not for Ladybug. With the confirmation of something occurring between Bruce and his temp, there was no chance of a reconciliation with Marinette. Which meant she would quit, and I would be back on the street before the end of the winter.

The realization I was in someone’s lap being rocked came gradually, almost as slowly as the realization Ladybug had not called me Robin, but Jayjay. A nickname that was reserved for one person, the person whose balcony I now recognized we were on.

“Marinette?” Looking at her, she smiled solemnly like she was not surprised I’d connected the dots. “How long have you known?”

“That you were Robin? Always. That the Wayne’s are the Bat family? Since Dick. His acrobatic skills are rather unique. The first night he debuted I observed him out of my window, I connected the dots and have kept an eye on all of you since.”

“How?” The question was rhetorical as I looked at her, amazed that she had kept her two personas secret despite being so close to both sets of ours and knowing about them. I was confident neither Bruce nor Dick suspected anything, I certainly didn’t. Marinette had developed a civilian persona that made her endearing, strong but in different ways than Ladybug, so you would never suspect them to be one in the same, even though the things that made them, them, could be seen clearly in both.

The strong French accent for Ladybug finally made sense, just an additional layer to separate the two. Making us believe she was still operating mostly out of Paris. Ignoring the injuries and taking our lame excuses was her knowing the truth and not addressing it. The mysterious ointment that worked magic was likely lotion mixed with her actual magic.

I pulled at my face as if I could remove my own stupidity. One of the world’s greatest detectives right here!

“What now? I can’t exactly head back to the manor tonight, too many questions I don’t want to answer.”

“It’s up to you. My couch is always open as long as you’re honest about your whereabouts and don’t go out as Robin without letting someone know. I broke a couple rules tonight and I can’t risk doing it again. The timeline has likely changed now Joker is gone and that can have a multitude of ramifications both good and bad.”

Nodding my head, I acknowledged my part in causing so much trouble. At least now I had an idea of what I needed to do. “The second Robin is dead, he died at the hands of the Joker tonight.”

Maybe Batman didn’t have an idea of where I was because I had not told him, but the entire week he didn’t bother trying to figure it out. For at least the last month he had abandoned Robin with Nightwing so he could carry on a liaison on the rooftops. Catwoman was more important to Batman, just like drugs were for Catherine, freedom for Shelia and crime for dear old Willis. I’d never come first and continued to suffer the consequences of that fact.

Though Jason Todd was alive right now, I figured the fifteen deaths Robin had experienced tonight were a sign to let the sleeping dog lie. Batman had abandoned me, saying it enough times through the week hadn’t made it feel real until this moment. I could never go back to being his sidekick or partner.

“I could always pair you with a miraculous. In fact, I know one that might suit you perfectly.” Marinette offered taking my face in her hands to wipe at the tears that began to fall.

“I can’t. You’ve created this cover for yourself. If I took a miraculous, Bruce would know and then I’d let something slip that gave you away. I couldn’t risk your identity to Batman like that…I’m going to guess you don’t want him to figure you out?”

“That would be preferable. I suppose you’re right; he would make the connection eventually. With you needing to eventually go home, he’d figure out real fast I am based in Gotham.”

“What—no I don’t need to go back to the manor.” My protest was silenced by Ladybug’s finger.

“I’d love for you to stay, but Bruce is your adoptive father. I could be charged with kidnapping if you stay without his approval. I know he cares about you, he just got wrapped up in the newness of his relationship with Catwoman or something like that—"

“Sure.” I mumbled, not believing a single word she said, she hadn’t even sounded convinced.

I’d go back to the manor to protect Pixie, but I was done with Bruce and finished with Batman.

Chapter Text

At eighteen you never anticipate telling off your thirty-one-year-old pseudo father. No, that’s not right, in my experience kids daydreamed about telling their parents off for a variety of stupid reasons. What you really never expect to do was ask them. What. The. Hell?

Here I was though. Ready to ask Bruce how he could be so stupid.

In the middle of the week, my foundation was rocked by an SOS from Jason. Finding a broken Marinette, was something I never imagined. She’d been through a lot, loss of her family, an emotional terrorist in Paris during her youth, a broken heart from someone she once thought to be her soulmate. After all of that, never in a million years did I think something could finally break her.

Then just as the dust seemed to settle there was a second SOS on Saturday morning from Mari that led me to a broken Jason. A different break though, where Marinette’s was a break of spirit, Jason’s was a break of trust. Trust in his position in the world, in family, in Batman and most importantly trust in Bruce.  

Wish I could say I knew what had transpired on both occasions, but there were too many facts missing from the information I had, with currently no hope of getting a clear picture.

Jason didn’t remember much of what happened at the hand of the Joker, and what he did he wasn’t sharing with me or Marinette. Despite lots of schoolwork sitting on the back burner, I’d spent several evenings out on patrol looking for Ladybug to help fill me in. With my luck, she seemed to be elsewhere for the weekend, or avoiding anything to do with us. Which left my quest for answers with Bruce, and I had every intention of beating them out of him if I had to.

The metal doors to the elevator opened to the short corridor that led to Bruce’s office, and I took a deep breath trying to find my center and strength. Without even stepping onto the floor, I felt like all eyes in the office were upon me. As if they could sense what was about to happen in their boss’s domain.

From the distance I could tell Marinette was not at her desk and Bruce’s door was wide open. With the warm reception and the absence of their bosses, I wondered if I was not the first to walk in with drama on their mind.

The conversation deserved the privacy of the manor, but I had a paper to finish this evening and didn’t have the headspace to do it while allowing all of this to fester any longer. Luckily, Bruce’s office was soundproof, so we’d get our privacy in a way. So, despite the eerie feeling coming from the floor I urged my legs to move, determined to wait for Bruce.

As the glass doors opened into Marinette’s office space, my hopes of Mari being elsewhere were dashed by the presence of her voice within Bruce’s wide-open door. Both were off to the side, likely by Bruce’s couches as I couldn’t spot either as I entered the small glass enclosure. I quietly closed the door behind me hoping my presence would go unnoticed.

“Your two o’clock is with Mr. Silva, he is the representative from the Belnor contract. All of the information you need is in the purple folder here. The documents you requested from Mr. Fox are in the yellow folder here. He asked for you to approve them as soon as possible.”

The robotic nature in Marinette’s cadence was counter to the warmth usually present. There was little doubt from the professionalism reeking through her voice, she was not giving an inch for Bruce to maneuver. Their relationship was strained, possibly unfixable.

“Ms. Crysler from HR would like to know how you wish for them to address your new relationship with Ms. Kyle.”

So, the woman had a name. The relationship was serious enough to get HR involved and poor Marinette had to be the go between. Bruce Wayne, playboy extraordinaire, was finally locked down. The bile in my throat told me exactly what I thought of that idea.

“I’m sorry. My new what?”

There was a short pause, before Marinette continued. “You can find three different statements I’ve prepared in the blue folder. You can choose the one you feel…works best, or you may wish to create your own if I haven’t quite got the right idea.”

“Marinette, Selina Kyle and I are—”

Pretending he hadn’t said a word, Mari ignored him in favor of continuing, “My two weeks’ notice is in the red folder on top of the stack. I’ve included a list of potential candidates for my replacement. I took the liberty of scheduling an interview with my top pick. She will be your four o’clock today. I believe you will approve of Ms. Kubdel, I’ve worked with her before.”

As much as I wanted to remain unnoticed, the news that Mari had decided to leave had my legs carrying me closer to the door. Marinette was still not visible to me, but Bruce’s silhouette could be seen pacing.

“Your quitting! But why?” Pain laced Bruce’s voice. Subtle, but I doubted Mari wasn’t aware of it too.

“I’ve outlined it all in my notice, feel free to refer to it if you have any questions.” The vulnerability in Bruce’s voice was a staunch contrast to the coldness in Marinette’s.

Vulnerability, quickly replaced by anger. “I want to hear it directly from you.”

If Bruce was getting angry, Marinette was going atomic. Not that one could blame her, Bruce was a smart man, so there was no way he wasn’t aware of the many reasons Marinette might have decided to step away from being his PA.

This new obstinance of his was becoming a trademark.

Though Jason and I had not been able to confirm the formation of an intimate relationship between Mari and Bruce, we both knew there was longing—at least at some point—for one. To walk in on someone else in the position you wanted or at one time had been in, would be heartbreaking. Enough of a reason for Marinette to want out.

But she struck me as the kind of person who could work past it, at least for a little while. So, the breaking point was obviously what happened with Jason.

Showing up at Marinette’s door, black and blue from the torture Jason suffered at the hands of the Joker was likely horrific for her. From what I’d gathered, Ladybug had been able to heal the major wounds and those on his face to keep him out of the hospital and Marinette from calling the cops. He’d passed the story off as having been kidnapped for ransom but was rescued by Ladybug before anything too serious happened. If Marinette bought the story was debatable, surely she would wonder why Jason hadn’t gone to Bruce, the police, or even me, but as with everything else she didn’t push and opened her heart and home when needed.

Mari hadn’t even questioned the new white streak in Jason’s hair. She’d bought the story that it was a sign of his rebellion against Bruce. Jason said the truth was Ladybug had pushed too much magic in his body to heal the wounds that would have eventually claimed his life. The result was the universe requiring balance and taking some of his youth; a strip of hair was a small price to pay if you asked me.

Though she rolled with the punches, I had no doubt a piece of her held Bruce responsible. Especially when the entire weekend, I never saw him try to get in contact, by phone or just showing up.

There had to be a reason for her not contacting Bruce. There had to be a reason Jason’s anger seemed to be directed so forcefully toward Batman. Whatever it was, it was likely the reason Marinette was leaving.

Just another reason why waiting until the evening for this conversation to happen at the manor wasn’t a plausible idea. Marinette was jumping to some kind of conclusion, and I wasn’t versed enough on the incident to assist. And from Jason’s state and hesitance to return to the manor, this needed to be figured out before the damaged completely shattered the family permanently.

The first step was making sure Bruce didn’t put his foot in his mouth any further than it already was. Not that I couldn’t already hear Jason’s voice in my head saying, its already so far down you can see it coming out the other side.

Knocking on the door, I leaned my head around it so I could finally see them. Relief instantly flooded Marinette’s face, she was cornered as I’d suspected with her body just shy of splaying across the couch. Bruce looked like Batman sans his suit, his body trapping his prey. There was no way Bruce would ever do anything to physically hurt Marinette, but at that moment if I didn’t know the two people before me, I might have thought it was his intention.

As soon as he caught sight of me, his body pulled away and it felt like a heavy shadow removed itself from Marinette. The tension in Bruce’s body didn’t alleviate, in fact it seemed to increase, like he’d been disappointed at not being able to trap Mari into a conversation she clearly did not wish to have.

Taking a few steps towards me to create distance between herself and Bruce, she smiled at me in an unspoken thanks. “I’d rather not discuss the reasons further than what you can find in the red folder.”

Turning to face him one last time, Marinette smiled at Bruce. There was nothing genuine about it, it was one that reflected a person believing they had the upper hand. Based on her next words and Bruce’s reaction, she did.

“I already cleared it with HR, but I will be using the rest of my paid leave effective immediately. I’ve already cleared it with Ms. Kyle to fill in if you do not find Ms. Kubdel to be a suitable replacement.”

From the way Bruce’s face dropped—possibly his stomach doing the same—there was something missing as I’d suspected. Bruce’s reaction was too open, too vulnerable, too hurt.

The door closed quite loudly behind Mari as she made her escape back into her office. A good thing as she did not need to witness my attempts to get the answers to the old and new questions I had for Bruce.

For what felt like minutes, but was likely only seconds, Bruce and I were locked in a game of chicken. Neither willing to break the tension. Bruce because he would never be able to start a conversation when the bane of his existence—feelings—might have to come into play. Myself because I wasn’t sure I truly wanted to know the answers. Only a few possibilities would make this situation salvageable, but I didn’t have high hopes for them to be true.

Eventually, the tension couldn’t be ignored, and I figured I’d come for a conversation, so it was best to have it. “We both know there’s a lot to unpack here, so why don’t we start with something easy?”

None of this was going to be easy, it was likely going to be awkward and so uncomfortable. By the end, what was said in this room would likely have an impact on our relationship.  

“What happened with Jason? He doesn’t remember much, or he isn’t saying. And I haven’t been able to get in touch with Ladybug to get answers either.”

“Jason is not with Ladybug?”

Bruce crossed his arms and looked at me as if I were responsible for the answer being negative. Which was frustrating because we all knew Ladybug did as she pleased. Not even the Justice League was able to control her, so why would I have the power to get her to stay with Jason.

“Did you really expect her to keep Robin around all weekend?” The question was rhetorical, and Bruce knew it.

“Where is Jason?” The man before me frustratingly turned into Batman when I didn’t need the World’s Best Detective. I need the man who could accept his part in what happened, who could admit doing wrong, or at least see where he went wrong. Batman was incapable of doing any of that.

“He’s at Marinette’s.”

A bitter pill to swallow no doubt for the man who considered Jason his son, he’d chosen to heal with her and not him. Worse yet, I was confident there was now a little bit of understanding as to why Marinette might be walking away from him, even if I had yet to figure it out.

“Marinette knows Ladybug?”

“Wrong thing to focus on here Bruce. My understanding is she didn’t interact with Ladybug; Jason went to her solo as a civilian to protect your precious identity. Just begs the question why Jason went to her and not you. Also, why Ladybug is the one who ended up rescuing Robin and not Batman.”

Bruce stared at me blankly, like he didn’t have an answer, which if this was his reaction and not confusion, I knew it wasn’t the case. My voice rose, anger flaring through my words. “I’ve got a broken timeline, so I was hoping you’d be able to fill me in on why Little Wing was captured by the Joker, and you didn’t know anything about it.”

“Jason hasn’t talked to me since Marinette’s return from Germany.”

“You mean you haven’t talked to him since he caught you and Ms. Kyle in your office.”

“I figured he would talk to me when he was ready and then I’d be able to explain. That was of course before the incident with Joker and Catwoman.”

“Really B? While I want to get to the part about Ms. Kyle being on your desk and Catwoman—priorities. Why didn’t you call and check in on Jason? You know he’s impulsive, jumps to conclusions quickly. You not trying to get in contact with him made him draw some pretty impressive assumptions about how you feel about him in relation to Ms. Kyle. And I’m going to be honest, at this point I don’t blame him.”

Bruce’s hands ran through his hair and pulled at the roots, before pulling at his suit jacket to right himself once more. “I was trying to deal with Ms. Kyle before I had to give anyone answers.”

“What does Ms. Kyle have to do with Jason and the Joker? What the hell happened? Do you even know? DO YOU CARE?”

“OF COURSE, I CARE.” Bruce barked out in anger, his body shaking slightly as if to prove the point.

The anger radiating from him matched my own. If not careful, we would both have quickly devolved into becoming two feral cats. Circling each other while hissing in warning to the escalating tension, lashing out with our claws to hurt the other when the opportunity arose.

“Did you even check up on him since his near-death experience?”

Like a balloon that had suddenly been popped, the anger inside Bruce suddenly deflated and it was replaced with resignation as he came to sit on his couch with his head held between his hands. “Yes, but he turned off his cellphone and hasn’t gone out as Robin since. During patrol I’ve been looking for Ladybug but she and all her alter-egos haven’t been sighted. I had no clue he was with Marinette and honestly, I was too scared to check, I didn’t want to talk to her until I could explain Ms. Kyle.”

The reality check may have deflated his anger, but it only escalated my own. There was no way to keep him from falling in love with someone else. A reality I knew. No matter what, Jason and I couldn’t make him love Marinette, even if we thought we saw all the signs. But the way he went about it wasn’t something that could be overlooked. Not being upfront with Marinette, even if it were the painful it’s not you, it’s me because of someone new. Strike one. Ignoring Jason’s well-being so he didn’t have to face the consequences of his actions. Strike two. Lying, doing it behind our backs, putting Ms. Kyle before his other responsibilities. Strike three, four and five.

“I’m tired of beating around the bush, what happened Bruce?” The question opened to either subject, I’d allow for him to address which ever he wanted to first, but we’d definitely be addressing both Jason and Ms. Kyle.

In a move I’d never witnessed before, Bruce slumped down the couch, all signs of composure lost as he sighed.

“I don’t really know. I found the footage from the warehouse Joker had Jason in..." His voice caught trying to hold back what sounded like tears. “He was tortured, there is no other word to explain what Joker did. He was just holding on. I’m not even sure he was conscious when one of Ladybug’s alter-egos showed up through a portal. She walked in looking panicked and angry, but a second later she looked tired and resigned. Joker didn’t even have a chance to do anything before she placed a single finger upon him, and he disintegrated into ash before her. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but she kicked at the ashes as she walked over to Jason. The camera wasn’t clear enough, but she might have even spit in them.”

If we’re being honest, the Joker deserved a lot more. I could think of a couple of things I would have like to have done to his ashes and was mighty tempted to find the warehouse so I could.

“There was a light show that blinded the camera and then Ladybug took the place of the other hero to heal Jason.”

Immediately Bruce came to stand from the couch, walking over to his desk to play with the files Marinette left. I knew it was his way of brushing off his emotions by distracting his thoughts. Evidence that he truly did care about Jason and was impacted more than he let on at the possibility of losing him. It was just too bad his behavior might have made him lose Jason either way.

“The video doesn’t make sense.” His voice was broken, clearly holding on to his emotions by the skin of his teeth. “Ladybug said he died, that she was too late. But he was alive on the video. Then she suggested she had to save him multiple times, but there was only the once.”

Thinking aloud, I voiced the few details I knew about the evening. “Jason won’t tell me much about it, but he did say Ladybug has a miraculous that allows the user to step through time, another that lets them rework the same ten minutes as many times as needed. I would assume the time user sent Ladybug back to fix Jason’s death, but she had to keep reworking the same ten minutes to make it happen.”

“If she could rework the same time, why did she kill the Joker?”

“If she truly has the power to rework time and she used it, to then settle on the death of Joker as the final outcome, there’s a reason. I won’t assume I know better having not been there…But I do know if the choice was truly between Jason or Joker dying, I’d gladly spit in Joker’s ashes too.”

Turning away from me, Bruce walked over to the window that overlooked his city, but instead of looking out his head dipped. To someone else it would look as if he were crying, but I knew Batman didn’t cry, this was him admitting he was wrong without having to say the words. But it wasn’t enough for me.

“Still begs the question Bruce, where were you?”

Refusing to look at me, Bruce turned to look at his desk as if bombarded with memories, his face twisting in an unpleasant expression. “I was detained by som...personal business—I had no clue Robin was out, his tracker was off, and I didn’t know he had his suit on him.”

“By personal business you mean Selina Kyle?”

Shutting his eyes, Bruce looked ashamed. Which he should be. His liaison had almost cost me a brother. If it weren’t for the many amazing powers Ladybug had at her disposal, it would have.

“There was a robbery at the jewelry store at 3^rd and Main. Turned out to be Catwoman.”

Rubbing my temples as the pressure in my head built into a headache, I tried to make sense of the many pieces of information he’d just shared. “Wait—wait—wait. What does Catwoman—”

Insert the crashing reality of just how messed up the entire situation was. “Seriously Bruce, Catwoman?”

During my tenure as Robin, we’d run into Catwoman occasionally, usually at the end of one of her heists. She wasn’t the best at getting away without drawing attention, unfortunately she had habit of slipping away as we reclaimed what she’d stolen.

There was no way this was good news, she wasn’t the worst of Gotham villainy, but she wasn’t a good guy. What was Bruce thinking?

“She knows I’m Batman.” He said the statement as if it had all of the answers to the universe within it.

For me, it didn’t hold a single answer, but more questions and more anger. “I would hope so. To see her galivanting with Bruce Wayne in the office and Batman around town. Maybe you should have Batman release a statement at the same time as Bruce Wayne, so we can all be clear as to the nature of your relationship with the villain. Because hell if it makes sense to me.”

A hand would have done less damage than my words from the way Bruce reacted. His whole body lunged back in surprise. To be honest I wasn’t sure I’d ever spoken to someone with so much venom attached to my words, not even to the scum of Gotham. But I wasn’t done.

“So, you’re willing to tell a villain who has tried to harm us your Batman, but not Marinette? You literally had the best woman in the world willing to look past your less than stellar qualities and threw her away for one of the worst. You want to know why Jason doesn’t want to talk to you? Because he thinks of Marinette as his mother, and you went and broke her heart. Then to make it worse. Instead of being concerned with how he’s coping with having to learn about your new choice in partner, your too busy playing around even as Batman with this woman. I’m going to guess Robin and Ladybug found you with Catwoman and that’s why he didn’t come to you after Joker but went to Marinette’s.”

Bruce nodded his head, “I—"

“God, you are the first person to criticize us for not being focused while under the mask and you’re out there having a love affair in costume. You’re not the man I thought you were Bruce. I never in a million years thought you would send Marinette away to Germany so you could carry on with Ms. Kyle behind her back. Now I know why you were so adamant you were the one that had to carry out Superman’s mission.”

So apparently one of the habits I’d picked up from Marinette was her tendency to ramble when she was feeling any kind of emotions. Right now, I was on a roll from the strength of my anger directed firmly at Bruce.

“I thought you had integrity, but I see it’s all negotiable if your own desires get in the way of your moral compass.”

“Dick—” His voice came out like someone about to lecture a small child. Something I was not about to let happen.  

“No Bruce. You’re just another man whose fallen for the feminine wiles. It’s too bad even if you see it for yourself, it’ll be too late. The damage is done, in both your relationship with Marinette and Jason and I guess ours too.”

“Dick, if you would let me explain.”

“Explain…you’ve had a week. Fuck, you’ve had a month.”

“Language.”

“Please save me the lecture on language, you’re really not in a position to lecture me on anything.”

Kicking the trashcan by his desk, the empty cylinder went flying into the floor-to-ceiling window before bouncing back leaving the window unscathed. Surprisingly, the small release and the extremely loud noise it created, quieted some of my anger, just enough.

“Look Bruce, I came here for answers. Now I realize I don’t have a right to them, because its Marinette and Jason who need to hear the truth first.”

Not even giving him a second to say anything, I moved back to his office doors because I’d realized it was the truth. I wasn’t some mediator; I’d tried and failed to convince Jason that Bruce loved him. For Jason to ever believe it, Bruce had to show him. Same with Marinette. The best I could do, was suggest he try. From here on out, it was up to Bruce.

Before I opened the door, I placed my hand on the knob and paused. “Marinette once told me the biggest thing we take for granted is how we constantly get to make choices. How even when we make a bad one, we get the choice to try something different or just accept the consequences of the choice we made.”

Leaving my statement more or less hanging, I left the room hoping he realized I was asking him to make a choice. He could either accept the fall out of the situation he created, or he could choose to do something about it.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time I feared returning to the streets of Gotham. Afraid that disappointing and not living up to the expectations of those who were offering me a new life would result in a return to the old one. A life where I was barely living.

Funny to think those fears were very real to me just over a week ago, and now I could see clearly just how irrational they were.

Not because I wouldn’t return to the streets, because I had never truly left. I may not have been sleeping in them during my time with Bruce, but I had still been fighting in them, protecting them, and learning from them.  

No, the reason ‘living’ on the streets didn’t scare me anymore was because I finally realized even if I did, it would never be the same. I was a different person: stronger, smarter, more resilient. Returning to the street as who I used to be would have been miserable, but I was no longer Jason Peter Todd, street kid.

The reasons to fear the street no longer existed for Jason Todd-Wayne, ex-Robin, now, the street had reasons to fear me.  

For example, around the corner was the tall tell signs of an assault. A woman’s scream muffled in an out as her attacker’s hand likely went from covering her mouth to attempting other objectives.

In the past, Jason Peter Todd at most would have tried to create some form of distraction to let them know they were not alone. Sometimes that was enough to discourage the assailant, if they were skittish enough to believe the possibility they'd attracted the likes of Batman and Robin. It rarely worked, because this was Gotham, so few were scared of doing a little criminal behavior and two vigilantes could only be at two places at once.

Back then I wished to be strong enough, brave enough, willing enough to do more. But I was stopped by the knowledge of what would happen to me if I became the target, after learning from experience. Needless to say, Joker wasn’t the first to come close to gravely injure me and I doubted he would be the last.

As Jason Peter Todd, I knew strength was a powerful tool to have, but with no way to really obtain it I learned protection had to be found in more ways than brutal force. Instead, I had to work on getting food and money to bribe for protection. Before the end of my time on the streets, I’d become pretty proficient at it.

But now...

Fear of being the victim if I interfered with an attack was no longer a consideration.  I had strength and training; it took much scarier, deranged individuals to scare me. Though scared was a word I no longer felt was in my dictionary. I might not remember my fifteen turns at death, but I remembered everything leading to them and the memory of welcoming it. When you no longer fear death, there isn’t much to be scared of anymore.

Fortunately for me, the scum of Gotham still feared death.

The dark corner the man had dragged the woman off to, was the perfect spot to be alone. It was at the end of a long narrow path, with no doors close by, and the lights meant to soften the shadows were too far to be effective. If it had not been for the woman getting one good scream out, I too would have been none the wiser to her predicament. Fortunately, she was a fighter, and the piece of scum rapist was having a hard time silencing her. Which was why he chose to have his fist slam down on her left cheek, not completely rendering her unconscious, but dazing her long enough to pull down his pants.

The perfect time for me to strike.

With no weapons on me, I used the only obvious thing at my disposal. Silently lurking up behind him I pulled his pants down to his ankles in one swift movement. The perfect placement to cause him to careen forward when he spun to see who dared to interrupt him. Not expecting the binds around his feet, he failed to catch himself, causing his face to harshly connect with the concrete below. Telling from the scream of pain, his nose had broken.

The woman who was just beneath him seconds before seemed dazed, but a soft hand to her arm had her attention snap suddenly to me.

“Go.” I urged her.

Not needing to be told twice, she bent down to retrieve her discarded purse and stumbled out of the dark alley. Leaving me alone with just another example of the filth of Gotham.

On the ground, the man moaned in pain, his focus on stopping his nose from bleeding. Approaching his body, my shadow overtook him.

Just under a month ago the shadow would have moved with the light winter breeze as a cape would be bellowing behind me. The cape was nowhere to be seen, but the shadow was still as intimidating. The winter clothing I wore bulked the shadow, making it appear much more muscular than I currently was. My hands being kept warm by the pockets of my pants looked as if they were resting on a gun holster. The most interesting part of the silhouette however was the hat which I had pulled down to hide my identity looked more like a helmet.  

All in all, an intimidating image, and far from the one I used to create.

The man looked down at the ground, taking in the same shadow I’d just been admiring, and to my immense delight trembled in its wake. Admittedly, I did not look like the fifteen-year-old I was, but a man. A man who’d come to give this piece of shit a lesson.

Before me he looked so weak, like a victim himself. It disgusted me. Was this the reason we offered jail for crimes committed? Because the moment we took away the thing that gave criminals power, in their powerless state they looked like someone needing to be saved?

Jail was supposed to be a form of rehab to have criminals reintegrate back into society, able to forgo their old ways. But was that truly a punishment? Listening to the stories of prisons, these men regain their power almost immediately. Because even in jail someone is always weaker, money still buys, and the sickness in their head doesn’t disappear with iron bars. Even if they don’t find the same kind of power within their cells, the moment they are back on the streets they tend to find what they lost regardless.

Sure, there are men and women who go to jail and that’s it. Forced to break the law by naiveté, necessity, or even coercion. They come out and work hard to never return, because what led them there had nothing to do with power. But for the likes of Gotham, a good majority were happy to behave in ways that had them counting down the days until they returned to their cells. The rapist, the abusers, the bosses, the deranged clowns of the world, jail teaches them nothing, if not giving them different and often more power. Within their cells they bide their time, build their power, until they are released back on the streets.

How many people would not become victims of sexual assault, how many partners wouldn’t end up in the hospital from domestic assault, how many innocent people would still be alive from the latest rogue’s ploy for attention, if jail wasn’t the answer to crime?

To really stop the filth of Gotham one had to take their power. For the rapist quaking at my boots, the answer lied with his…

“I thought we had a deal?”

I hung my head and turned away from my target as a familiar presence lowered herself over my right shoulder. The man took my distraction as an opportunity to escape, something I lamented happening. Not that I could have done what I planned with Lady Noire present.

“Which deal is that?” I asked innocently as I turned to look at her. In response she narrowed her eyes at me.

I tried to look at her without a care in the world. Was it an act? Absolutely. I hated she caught me going against her word and therefore disappointing her. But the way she found me, alone in a dark alley, about to teach a criminal right from wrong; that I didn’t care about.

“The one where you at least let someone know where you are.”

“You found me. So, it sounds to me like someone knew where I was.”

Dropping her transformation, Marinette stood before me, and I lifted my hat back to sitting correctly on my head in response. Her nose was scrunched up in frustration, really not enjoying my cavalier attitude.

“Jason, this isn’t a laughing matter.”

“Not laughing. Only the Joker would find it funny, but he’s dead.”

For once Marinette looked at me with her emotions completely masked. The impact of my statement either hitting too strongly or missing the mark. It was unnerving, my words were meant to cause a reaction. I was lashing out, begging for attention. I knew it, but felt powerless to stop it since her return from Germany.

What should have been a happy occasion, the return of the woman I saw as my mother, was tainted, and warped into an event that was having major consequences.

Not only for me.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

Nowhere was the correct answer, I’d found comfort the last few nights sleeping back on the streets. The familiarity was a balm against the glass façade that was my life when adopted by Bruce. That answer would upset her, she’d risked the balance of the universe to keep me alive, and no doubt my risking it again by sleeping in the streets would not go over well.

So instead, I answered, “Dick’s.”

“Are we back to this again? Where you lie to my face thinking I won’t know?” Her voice had a hint of humor to it, not at the situation, but my audacity I supposed. “Want to try again?”

“A warehouse, two blocks back. I’ve been staying there for a couple of nights.”

Her lips tilted up, giving off the impression she was proud of me for being honest. “Lead the way.”

Momentarily I was frozen in place. Was Marinette truly giving me the okay to remain where I’d been? There was no indication in her expression it was a ruse, that her intention was to drag me back kicking and screaming to where I once felt was becoming my home. Not one to spit in the face of a good thing, I walked out of the alley to the warehouse.

There didn’t appear to be any judgement when we entered. She looked around but didn’t pause or fail to follow as I guided her to where I had made a makeshift bed.

“Nice place you got?”

“Your sarcasm is one of a kind. Let’s just call it what it is…a dump.”

“Your words, not mine.” She bopped me on my nose with her finger before she went to sit on the mattress—if it could still be called one. “I’m not going to tell you to come home with me or leave at all. My partner and I had a similar escape when we were fifteen, so doing so would be quite hypocritical of me. But…I’m going to ask you a question no one had the opportunity to ask me…Why?”

There were a few things she could be asking me about. Why did I contemplate permanently taking away the man in the alleys ability to rape someone? Why was I here? Why did I hate Bruce with what felt like every fiber of my being? Why couldn’t I turn to her and Dick for support?

“Why what?”

“I know why I needed a place to escape, and why Chat Noir did. But I just want to know why you need one.

“It’s not an escape, as much as it’s where I belong.” I snarked back. I’d acknowledged even when I first arrived at Wayne Manor my return was imminent, why everyone else was so determined not to see it too wasn’t my problem.

The look she gave had the same effect as saying, really. “You and Dick are wise beyond most kids your age; it comes with your experiences and the challenges that arise when a kid’s doing the work of adults. Not discounting the fact, you two are just plain old, pain in the ass, intelligent. It’s what makes it so hard for you to just be a kid.”

I nodded my head, completely agreeing that both living on the streets and then fighting on them had caused me to grow up considerably faster than my peers. Kids my age were mostly concerned about who their next girlfriend was going to be, whereas I was concerned about what some drug dealer was doing to his girlfriend.

“So, it’s nice to have these little reminders of just how young and innocent you are.”

“Excuse me?!” Those were two words I had not associated with myself for a long time.

“Don’t hate me for saying it Jayjay, but we both know you saying you belong here is nothing more than a temper tantrum.”

Never before had my anger been directed towards Marinette. I had legitimate excuses to be upset and she was belittling me by suggesting all of this was nothing more than a temper tantrum.

“This isn’t me having a temper tantrum, this is an escape away from Bruce and just—just all of it.”

She smiled at me with understanding and maybe a touch of victory. “So, an escape from your feelings?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but shut it immediately realizing she’d won.

“I’m not suggesting you being here is a temper tantrum, I’m only suggesting your statement was. I can completely understand why you’d come here to escape everything happening, it’s understandable. But…I don’t think you coming here is to escape your feelings, otherwise you wouldn’t push this whole ‘I belong here,’ I think the reality is your being here is so you can punish yourself.”

“What would I have to punish myself for?”

“I have some idea’s but the only one that can really answer that is you, Jason.”

I searched deep inside to try and come up with an answer. Marinette wouldn’t have asked the question unless she already had her mind set upon one. But the more I searched and the silence between us continued to linger, I found nothing. I wasn’t blaming myself for anything, because I wasn’t to be blamed for anything—getting in trouble with the Joker notwithstanding.

But she was right, sleeping on a grungy, molded mattress instead of on her couch, was me punishing myself to a degree, “Cause I feel like someone has to be punished…and the person I feel needs to be held accountable, I have no way of doing it and he doesn’t seem interested in doing it himself.”

Nodding her head for me to continue, I gave voice to the internal dialogue plaguing me.

“I’m not angry anymore about what we walked into at Bruce’s office. I was in the moment, but now it just makes me sad.”

Looking up briefly to measure Marinette’s response to bringing up ‘the incident,’ I found similar feeling reflected in her eyes, so I continued. “The incident with the Joker was my fault, if not for you I would be dead and I have no one to blame but myself. Not even what Batman was doing instead of patrol can be blamed. I didn’t let anyone know where I was or what I was doing, so the consequences are my own.”

Placing her hand on my arm, she stopped my rambling in its track. “There you go again blaming yourself. Yes, you were alone. Yes, no one knew where you were. But no, you’re not to blame. The Joker is the only one responsible for his actions. The world should be a safe place, you should be able to walk around without worrying about what some sick individual might do to you. Unfortunately, that’s not the world we live in, so we should always be more vigilant, but we don’t blame the victims. Even when the victim is ourself.”

“That’s the problem though,”—I screeched, causing Marinette to lean away from me slightly in shock—"we tell people, don’t go out at night unless you have to. Don’t dress in a way that makes it so they can easily assault you or want to. Go in pairs. Avoid here. Then against the actual perpetrator of crimes as a society we tell them, don’t do this or you’ll go to jail. It works well in advising people what could happen if they break laws, but it does nothing to prevent people that are determined. Crime rate is down in Gotham not because criminals decided to stop being criminals, but because Batman is there to stop it, so there are less people actually able to complete their crimes…until they try again. No one’s going to stop trying to make money, being sick in the head, because you’ve threatened them with a good time in jail. Not when they break out every other week, and not when the truth is the criminals own the jails. So, the reality is we do nothing to really protect victims, and we do blame them, because we blame them for putting themselves in a position that made them victims by not following a rule book of don’t dos.”

Then I recognized the truth of my anger. “I’m angry because Joker was supposed to be in jail, he was supposed to be locked up. But he wasn’t, he got out for the nth time, and we didn’t know where he was. I stumbled upon him following someone else and he killed me. He killed me and Batman dared to criticize you for removing him from the face of the Earth.”

“Jayjay—"

“No, Marinette. Bruce sits there and he lectures about doing the right thing for the city of Gotham and yet he refuses to do it. Joker is just one parasite he welcomes back, time and time again. What would be good for Gotham is if the criminals faced real punishment for their crimes. Countless lives would have been saved had the Joker died long ago, maybe not after his first crime, not even his second. But when the man proved to be determined, a pine box should have been sitting outside of city hall with his name on it.”

I was breathing heavily as I finished my rant and Marinette’s eyes which I expected to be wide were looking at me as if she hadn’t had the same thoughts cross her own mind a time or two.

After a pause, Marinette took my hand and began to stroke it with her thumb, settling my heart rate which had begun to climb. It did nothing for my head though which still swam with the many thoughts that were unsettled.

“I understand. But Bruce was right, we are not prosecutor, jury, and executioner. As heroes we strive to become good prosecutors, making sure we have the evidence for conviction. Sometimes we’re even the executioner ensuring the justice people have sought is executed. But the moment we step into the jury role and decide someone’s level of guilt and their punishment, we gain power people haven’t necessarily given us.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t have that power? Who better to know the extent of a person’s crime than those seeing it firsthand, looking at all the evidence that isn’t admissible in court because of technicalities?”

“I think everyone has their opinion on that, I’m not even sure I’ve settled on mine. But I do know, we already operate above the law, otherwise we’d get sued every week for assault and who knows what else. The further we fly above them though, the more power we acquire, and then the more above the law we become. When that happens, who does it leave to keep us in check?”

“So that’s a no…after you killed the Joker?”

Marinette flinched and I felt horrible for the statement. She didn’t tell me a whole lot, but she knew there had been consequences for her killing Joker, she never mentioned whether they were good or bad, just that there had been changes to the future.

“It’s not a no. It’s the knowledge that answers to loaded questions like that, aren’t as simple as a yes or no. The answer is always dependent on circumstances. Do I think we should be able to decide? Sometimes I think we make the call whether anyone recognizes it or not; we watch someone mugged and then we fight the suspect till the police arrive. By doing so we’ve assigned a certain level of guilt and executed a punishment with no fear of repercussions for us. Do I think we should do it all the time? No, because then when we make mistakes there is no one to hold us accountable.”

“Except for ourselves.”

“True, but what if just like your villains, you don’t see yourself as having done anything wrong? It’s why a lot of ‘heroes’ that tend to cross those lines, are ostracized. Because eventually they do something no one else can rationalize, or where in hindsight it appears there were many other options available.”

She released a sigh and her eyes seemed to be looking for something. “During my tenure as a hero, I’ve made a handful of decisions I knew would not make people happy and went against the established laws. I didn’t make them lightly; they were thought out and executed in a way that ensured my actions helped more people and never just myself. For example, we never told anyone the identity of the first Hawkmoth because his family would have suffered the consequences. Joker, I had one hundred and fifty minutes to think about what to do. I tried my hardest to find another solution, but when there wasn’t one, I stepped above the law. I’d do it again, but only because I didn’t make a rash decision. For the rest, I try to make sure I let the people’s rule become the jury and I, the faithful executioner.”

Marinette’s speech was very enlightening, and I agreed with a lot of what she had to say. A hero who often stepped too far above the law became a villain in the eyes of society, or an anti-hero as they like to call them. People liked to scoff at them for doing things that seem against an unspoken hero code. At the same time, they won’t admit their relief they get to sleep better at night because people like the Joker are no longer around.

“What if those rules let criminals get away? Not all codes are right. Like Batman. His moral code is great and all for him. But it’s nothing more than a catch and release program. Then on top of it, if he’s fucking one of the criminals, there free to continue their crimes without any consequence.”

“Jason watch what comes out of your mouth.” The statement sounded parroted, like she only said it out of habit than true offense.

“It’s true. You know Catwoman is Selina Kyle…right?” My last word came out more like a whisper as I realized the venom behind my words shouldn’t have been targeted at Marinette.

“I was smart enough to figure out Batman, a cat wasn’t that much harder.”

She looked down at her hands, which were playing with her fingers within her lap. I realized that I’d killed the conversation by bringing up the one topic—or rather person—Marinette likely didn’t want to talk about. Hell, I didn’t want to talk about her.

I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know where to drive the conversation. Marinette had once again talked me into a corner where I was forced to face truths about myself. The only problem now, I had to discover what they all meant.

Standing from the mattress, I held my hand out for her to take.  “Come on, let’s go home.” She nodded her head, and we left the warehouse to return to her apartment.

She’d been right, I was punishing myself for crimes I didn’t commit. Didn’t change the fact I was also right, I belonged on the street. I’d realized Batman’s moral code wouldn’t fix what was broken. His method of justice only fixed the symptoms, temporarily.

Something else, or maybe someone else needed to find a way to eradicate the cancer once and for all.

Chapter Text

With my parents gone most of the time to fill their passion for archaeology, most of my time was mine to do with as I pleased. School was easy, boarding on basically being a joke despite having skipped a number of grades. The hobbies I was forced to enjoy could only fill so much time. And ensuring my parent’s business ran smoothy comprised of mostly cleaning up loose ends, as they maintained tight control even from afar. It left a lot of time for me to get up to no good, especially at night.

To help fill some of the unoccupied time when I was nine my parents gifted me a camera. Photography had always been a passion of mine, even if I was not the one initially taking the pictures. But I learned very quickly Drake Manor was a very limiting subject and decided to entertain the idea of combining my new hobby with a personal interest. Which resulted in my scaling some of the tamer roof tops of downtown Gotham in pursuit of images of my personal hero.

For four years I watched from the shadows as Batman grew into a legend that expanded into a legacy when he began training two others in his craft. They were everything Gotham needed until recently, where the legend seemed to be disappearing.

The shift in Batman was gradual, other than diehard fans such as myself I doubted many noticed. Mostly because no one else was looking. Too afraid likely of what they would see and what it could mean. People figured if they ignored the problems then they didn’t exist. To the city and police, Batman was still getting the job done. Criminals were still filling the cells, victims were returning home instead of the hospital, and most noticeably, the shadows the scum of Gotham could hide within were getting smaller and smaller. Those were all nice things, but it was the cost of obtaining them that concerned me. The criminals were heading to the cells halfway ready for the morgue, victims went home frightened of their savior as much as their attacker, and the scum were hiding further into the shadows because someone possibly worse than them was shining light into their hiding places. 

Those facts were reason enough to be concerned, even if the powers that be within Gotham didn’t share in my fears. But they were ignoring the fact all of this was pointing to an even bigger concern. The current state was a sign Batman was getting closer and closer to self-destructing, and he had no one to help stop him.

The evidence of this was playing out in the digital print I was currently capturing with each click of my camera. At the beginning of tonight’s engagement Batman appeared as if he would be easily overwhelmed by what I counted as twelve traffickers, armed tooth and nail with both knives and guns. If this were the old Bat, he would have likely succumbed to their numbers and retreated until he could acquire backup.

Backup, that in the current climate would likely never come.

Why?

A falling out of some sort was what I suspected. But had yet to determine the reason.

The caped crusader, who was initially notorious for his solo act, denied helping in the formation of the Justice League because he ‘worked alone,’ had moved to a team dynamic about two years ago. He’d become a founding member of the Justice League, internationally known for being one of its leaders and a good one at that. Less than a few months after he created a team for Gotham, mentoring two different Robins, allowing them the opportunity to become strong heroes themselves. The cherry on top was Batman allying himself closely with Ladybug, another international hero, separate from the Justice League.

An alliance that seemed almost bordering on partnership up until about a month ago, when the team dynamic went back to a solo act. Ladybug finished her work in China and had not been seen since. Like Ladybug, the second Robin seemed to drop off the face of the Earth a short time after. And Nightwing had only been seen patrolling alone, never with Batman, almost as if he was ensuring they remained on opposite ends of the city.

These were the known facts.

Batman seemed to take it in stride, not finding new mentees to fill the void. It was like four years ago, back to how it started. The problem though, he was not behaving like he did in the beginning.

Tonight, the twelve traffickers constantly threatened to overtake him, with so many it was hard to keep them down. With no partners it should have led to a tactical retreat or keeping a distance while trying to corral the thugs till he had police assistance. Past Batman seemed to remember he was only human, and the suit only protected him so much, making him far more cautious to put his life on the line.

After all, you can’t save people when you’re dead or too injured.

But tonight—or better said, as of late—he pushed himself to walk through a rain of bullets as if he were Superman, took knives to his kevlar as if there were no seams for them to slip between, and faced fist as if they could leave no bruises. In other words, he was becoming reckless with his life.

Alone that wasn’t quite the red flag flapping in the air. It could easily be explained off by the acquisition of a technological advancement in his suit. But when you couple it with the fact he was more aggressive, lacked his usual restraint, and like his namesake—or rather the vampire bat half of Gotham suspected him to be—seemed to desire blood, it all pointed at something wrong.

Batman finished the song and dance quickly when the police finally showed. Three of the traffickers were being loaded to the back of police car, the rest were being carted off to the hospital in ambulances. A now more common scene for those that face the Dark Knight. Instead of a nice cushy jail cell, more and more spent the week in the hospital.

First conclusion to most would have been that Batman had become a more impressive fighter. From the way the twelve men had been picked apart one by one, there was some truth. Watching him over the last four years it was obvious Batman never became complacent, constantly striving to improve and increase his skill and knowledge to become the best. But that wasn’t what was going on here, his behavior was primordial, like he was punishing Gotham and in turn himself for something.

The longer this punishment went on, I feared we lose him in one of two ways; from death, or the loss of the moral code we’d come to respect him for. No thirteen-year-old genius required to understand why either of those outcomes would be bad.

Especially if one considered the reason Batman was facing so many very desperate human traffickers in one go and not the smaller cells he was used to, was the appearance of a new crime lord in Gotham.

Again, at first glance doesn’t appear uncommon for Gotham, we go through crime bosses like Bruce Wayne used to go through women. The difference, as the Godfather might say, said crime lord had no respect. Territories agreed upon for years meant nothing to him, he took them over without a second thought, claiming what he wanted without caring about who he was taking it from. When the older, more established bosses protested, they ended up dead.

It's crazy to think of crime bosses actually having a code, a set of rules, but they do. It’s how they prevent the streets from becoming a full out war zone every other week. Yet, this Red Hood character has come into Gotham and doesn’t care, seems to welcome the idea of a full out war. Strangely enough, despite it, he does everything he can to prevent the innocent civilians from being affected by his war path.

Someone like Red Hood was dangerous, more so because as far as I’m aware, no one has any clue who is behind the mask. He wore this red contraption on his face to protect his identity. It’s scary because while it’s possible it could be a single man, it could also be he was anyone at any time, more of an idea than actual man. Either way it’s hard to stop a man whose face you don’t know, or who could be replaced quickly if you did with no one the wiser.

More impossible when the only one who had any real chance of stopping him was now working alone and in my opinion already swamped.

Which is why I was determined to fix this. I might not be old and wise in years, but I was smart enough to figure out what was really happening and offer a possible solution.

Fortunately, as my parents where what some people might describe as absentee, they would be none the wiser to the action I was about to take. I calculated three months before my parents returned from their jaunt to the Caribbean. Three months without their expectations, anger, or disappointment, while I did something for myself and Gotham.

After having disposed of the would-be traffickers, Batman turned in for the night. The lights of the Batmobile faded off in the distance. Slowly I descended from my perch, methodically as to prevent a stupid mistake like falling off the ladder to be reason tonight I would not follow him home and enact my plan.

There was no pressing need to follow the headlights that were now barely visible as they approached the tunnel that marked the city limits. In fact, trying could be disastrous to the point of dying. The Batmobile followed no written laws and while the motorcycle I rode upon was impressive, my skill at thirteen was nowhere near enough to compete.  It mattered little, as I was likely one of very few people that knew where his end destination was and fortunately, it was next to my family home.

Parking my bike at the end of the long drive, I used the walk to rehash the speech I made earlier in the week when I had first come to this decision. I knew it was going to be an uphill battle convincing Batman this was the correct course of action, especially with the circumstances surrounding the need. I wondered if my words would have any impact other than driving Batman to dispose of my body when he decided it was the only way to keep me quiet when I clearly knew more than I should.

The doorbell rang in a hauntingly beautiful tune, fitting for the older manor, but tonight it sounded like my personal funeral march. Footfall could be heard approaching the door and for some crazy reason my mind imagined a figure closer to Frankenstein’s monster opening the door than the old English butler I knew.

But that thought was driven by the naïve part of my mind that reflected my actual age and not my IQ. The part that often held me back from proving my worth in so many facets of my life. Like not standing up to my parents when I knew I was not in the wrong, because I would only ever be seen as just a child in their eyes. It was also the part that allowed logic to be replaced and allow for me to do things that weren’t always smart. Like following the Dark Knight and his Robin around town—for better or worse—instead of staying in the safety of my bedroom. Tonight, I needed it to quiet just a little if hoped to have Batman see me as the detective I was and not just the child my age suggest.

For unlike his previous picks, I wasn’t a child acrobat, nor a kid that learned how to fight by staying alive on the streets. In fact, I was a kid who was significantly smaller than most my age, but I had an IQ that labeled me a genius, a hobby of solving cold cases, and computer skills Batman seemed to be of great need of with the presence of Red Hood.

The wide wooden door of Wayne Manor opened to an older man and not the Lurch I’d convinced myself it would. Alfred looked unsurprised to see me standing before him at such a late hour. There was no doubt in my mind the man was aware of my presence since I’d set foot on the property. I’d been to enough events at Wayne manor to know the efficiency of the man before me.

“Mr. Drake,” Mr. Pennyworth’s head lowered in a way that mimicked a bow, “how might I assist you at this late hour?”

Had I not known what I did, I would have missed the subtle way he looked around me. When he failed to find what he was looking for a crease formed between his brows.

“I wish to speak to Mr. Wayne.” There was a confidence in the way I spoke despite the conflict in my mind. The statement, do not take no for an answer, replayed as I stood strong before the English man. A motto of the Drake family, or so I’d been led to believe.

“Is he expecting you?”

“Likely not, but it does not change my need to see him.” My words appeared to shock the older man as his eyes briefly widened before returning to their natural state, perhaps a little narrower than they began. Not surprising as few expected such bravado and command from someone so young, but I was raised to play a part and admittedly, I played it well.

“Shall I lead you to the dining room?” Of all places to offer, I was confounded by where he suggested.

He chuckled softly at whatever expression I gave, a soft smile replacing the professional one. “I have a feeling your conversation with Master Wayne will be long enough to require substance. Milk and cookies perhaps? I much prefer to only have to clean cookie crumbs from the dining room and not between seat cushions.”

“Coffee,” I barked, much to my own surprise.

“Pardon?” Mr. Pennyworth inquired; despite I’m sure hearing me perfectly the first time.

“Coffee and cookies if you don’t mind.”

He moaned before clearing his throat to cover the sound. “I know I shall regret this, but as you require. This way please.”

The dining room was large and as imposing as I imagined Mr. Wayne’s office would have been. Not helping in making me feel calmer about the conversation we were about to have.

Alfred disappeared behind a swinging door—the kitchen likely—and returned not even two minutes later with a tray of cookies, a carafe of coffee, and two cups. I knew the man was good at his job, but I had not realized just how good.

As he set the items down, he chuckled at my bewilderment. “Mr. Wayne usually requires coffee this late, so it was ready. As for the cookies, they were baked earlier by a friend, I think you will enjoy them. They are a favorite around the manor.”

Taking a quick bite of the baked good I closed my eyes to enjoy perfection. Not too chewy or too crunchy, somehow managing to find the perfect balance. I moaned lightly, causing my companion to snicker. I opened my eyes in embarrassment, adjusting myself quickly to return to the professionalism that would be required.

“I shall go collect Master Wayne, feel free to finish the cookies before he arrives. He does not deserve them.”

The comment gave me pause, but he had already disappeared before I could probe. From the sounds of it, Alfred was blaming Mr. Wayne for something, and I wondered if it was contributing to why I was here.

Mr. Wayne appeared unaccompanied only a moment later. A shiner was present across his left cheek, covered by crude make-up and what Mr. Wayne likely though was low lighting. I hated to imagine how the rest of him looked from the fight earlier in the evening.

“Timothy, right?” I nodded my head in reply. “What can I do for you.”

He stood behind the chair across from me, his grip upon it reflecting the indecision he seemed to be facing on whether our conversation would require him to sit or stand. I figured the nature of our conversation would likely lead to both.

I folded my hands together upon the large dining table, mimicking the poise I watched my father perform countless times in front of his board. The result was likely ineffective when used by someone so young towards someone so familiar with giving it, but I hoped he’d recognize it as me meaning business. “I wish to talk to you about Batman requiring a Robin.”

Mr. Wayne breathed out a small laugh, “that is something I believe you would need to discuss with Batman.”

The moment of truth, the moment I relayed the secret I had kept since I discovered the first Robin was Dick Grayson. “I am.”

Silence met my statement, not unexpectedly. I’d prepared for it. A mere child to Mr. Wayne was claiming to be aware of his biggest secret and playing it off with his typical charm wouldn’t work even if I were an average child.

“Mr. Wayne, let me go ahead and save you from trying to convince me otherwise. I’ve known for some time you’re Batman, Dick Grayson was the first Robin, now Nightwing, and Jason Todd was the second Robin.”

Once again, I was met with silence, something I had not expected. Mr. Wayne ignored my statement as he poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting and taking a sip.

“How?”

“You’ve been a personal hero of mine for some years now, I started following your escapades just before you adopted Dick.”

“That’s quite dangerous and something I wouldn’t advise—"

“—Noted. Anyway, one year my parents took me to the circus where the Flying Graysons were performing. I was enamored by their son who was able to perform tricks no one else could. It was amazing to watch the new Robin perform similar feats. Once I was looking it was easy to connect the dots.”

If I could have kicked myself I would have. In an effort to sound confident, I was overselling it, and my words sounded more like a threat than statements of facts.

“If you’ve known my identity for so long, why come to me now?”

So cometh the moment that would define my future. “You require a Robin and I volunteer.”

“This isn’t the Hunger Games kid; I don’t need a tribute.” Mr. Wayne removed himself from the table and made ready to leave. “I trust you can continue to keep this knowledge between us?”

“That would be where you are wrong.” Mr. Wayne’s eyes flashed at my audacity, but I’d prepared this, and I needed to believe in myself. “I’ve watched you flounder over the last month. I can’t pretend to know the intricacies as to why, but I do know that it coincides with the last time Robin was sighted.”

Pausing in the door frame, the coffee cup in Mr. Wayne’s hand shook slightly. “As you’ve stated Timothy, you don’t understand the intricacies. I do not require a new Robin.”

“I disagree, since you took Dick in, you’ve come to need a Robin. I may not understand the why, and you are under zero obligation to tell me, but I know Nightwing is unlikely to come back and hasn’t been seen patrolling with you for the same period of time. And Jason? Jason for some reason is very angry with you so I doubt he will be returning any time soon.”

Mr. Wayne turned to look back at me, uncertainty but also curiosity flashing across his face. “How are you aware of Jason’s feelings towards me?”

“Since Jason came to Gotham Academy he’s had a knack for sticking up for the little guys. I’m a thirteen-year-old senior, so always the little guy.” I chuckled in a way that was self-deprecating. “But I digress. Last week, he was helping me against one of the jocks, when the guy suggested you wouldn’t approve of his behavior. Jason said he could…careless what you thought.”

His exact words had been ‘I could give zero fucks what that asshole thinks about me beating up a piece of shit like you.’ But I wasn’t going to tell Batman that.

“Before, he’d very much cared and got hit in the face for hesitating. Not evidence in and of itself, but when combined with the fact Robin is no longer patrolling with Batman...”

Mr. Wayne leaned his head back as he resettled in his chair and exhaled loudly. “You being Robin doesn’t help me with my problems, Timothy. You can’t fix my relationship with Jason or Dick.”

This was true, especially as I wasn’t aware of what had caused the problems. I was smart enough to know it was something Mr. Wayne was going to have to do by himself. “Probably not. But I can at least relieve some of the pressure on Batman so you can.”

Running his hand through his hair was the only sign Mr. Wayne was about to lie to me. “Batman is facing no additional pressures that would require a Robin to assist.”

“We both know that’s not true. Especially with Red Hood using his unique methods to dispose of some of Gotham’s rift raft.”

He looked away from me and I knew I’d struck a chord. I wasn’t sure before coming if Batman was also unaware of who was behind the mask as the rest of Gotham’s populous. But apparently being called out for not knowing was something he did not enjoy.

“Look Mr. Wayne, I’m not trying to strong arm you into taking me,” just suggesting strongly. “But, while I’m not physically ready yet to stand beside you, I’m willing to learn and I think I could start helping now with the Red Hood case behind the scenes.”

“I was able to train Dick and Jason because they lived here. It would be close to impossible to keep it a secret from your parents and I can’t compromise my identity for the sake of having a Robin.”

Color me shocked as it appeared my battle was halfway won. I had a laundry list of arguments he might use as to why he shouldn’t take me on, this was honestly the easiest to address.

“You know my parents, right?”

Looking down, he nodded his head.  “Yeah—yeah, I do. How long until they get back this time?”

“Three months more or less. Then we both know it will only be a matter of days, maybe a week or two before their gone again.”

“I’m sorry, Timothy.”

“You can just call me Tim. And it’s alright. It’s not like it’s new and at this point I prefer when their gone.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No, but it doesn’t change it... So, am I your new Robin?”

The cogs were spinning visibly in his head. It was obvious he was hesitant to take on a new Robin—after all look at the fallout with his old—yet he couldn’t deny the need for my help.

“If I refuse, what then?”

“Nothing, other than me helping you regardless. I figured out Batman’s identity, I’m sure I can figure out Red Hood’s eventually even without your tech. Just might be able to do it sooner with.”

Mr. Wayne groaned, “how come it’s such a Charlie Foxtrot when people find out my identity? Why is everyone so determined to make it so much more difficult.”

I didn’t reply because I wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or honestly what he meant.

“Fine, training begins tomorrow. I’ll have Alfred prepare you a room. While your parents are away it is best you stay here.”

Before I even had a chance to comprehend what had just happened, Mr. Wayne walked out the door, leaving me alone in the large dining room.

It wasn’t what I had ever pictured myself doing when I’d first started idolizing and following Batman, but for the city I loved, the man I respected, I would become the next Robin.

Chapter Text

There was no way I’d been wrong, but here we were twenty minutes after the appointed hour and Maroni’s men were moving the crates without any intervention. The number of guns within the crates would outfit Red Hood’s entire operation and greatly hurt Maroni’s. Yet, as Maroni’s men finished moving the goods into their trucks, neither Red Hood nor his men had yet to appear.

Guess I had been wrong.  

Just another way I was failing to reach expectations and cause for more sleepless nights to figure out where my research and preparations had failed. Good thing sleep was for the weak.

When Bruce agreed to take me on as his Robin, I knew I was starting behind where the other two had begun. I was thirteen and smaller than my peers, I’d be lucky if I ever graced 5’9 with my DNA and bulking up seemed like an impossible task. But I was determined to make it work. After all I was already proficient in parkour thanks to scaling the roofs and buildings of Gotham for my photography. I’d taken classes at a local dojo without my parents’ permission, so I wasn’t completely helpless if I ran into an unsavory someone. And not to mention I’d successfully stalked Batman from the shadows without him being the wiser. I had felt certain before stepping in front of Wayne Manor that evening like I had been a decent candidate for his next Robin, even without mentioning my mental fortitude.

How wrong I’d been.

It became glaringly obvious from the start I was well below the expectations Batman had for his Robin. It took months of me physically and mentally pushing myself in training with Batman, on top of the additional training I took upon myself, for him to feel I was ready to don the cape. Even then I was only allowed to observe, not to engage.

Two weeks of learning on the streets and it was still the case. Despite this operation feeling like it was my own, considering we were going off my intel and plan, I was still under strict orders to remain hidden. To be the eyes and ears, but never the hand.

If I’m being honest, I thought it unwise, the operation was large. Maroni had eight men alone and with the possible appearance of Red Hood and his men, the numbers would require multiple vigilantes to have a chance of being successful. But rather than include me as back-up, partner or whatever capacity Batman once saw his Robins, he called in Nightwing.

Despite their interactions being limited for the last four months, Batman had chosen him over me. Didn’t hurt, not at all, clearly when he’d taken me on it was just to be the behind-the-scenes guy, a different kind of Robin.

And yet I’d failed at even that tonight.

Did not help that I so wanted to impress Nightwing. I’d met Dick numerous times at Gotham’s elite events, and he was awesome. Getting to wear the colors he used to, living up to his name and getting his approval to do so, meant everything to me. Yet, when he walked into the Batcave just hours before the mission, his disappointment and anger were palatable. The feeling continued to grow throughout the brief as he acknowledged the bare minimum with Batman, and I remained invisible to him, a nuisance. Everything I’ve always been, even to my parents.

Maybe it was Dick siding with Jason. I’d been living in the Wayne Manor for almost four months—minus the week my parents were in town before quickly departing within days as predicted—the entire time I’d failed to run into Jason within the manor. I still saw him at school, but he never acted like we were sharing the same roof. Sometimes I wondered if he even knew.

“Any signs of Red Hood?” Batman’s gruff voice questioned as the final crate was loaded into the truck and the sliding door was lowered behind it.

“Negative,” replied Nightwing quickly. A fair share of frustration evident in his tone.

Taking a look out into the shadows one last time, I hoped to see a red helmeted figure hiding. I released a deep sigh when just like before I saw nothing, and the truck finally pulled away.

“Negative,” I responded sadly.

“Okay…” There was a silent pause and I waited with bated breath for the speech listing my failures that was sure to follow. “Nightwing and I will follow the truck. Perhaps Red Hood plans to attack on route. Robin return to the cave and monitor the truck’s movements from there. Check the surveillance cameras, maybe we missed him. Check the Dark Web too, I want to know if Red Hood somehow got tipped off.”

“Copy,” both Nightwing and I echoed into the comms.

When the taillights of the Batmobile and Nightwing’s motorcycle disappeared around the corner, I grappled down to the warehouses main floor determined to look around for any signs of tampering that might be evidence of Red Hood being aware of our presence.

Not knowing exactly what I was looking for and needing to return to the cave to monitor the truck swiftly, I opted for simply weaving around the remaining crates to see if anything stood out. Finding nothing, I moved towards the exit when the door before me opened.

Unfortunately, it was just my luck the person who entered happened to be Red Hood and there was nowhere to hide. He looked around the now mostly empty warehouse and released a few colorful expletives before his eyes settled on me.

“And who the fuck are you?” he growled through his voice distorter.

At that moment there were several responses running through my head, none of them were ‘I’m Robin.’ It felt wrong to make such a bold statement when I was not what Red Hood might expect of a Robin. I was alone, I was untested, and stupidly not calling for backup.

Annoyed by my silence, Red Hood answered for me, “are you supposed to be the new Robin or something?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a question, kid? You either are or you’re not. Or is it you’re not sanctioned by the big bad Bat?”

“I am.” I said with much more confidence than I currently had.

With his helmet, Red Hood’s expressions were completely hidden, but from the way his head tilted, and his hands went to his holsters he was clearly judging me. When his fingers relaxed around his guns, I knew he didn’t find anything he deemed as a threat.

“Are you the reason my shipment isn’t where it’s supposed to be?”

The words offered a moment of validation, I hadn’t been wrong, Red Hood had intended to take the shipment. “Maroni’s men moved them just a few minutes ago.”

Scoffing at my answer, Red Hood began to circle me slowly. My hands which were already holding my Bo staff tightened their grip anticipating a fight I knew I wasn’t ready for. “The great Batman let them…pfft typical.”

“They were here for you, not the shipment. The police will still confiscate it before the end of the night,” I stupidly said, giving away information I knew could backfire.

“Yet he left the replacement here alone to do what? Be a sacrifice if I still showed up? You’d think he’d learn what happens when his birds are left alone.”

The statement threw me for a second, I had suspected something had happened to Jason. The way he pulled away from Robin had been evidence enough, but I hadn’t pried for the details. My mistake obviously, as here was a crime lord with mocking me for having more information. Not to mention, I might have unknowingly put myself in similar danger.

His chuckle sounded inhuman through the distorter. “Don’t worry little bird. Not caring about his Robin is standard. Don’t feel special.”

Deciding the best course of action was to get out of Dodge, I planned to move forward and hit him once as a distraction before retreating in hopes of keeping my life. When I moved forward, he took his gun from his holster, and it rose as if in slow motion. My body reacted on instinct by drifting to the right, hoping to avoid any bullet that would be aimed at me. Before he could shoot a rope shot out from the side and pulled his gun away.

Red Hood growled as he turned to the person, or in this case hero, on the other side of the string. “I thought I ditched you.”

“Your men did a valiant job, but alas five thugs are nothing in comparison to a horde of zombies, or an army of knights. If you hurry you might be able to untie them from the third gargoyle on the right of the South Tower before the police arrive…but wait no, you’re going to be in jail along with them.”

Red Hood was not an idiot who believed, he as a human, would be able to go one on one with Ladybug and win. Not when her track record included superpowered humans of almost every variety. Which is why it should not have been much a surprise—yet it was—when Red Hood whipped out his second gun and didn’t hesitate before he shot me in the leg.

Guess I should have been thankful it was my leg and not my head, but at the moment all I could think about was the fact he’d shot me before running off like a coward.

The action paid off when instead of running after the crime lord Ladybug stopped to tend to my leg. Hours of screen time had been dedicated to watching her power, Miraculous Ladybug, I had been left wondering how the magic worked, whether it was limited to miraculous damage or not. As her hand began to glow a faint pink, it appeared my answer was an affirmative as the bullet wound began to heal.

Of all the questions I could ask, my mind spit out the stupidest first. “Shouldn’t you pull out the bullet?”

Ladybug chuckled and smiled playfully at me. “You probably didn’t notice, having been shot and all, but there is an exit wound on the other side of your leg.”

Right she was. I hadn’t noticed. The pain had been intense, causing me to fold in on myself like a deck of cards. I would have to add pain tolerance training into my curriculum. A single bullet wound to my leg should not have had such an effect, being hit was a part of the job after all.

As the light from her hands disappeared, Ladybug sat back on her haunches and surveyed me in much the same way I’d felt Nightwing and then Red Hood doing earlier. Like with Red Hood—due to his helmet—her face was impassive, and I didn’t know if it was good thing or bad thing. From the reception I’d received from earlier parties, I couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t good.

Never before in my life had I felt so small, like such a disappointment. Maybe at one point I’d felt it with my parents, but over time I’d gotten used to the feeling that it no longer bothered me. But this, this was new, this was fresh, this was from people I’d admired for reasons other than blood.

“So, he went and got himself a new Robin then?”

“I volunteered,” I muttered. Like it made a difference.

Behind her mask Ladybug’s eyes blew wide, like she had not anticipated an answer anywhere close to that. She looked down at me as if I wasn’t aware of what I’d volunteered for, which to be fair, I guess I really hadn’t.

“He needed someone; Batman was in the process of self-destructing.”

“And you thought another child partner was the answer?”

“Not like you were stepping up or anything.” I snarked under my breath. I admit I was a little tired of being put down for my ideas when I seemed to be the only one offering them in the first place.

Ladybug looked as if she’d been physically assaulted by my words as her head sprung back. Then her head hung as if she were ashamed.

“Désolé mon rouge-gorge. I have been a little upset with Batman and here I am taking it out on you.”

“Rouge-gorge? Red Robin?”

“Oui, all of my Robin’s have a nickname. You would not be Robin if you did not have one of your own. Considering your costume has more red than any other color, I thought it fitting. Non?”

If only she knew how her statement impacted me. It was like she was the first person truly accepting me as Robin. Maybe she did when her smile melted into a much warmer, authentic one, as if she understood my feelings without having to be told them.

“Now, I have to ask. What were you doing here without Batman? I hate to think what could have happened if I had not shown up?”

“Red Hood was supposed to show earlier, but when he didn’t Nightwing and Batman went to track the shipment thinking he might attack on route instead. I wasn’t supposed to be here for much longer, I was just doing a quick sweep before I left for the cave when he showed up.”

Ladybug looked down at me sheepishly. “So, my fault than. I finally saw the illusive Red Hood while out doing errands and followed him. Unfortunately, he and his men are better versed in my methods than me in theirs and they were able to throw me off a few times. It appears all my efforts did was delay him, preventing your ability to capture him as planned, and leaving you vulnerable. I’m sorry, I know how hard it is to plan an op like this.”

“Now I know I didn’t fail, I should be able to figure out his next hit relatively easily, as long as he doesn’t change his pattern. Seeing as I told him we were here for him; I suppose he will. Still, I’m sure I’ll be able to account for his changes pretty quickly. It will give me some time to train against guns. I wasn’t anticipating him shooting at me, I thought his MO was to keep innocent people from getting hurt. I guess he doesn’t see vigilantes as innocent though. I should probably also look into getting better kevlar for my leggings, it was almost like he knew they would be the most vulnerable part of my suit. Which also means he likely has more knowledge on the Bats than I anticipated. He must do a fair amount of research on his targets, meaning his patterns are a lot more thought out—”

Ladybug placed her hand on my arm, snapping me out of my monologue.

“While the rambling is adorable it is also quite concerning.” My head tilted in confusion, waiting for her to explain further. “I see too much of myself in you.”

Like a peacock, I felt myself preening at the comparison. “It’s not a good thing, mon rouge-gorge. Listening to your rambling proves you’re taking way too much upon yourself. Just like you took on Robin to help Batman…. You do not have to do everything, not alone at least.”

“It’s not that I have to, it’s that I’m best suited.” A single eyebrow kissing her forehead told me she questioned the validity of my statement. “For some things I am and I have the time.”

“This may be true” She looked at me pointedly. “Doesn’t mean you need to do it yourself, it’s okay to ask for help. For example, I may not be able to help with the tracking Red Hood using a computer—in fact I would likely do more harm than good. But I can help with the costume design—”

I scoffed at the idea I was incapable of doing it all. It was expected of me. Something my parents had ensured was instilled in me during my upbringing. Asking others for assistance, or accepting help was a form of weakness. Not to mention, people always went around claiming it not to be the case, yet those same people can’t help when you ask. Because they have all of their own stuff to occupy their time, or they look at you like you're failing because there is no way you have more on your plate than they do. In the end you usually end up doing it yourself, and wasting time waiting for that someone else to follow through with their help.

“—if I asked you to do that, then it would be an additional burden for you. I can manage just fine.”

“Kwamis, you really do remind me of myself way back when. Fortunately, I grew up a little—I still have moments—but I let people help more often... I know you can manage, but I’m sure you are taking on more than you should. If you’re like me, it means less sleep and more caffeine?”

It was like she was talking my language, the day I discovered coffee was glorious. The golden-brown nectar of the gods gave me renewed life and I have been worshipping it ever since. Something very few people seemed capable of understanding.

“How did you fix it?”

“Fix, ha. It’s a personality defect I’m afraid. I still end up trying to do more than I should, meaning I still have a caffeine addiction and suffer from permanent sleep deprivation.”

I chuckled a little at her tact. “So, you're judging me on these habits, while also essentially telling me at the same time it is a character flaw that can’t be changed.”

“Judging no, reminiscing on how at one point I allowed it to almost lead to a point of no return? Yes. It led to a lot of problems and if I didn’t have the emotional support in the form of small gods, I hate to think what would have likely happened. It’s in your nature to take on the burdens of others and make them your own, I know this because I do the same. And despite several people pointing it out to me, I mostly can’t help it. But I have learned when others offer to help, I shouldn’t dismiss it without considering it, and while sometimes there are things that I can do on my own, it might be easier and more effective to ask others to help.”

“You can’t expect to always ask for help?”

“True, you just need to observe the people around you and make note of their strengths and use them when you find every second of your day occupied by things other than rest and relaxation.”

The look I gave her wasn’t one that said I didn’t believe her, but more I was trying to wrap my mind around the idea she might be right.

“You worry that people will think less of you for accepting or asking for help?” I shrugged my shoulders in a way that didn’t confirm or deny. “From your statement of having volunteered to be Robin, I’m going to guess that you offered him your services and he didn’t seek you out.”

I nodded my head to agree with her statement.

“In which case he accepted your help…”

“Mhmm.”

“Do you think less of him for accepting it?”

“No, of course not. He just had a lot going on and needed someone to help.”

“Like you?” I stared at her, feeling like I’d walked into a trap but unable to disagree with her statement. “Just to drive the point home, perhaps we can both agree while Batman was good, when he joined the Justice League and then partnered with his first Robin, he became better?”

“You set me up.” Now I was certain Ladybug had always known this was going to be the conclusion of our little conversation.

“I just tend to help people realize the conclusions that are already there in the back of their mind. Like the angel or demon sitting on your shoulder. Playing which ever role you need at the moment.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Batman’s voiced boomed over the comms interrupting our conversation. “Red Hood is a no show, Nightwing and I will engage to keep the shipment away from Maroni. Robin have you made it back to the cave?”

Ladybug watched me as multiple replies fumbled around my mind, none of them seeming right to explain why I was still at the warehouse.

“Is that the Bats,” she mouthed, I nodded my head in the affirmative. “Good.”

From her hip she pulled her yoyo, flicking it open and pressing a button before lifting it to her ear. “Batman, its Ladybug. Red Hood will not be making an appearance as Robin and I scared him away for the evening. After you’re done there, perhaps you wouldn’t mind coming back to the warehouse to pick him up?”

There was a pause as Batman responded using a comm channel I was not on.

“Happily, while I am not thrilled you have a new Robin and especially one so young, I am happy to have some time to get to know him.”

I looked down at the ground, I had thought she might have seen me a worthy Robin, yet it appeared she was like the others.  

She returned her communicator to her hip and look down at me in question, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry you’re so disappointed in me.”

Ladybug’s arms immediately wrapped me in a hug. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been hugged, in fact knowing my parents I’m not even sure I ever was. It was awkward because I had zero clue what the normal response should be. Instinctually I tapped her back with an open palm, but as soon as I started I realized how much worse that was.

Pulling back slightly, Ladybug blushed behind her mask. “Sorry I should have asked.”

“No, it’s okay, I just don’t know how to respond to someone hugging me.”

“That’s not right,” she pouted in a way that looked to be covering a little bit of anger. “Well, if you want to hug—which again I should have asked—all you have to do is wrap your arms around in the same way and squeeze just a little bit. Want to try again?”

Nodding my head, she leaned back in for another hug. This time as my arms wrapped around her, she squeezed me as if to show me the right amount. It was nice but I immediately thought of the next question—which I didn’t really want to ask because I was enjoying the embrace—how long do hugs typically last for?

“I’m not disappointed in you mon rouge-gorge, I can tell you’re exactly what Batman needs. I just wish you weren’t a part of this life so young, maybe in five years?” She chuckled when I shook my head, if I’d stayed out of the game for that long Bruce probably wouldn’t have survived. “Batman and I might not be seeing eye to eye at the moment, but I’m always here for my Robins. You need help, I’ll be there. Whether you ask for it or not.” She pulled away, and I allowed my arms to drop to my side. “Okay?”

Knowing the habit of not asking for assistance would be hard to break, I acknowledged I was at least willing to try.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

“Are you also using money from medical to fund some of Fox’s projects?”

Bruce looked up from the papers he was working on to look at me. “No… What makes you believe Fox is taking money from medical?”

“Someone is using the same technique applied to R&D to siphon funds from medical—” a few clicks on the keyboard, “—to an account outside of the company?”

Moving over to my makeshift desk, Bruce looked over my shoulder to look at what I was. “Are you sure?”

Nodding my head, I pulled up the spreadsheet and used my finger to highlight the evidence of the duplicity.

“Can you follow the trail?”

I scoffed, “is water wet?”

Pulling the laptop he’d provided close, I began to type ferociously upon the keyboard. While the person responsible used a complicated coding mechanism, it was obvious they had merely copied Fox’s, with no real knowledge of how to make their own. Once it left W.E. the trail was rather easy to follow and in no time, I was able to determine the account it had been sent to.

“I found the account…though I’m sure it’s a fake, Kitty Koshka? Still, I press this button and the money is returned to W.E.”

“No!” Bruce desperately yelped, before clearing his throat and trying again. “That won’t be necessary. I know who it is, and I will deal with them personally.”

If I hadn’t been trained by the man to notice even the smallest of details through body language, I would have thought the man unbothered to learn he’d had a million dollars stolen from him. But his jaw was tightened even more than before, to the point that his teeth had to be grinding.

My eyes trailed his form as Bruce returned to his desk, a clear sign to drop the topic and return to work. But I’d learned the night before that not knowing things left one vulnerable, secrets cause damage, and the person with the most knowledge often had the most power. Bruce may have wanted to keep his secrets, but I would discover them one way or another. He could tell me, or I would probe elsewhere.

“Russian is one of the many languages my parents believed I needed to be familiar with, so of course I know the pseudonym Kitty Koshka, means Kitty Cat. Based on your reaction I can conclude the thief is Catwoman.”

Bruce’s jaw suddenly stopped moving and Bruce looked frozen in time.

“Which begs the question why you are okay with a villain stealing from you. More concerning though, is how she figured out what technique Fox uses to cover your laundering from yourself. Considering her lack of ability to cover her tracks once the money was outside W.E., I don’t think she was smart enough to devise the system on her own. So, someone made her aware of it, which means she is also aware that—"

Bruce suddenly rose from his desk, cutting me off mid-sentence with the sudden movement. “She is blackmailing me,” was thrown almost casually into the room, his back turned as he looked out at Gotham from his window.

“I kinda gathered, but you said you weren’t aware of the funds being stolen?”

Bruce threw his hands in the air, his frustration on full display. I found myself in awe at the raw expression of emotions. I hadn’t been sure he was capable of feeling. Sure, Brucie acted as the jovial, stupid, billionaire, but Bruce acted like he couldn’t feel, not anger, happiness, pride, nothing. Only when fighting the scum of Gotham could you see signs of emotions below the exterior, but which particular emotion at the time, one could only guess.

“The company assigned her as my temporary PA while Marinette was in Germany. Apparently, our background checks could use some improvements because a thief walked straight into my office and found the one thing that she could steal that I would actually care about…my identity.”

“How?” I’d seen the extremes Bruce went to cover up anything that could tie him to Batman. Even if someone had an idea of where to look, they’d likely lose a hand before they could get past the first countermeasure. His belt was set to explode if removed incorrectly for heaven’s sake.

“Found my cowl before I could properly stow it after an attack by Penguin. Of course, she thought by sharing her own she’d hold more cards. In a way she does and in others it gave me some leverage. Turns out she is just as protective of her identity as I am mine.”

“So, if you didn’t know she was after money, what was she claiming to want?”

“A chèque en blanc.”

“Is that why Jason is so upset? Because he didn’t approve of her getting away with whatever even at the expense of your identity?”

Bruce walked away from his desk and turned to sit on the couch. His head came to rest in his hands, and he looked like a man who had lost everything. I was beginning to wonder from his reaction if it were the truth.

“Yes and no. He figured out that I was letting Catwoman get away with things, but he doesn’t know why.”

I stepped away from my desk and followed Bruce over to the couch. But instead of sitting, I paced. For some reason this answered so many of my questions and at the same time answered none of them. Why would Bruce hide the why if they already knew the consequences? Especially, when it seemed to be destroying the relationships of those closest to him.

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“If you asked Alfred, it’s because I’m an idiot.” A ghost of a smile passed before it dropped, and his more serious expression returned. “At first, I didn’t want to involve the others, not let her sink her claws into them like she with me. I let her get away with things that I never should have because she was keeping to the terms. When the others found out about it, they wouldn’t let me explain.”

“Did you really try?”

I was met with silence, and I knew the truth. No, he hadn’t really tried, he was letting the distance between them be his punishment for whatever it was he’d allowed Catwoman to do.

“How deep is your entanglement.”

Bruce lifted his head from his hands and looked at me in confusion. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed his first answer.

“Do we have to worry about her claiming she’s carrying the Wayne heir, or assault, or anything like that?”

“No! Absolutely not! I admit she got away with physical contact more than I should have let her to buy myself time, but the moment she tried to take it further I always stopped her. I love—loved someone else, I would have never done that to her, even if she thinks otherwise now… As soon as Selina Kyle suggested a romantic relationship, I made HR aware and gave them a paper trail to go after her if she did anything other than expose my identity in the future.”

“Okay, so that is at least one thing we don’t have to worry about. We just need to find something other than her identity that we can use as leverage to keep her quiet. While also getting you, Dick, and Jason in the same room to talk this out.”

“No Tim. This is for me to fix.” Bruce stood from the couch and placed his hand on my shoulder. I hate to admit at that moment I looked up at him in awe, like he was dressed all in black and I was looking at my hero accepting me. “Thank you for listening, but I won’t involve you, just like I won’t involve the other boys.”

“How did that work out for you?”

I swear on my life, a smile briefly crossed his face, though I am sure that he would tell you it was a snarl. “I—”

“Mr. Wayne?” his intercom sparked to life with the voice of his assistant on the other side. “Just a friendly warning, drama’s coming.”

Bruce looked at his intercom like it had spoken an unknown language. I didn’t blame him; the statement was odd for an assistant. He swiftly walked over to his phone, pressing the intercom, “Care to elaborate, Ms. Kubdel?”

“And miss out on the show? Afraid not. I’ve already said too much. Good luck,” she sung before disconnecting.

Bruce stared at his phone as if it were a bomb waiting to explode.

“That was cryptic.”

“Quite.”

Fortunately, we didn’t have long to ponder when the wooden door to his office swung open and a woman around Bruce’s age stalked into his office. Like a Valkyrie, the beauty stormed into the room looking ready to tear its occupants apart. Her eyes quickly glanced at me before moving over to Bruce. He swallowed thickly and placed his hands upon his desk as if it were needed to hold himself upright.

“Mr. Wayne, I hope you can imagine my surprise when I heard you had adopted yet another child.”

“You’ve heard wrong Ms. Dupain-Cheng, Tim is my neighbor, I have simply taken it upon myself to look after him while his parents are away.”

Opening her mouth to say something, she seemed to think better of it when she closed her mouth again.  “Still, you should have let me know.”

“Why?” When I looked over to Bruce, I expected to see an expression of confusion, but instead I saw hope. When she didn’t reply, Bruce tried again. “Who told you Marinette?”

“Dick told me he had a new brother…you couldn’t expect me to not want to meet him.”

“I wasn’t aware that we got divorced and somehow you got partial custody of my boys.”

Bruce’s pain was evident in his voice, as if he was fully aware that was what had happened, and it was killing him. Which meant I was looking at the woman he loved—no, still loved.

“Um—well,” she swallowed and straighten the shoulder that had briefly dipped. “How could I not have joint custody of my sons. And since we’re clearing the air, might as well make it known that I also reserve the right to have joint custody of all further children to make sure you don’t mess up.”

Bruce’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, a steady blush rushing to his cheeks. “My children will only be yours,” he answered softly, just above a whisper. “But I haven’t adopted Tim.”

“Do you think of him as one of your sons?” she asked with a warmth that hadn’t been present in her face since entering the room.

Looking at Bruce, I was surprised to find him nodding his head, it left me smiling like a fool as he claimed me.

“Then I better get to know him. Come on Tim, I think we could both use some coffee.” Turning without a response, Marinette exited the door as quickly as she came. Clearly expecting me to follow without hesitation.

Frozen to my spot, Bruce snuck up behind me, pushing my back lightly in the direction Marinette had disappeared. Before I slipped out of the door, I turned back around to look at the man who considered me a son. He smiled at me bittersweetly and I understood his desire for me to have this, while wishing he was welcomed too.

Marinette was waiting for me outside of the office, having a whispered conversation with Ms. Kubdel. When the pair noticed me, Marinette straightened, smiling brightly, while Ms. Kubdel simply winked conspiratorially.

“Ready Tim?” I nodded my head, and she tilted hers towards the elevator banks before moving in the same direction.

When we walked to the little café on the main floor of the building, I was a little surprised that she was actually taking me to a coffee shop. Most adults felt they would be judged and crucified for taking someone so young. But when she walked up to the counter and ordered a drink the barista appeared to know as her standard order, she didn’t even flinch when he gave her a critical look for ordering the same for me.

When she handed me the special elixir, I immediately took a sip despite knowing its contents were likely too hot. The caffeinated goodness was surprisingly the perfect temperature and I convinced myself that the impact was instantaneous. I felt invigorated and ready to take on the world.

“This is the ultimate gift from the gods.” I joked as she led us to a table isolated from the rest.

She laughed, “would you believe me if I said it was created by a god?” She winked at me as if she weren’t joking at all. “It’s the Marinette special! Sweetness from a single pump of caramel, lots of caffeine from multiple shots of expresso, and an instantly drinkable temperature thanks to being poured into a cold brew after the third time I burned my mouth. Just don’t be surprised if they won’t give it to you without me. I had to sign a special waver saying I wouldn’t sue them if it killed me.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, but don’t worry. I would never give it to someone who didn’t already have a pretty high tolerance for caffeine. Based on the dark circles under your eyes, yet your ability to remain standing, I’d say this isn’t your first jug of coffee.”

Nodding my head, I contemplated signing a similar contract, it felt like I could conquer the whole day on this single cup of coffee.

“So, I’ll admit this was not a part of my original intention when storming Bruce’s office. I expected you to be at school.”

“I’m only in school because my parents don’t want to hire someone to legally watch me at home while they’re gone. I’m halfway to a college degree in business and computer science from online schooling, so it’s all just a big formality.”  

“That’s quite impressive, but I imagine lonely too.”

“I keep busy.” My thumb grazed the paper cup in my hand. I didn’t like to think about just how lonely and isolating my life was. I thought it would be better as Robin, but so far it had proven to almost be the opposite.

“Hmm, keeping busy and being happy aren’t the same thing.”

“Who said I wasn’t happy?” I didn’t remember saying anything of the sort, in fact my interactions with Marinette were limited to less than five minutes of conversation all told and I was really happy with my Marinette Special.

“No one said it, but since I’ve met you I’ve only seen one genuine smile, the moment Bruce said he saw you as a son.”

Blushing at her observation, I felt stupid for my noticeably strong reaction to something he said, and likely didn’t mean.

“Bruce is a complex creature; his true emotions are often hidden behind a façade, meaning they are often misread or thought to not exist at all.”

“Is that what happened between the two of you?”

Marinette looked away and bit her lower lip. “You know about that huh?”

I tried to keep an impassive face, because, no, I didn’t know, not really.

“After years of being in a city where the majority of people tried to hide their emotions, I thought I’d learned to read people. I was wrong, in the end I saw emotions that weren’t there.”

The expression on her face mirrored what was on Bruce’s when Marinette entered the office. They were both still hurting, and while Bruce had more to make right, by not listening she had prevented herself from having a chance to move forward or even on.

“You know that’s not true right? His temp, Selena Kyle was blackmailing him and made it appear as if they were in a relationship.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, searching her mind for it all to make sense. I knew the moment it clicked because her face relaxed and I saw the same sparkle of hope in her eyes that I had seen in Bruce’s. She shook her head and smiled like it explained everything.

Which to be fair it did, but not with the limited information she had or rather had yet to ask for.

“Let me guess that all of the misunderstandings are a result of him not realizing that he doesn’t have to fix every problem by himself?”

As if there was a summary button, “bout sums it up.”

“Stupid Bat,” she muttered below her breath, but I’d heard it. There was no way that she knew, but it would explain why she didn’t have to probe for more.

“Does he know that you know?”

“Does he know that I know what?”

“Really Marinette?”

Closing her eyes and scrunching her nose, she tilted her head as if berating herself. “You shouldn’t have heard me and even if you did you should have acted like you didn’t. For all you knew I’d only suspected, but you just confirmed it and your own knowledge of it.”

I cringed. What could I say? I’d only been a vigilante for four months, active for less than two weeks, it was a learning curve.

“But how did you know?” I asked as the cogs inside my head began to spin to find their own answer to the question.

“Spend time with Bruce when he’s not trying to be Brucie, and then some time,”—she looked around to make sure no one was listening— “with the other one and you figure it out pretty quickly.”

“How often have you spent with the other one, he’s not one to really hang around people.”

“Um, I-um met him a long time ago and he left quite the impression.”

“When?”

“Am I being interrogated?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know. I met him…back when the Justice League came to Paris for Hawkmoth 2.0?”

“Is that a question? Should have gone with having met him on the streets here, seeing as you wouldn’t have met him unless you were a hero yourself in Paris. The League was in and out because the heroes not so politely told them to leave…. immediately…which they did.”

Marinette’s face paled, clearly not expecting my knowledge on the subject, and I could see from the fluttering of her eyes, she was searching for a new answer.

“I was Multimouse,” she stated confidently, but quietly.

Just like that, the answers to the universe were exposed. One plus one equaled two, red and blue made purple, and Marinette was not Multimouse—or rather, not only.

“Sure Ladybug,” I muttered at the same low volume she had said Bruce’s secret identity.

Marinette choked on her coffee, spitting some onto my face. I grabbed a napkin and made a dramatic showing of wiping it away.

“How?”

“A few things actually... I wonder if this is how Sherlock feels when he exposes a big case.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but then she shrugged her shoulder with a little smile. “You’d be the first person to know without me telling them. So, color me intrigued, how did you figure it out?”

“In no particular order other than the timeline of events. Last night you admitted that you saw Red Hood on your errand, which meant that Ladybug is local despite attempting to pass herself off as still located in Paris with her strong accent.” Marinette’s nose scrunched like she hadn’t realized she’d said that. “Second, the day after Ladybug discovers that Batman has a new Robin, you show up saying you recently found out Bruce adopted. The excuse that Dick told you would have held up if not for the fact you were genuinely surprised to learn he hadn’t actually adopted me. Dick knew that. I’m sure he wouldn’t have let you make that assumption and based on the time they returned the previous evening and the time of his first class you wouldn’t have had time to discuss me.”

Marinette leaned in closer with a little smile on her face. I’m sure that if I’d been anyone other than Robin, she’d likely be freaking out at how I’d made these deductions and how to hide my body, but as it was, she looked thoroughly impressed.

“The cherry was you admitting to being Multimouse.”

She sat up suddenly and looked rather offended. “How in the world did that give me away.”

“Simple actually. I’ve watched hours of your fights in Paris. Particularly the one’s were you used multiple miraculous. While the magic hides your identity quite well, it can’t change your fighting style, posture, etc. I always suspected that Multimouse was just another alias of Ladybugs.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be, she was a failsafe for when people started to suspect.”

“The people it worked on must have been oblivious.” Marinette looked down fondly at her coffee, a smile gracing her lips and a chuckle slipping past her mouth. “You didn’t answer me as to whether he knows or not.”

“Have you not been able to deduce the answer?”

“Just looking for confirmation.”

“As far as I know he doesn’t, but after your fine display I might have to reconsider my answer considering he’s supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective.”

“I think you’ve given him a little more credit than deserved at the moment, considering how his life has been falling apart since Catwoman.”

Marinette’s expression turned serious, “has she told anyone?”

“Not that I know of. She’s just been extorting him to let her do what she wants and taking money from the company.”

“Good. I’ll take care of it. She won’t be a problem come tomorrow morning.”

I looked at her in horror, “you can’t kill her!”

She laughed, “I didn’t say I was going to kill her; I have some magic that allows me to erase certain memories, she won’t remember anything pertaining to Batman or Bruce Wayne when I’m done with her.”

I nodded my head in acknowledgement, not sure what to say to that—cause how?

“Then we can start trying to correct the rest of the problems Bruce has created for himself. It’ll take a lot of work, but he isn’t the only one self-destructing because of all this.”

“Jason?”

“Yes, by trying to take care of this himself, Bruce has made Jason feel like he doesn’t care. I always knew it wasn’t the case, but appearances are often times strongly deceiving.”

“I know the feeling.”

Marinette looked over at me sadly, before moving from her seat and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. Having been instructed by her the night before, I knew how to respond this time, wrapping my own arms around her and resting my head on her shoulder.

“The last six months have been trying for everyone because none of us have been letting others in to help. You’ve taken a big step in helping him, but now you’re not alone.”

Chapter Text

A board on my balcony broke as I landed on it from the roof. I did nothing to rectify it, other than remove my foot from the rotting wood. The place I rented for my safehouse wasn’t the nicest, but definitely not the worst place I’d been in. Just happened to be one of the better places where the landlord only cared to be paid, not if he rented to a fifteen-year-old with a fake ID.

Inside my small apartment the only thing I wanted to do was collapse into my bed and sleep until forever.

The day had been long, trying to finalize plans that might finally drive Maroni out of the east side of my territory. Then of course, just as I called it a night, there was an altercation in one of my warehouses that took too long to deal with.

All of this was after a long day of school I still attended to maintain appearances to keep Bruce and Marinette from learning about my true movement. Bruce still needed to think I’d chosen to move in with Marinette; all the while Marinette being none the wiser to me no longer occupying a room in the home of wayward souls on the nights I didn’t spend with her.  I had shit to do in order to really clean up Gotham and I couldn’t have Ladybug or Batman interfering more than they already were as civilians or hero.

As soon as I closed the blinds to the large balcony window, I removed the ‘mask’ that allowed me to enter the darker side of Gotham. No one could have any clue I was the infamous Red Hood. He needed to be an older, hardened criminal in order to be respected, something someone my age would be unable to gain. Therefore, the choice of a helmet and not a hood, despite my name choice.

The name Red Hood was derived from my purpose being similar to Robin Hood’s. For trademark reasons and my desire to not be associated with a Robin in any form, I obviously couldn’t take the name. So, I kept the hood as a head tilt to the man who influenced my actions, while choosing the color red to reflect the wake I leave.

Discarding my leather jacket to the bed, followed by my shirt and kevlar, I was seconds away from removing my pants when someone cleared their throat. Grabbing the gun from my holster, I took aim in the direction I’d heard the noise, only to find nothing.

As I was about to pull the curtains to check the balcony I noticed a small distortion in the chair. Barely noticeable, it was like a photo overlaying another but misaligned slightly, causing the chair to look like its leg was splintered.  

Releasing a deep sigh, I looked up to the ceiling and begged for the kwamis to give me strength.

“How did you get in? Or is the better question how did you know I was here?”

Dropping the illusion Lady Noire shimmered into existence. Her normally green accents were white, and her hair-tail was teased to look fluffier, signs of the addition of the Fox Miraculous.

“After the first Hawkmoth, I thought about how lucky I’d been that he’d never followed me or Chat Noir after an akuma to discover our identities. It would have been too easy after all, as most of the time I returned to my balcony to transform back. Stupid really and something I’ve learned to be more cognitive of since. But I thought hey, maybe I’m not the only one stupid enough to get complacent.

Imagine my excitement for it to work, then to have turn into disappointment with the realization you’re Red Hood.” The fox tail necklace punctuated her point by beeping on cue angerly.

“Trixx, divide.” The fox kwami flew from her necklace and into the waiting hands of Lady Noire. Trixx glared disappointedly at me, never breaking her glare as she was sucked back into the necklace as Lady Noire stowed it.

“You can go ahead and drop your transformation. I suppose we’re gonna havta talk.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” Her voice was cold, distant, containing none of the warmth I’d always associated with Marinette.

I took a deep breath and swallowed her disappointment. I knew she wouldn’t approve, but I hoped she would allow me to explain before she cast her final judgement.

“You can’t be serious! You know me.”

“I thought I did. That was before you turned into this”–her hand waved at the helmet still laying on my bed—"a murderer.”

“I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Is that why there is a trail of death with your name on it, specifically two, extremely powerful mob bosses.”

I scoffed and moved away from her to grab my sweats. “All I asked was to make sure they never came for their territories again. Not my fault their men took it upon themselves to accomplish it with their deaths.”

Lady Noire growled, stopping me from stepping into the bathroom. “You cannot stand there Jason and pretend you are not complicit in their deaths or the other deaths that happen when your men are following your orders. The orders of a child.”

I recrossed the room to stand in front of Marinette. “When you were my age, you were making the same calls, often with the same results, the only difference is you had a magical cure to clean up after you.”

The braid that acted as her tail, swished aggressively behind her and a noise came from her chest sounding like a cat’s warning of an impending attack. “Do not compare my fight against Hawkmoth and others to your actions as a crime boss. You’ve become the very thing you once promised to protect the people of Gotham from.”

“It’s the only way to truly protect them.”

The growling stopped and one of Lady Noire’s eyebrows rose in question though the rest of her remained distant and cold. She studied me for a moment, a decision made when she released Plagg. The black cat kwami flew up to my face and studied me briefly with similarly judging eyes to his owner.

“You might want to explain to Pigtails here what you’re thinking. I won’t lie and say that you’re not walking a very slippery slope where you stand to lose yourself in whatever crusade you think you’re on, kid.”

I nodded my head, knowing that it was best not to question Plagg. After spending a lot of time with him in Marinette’s apartment I’d come to find a friend in the small creature. In some way we understood each other.

“Go change, give her a second to calm down.... You got any cheese in this dump?”

Tilting my head in the direction of the fridge, I followed his advice and quickly escaped to the bathroom. If I hoped to get Marinette to understand my crusade as Plagg had called it, I would need to be rational, articulate, and curb my own anger and defenses.

What I was doing was not rash, I’d thought about it for a while before I’d concluded it was what needed to be done. I needed her to see that.

With his cheese in hand, Plagg phased into the bathroom without caring about my state of undress.

“What are my chances of getting her to understand?”

“Considering that I understand your reason for all this about as much as I understand why the only cheese you have in this place is cheddar…I can’t speculate. But the longer you wait to try…”

Taking a deep breath, I left the bathroom to find Marinette sitting back in the chair, her eyes trailing me as I took my own seat on the edge of the bed. I felt like a small child about to be lectured while having to explain my actions.

Who was I kidding? That was exactly what was occurring. Despite my bravado I was only a child, but I was also following her advice of making it while faking it. I couldn’t change my age, so I had to fake that part by using a mask. But I was making it, I was changing Gotham for the better, I was certain of it. She just had to see it that way.

“Let’s start with what you think you’re doing to protect Gotham.”

“Okay,” I took a deep breath. “Gotham is a cesspool of morally corrupted men and women who will do anything to have power. The rapist uses his dominance to fulfil lustful desires, it makes them feel powerful. The mob bosses want to increase their coffers and influence. Their many minions get a taste of that power when fulfilling their bosses’ orders and believe if their successful they can somehow get their own.”

“So what? You got a taste and want it now, despite the cost to others?”

“No! I realized the only way to truly stop them was to remove their power. So, if I broke a rapist leg to where they may never stand again, I’ve ensured they never have an ability to overpower someone.”

“You became a crime lord to what…steal their source of power?”

“Ah...yeah, but it’s more complicated than that. For years Batman has tried to put the big bosses behind bars, at the same time other crime bosses have killed one another over territory disputes. Yet Gotham still suffers. Why? Because he could put every single boss behind bars, but their power still reaches past the prison walls. And I could put a bullet through each of their heads, but the reality is that the mob is like a hydra, you kill one, at least one more will come to take their place.

As long as there is a drug and gun demand in Gotham, there will always be a criminal willing to supply them. Getting rid of one boss won’t stop another from taking their place. I’ve come to realize this and decided that I would be that new boss.”

“Wh—what?”

“I come in and fill that void. I know it sounds crazy but think about it. If it doesn’t really matter what we do, as there is always a demand for a crime lord to provide for a certain demand…why not become one and control the narrative?”

“Con-control the narrative…how?”

“I supply drugs, nothing hard and never near schools, my dealers know the consequences of selling to children. It’s not a perfect solution but it keeps the number of kids getting addicted down…at least in my territory. I keep my kids safe from being poached from other bosses and I make sure that they are protected from other criminal behavior Gotham is notorious for, like trafficking.”

“Yet you still require those in your territory to pay you for this service.” Marinette growled, having at least not completely picked apart the rest of my argument.

Yet.

“What kind of crime boss would I be if I didn’t. The men that offer protection don’t work for free. It’s not like they have the same desire for a better Gotham like I do. Their reasons are varied, mostly to bring food home to their table. And if you can’t tell from my digs, I’m not exactly doing this for the money either.”

The edge of Marinette’s lips lifted before quickly falling.

“If I didn’t require them to pay, someone else would. Difference is that I offer real protection because I want them to be safe. I think of it as if they are paying for a private police force that actually protects them.”

“But you still kill people, Jayjay.”

The use of my nickname felt like a signal she might come around. Maybe not completely, maybe she would never be able to because of the methods I used, but enough to not hate me for it.

“I have never killed someone, but I’m not going to lament the fact that bad people meet their ends because of my orders. It’s never someone innocent.”

“But who are you to decide if someone is innocent. What happens when you discover one of those men you let die was brand new, just joined that day because he couldn’t afford the hospital bills for his sick baby sister? What if it’s a man who has three children at home whose wife left them, and he has to support them alone but because of his past criminal record he can’t get a different job. What if it’s one of your street kids who was never been given a chance or opportunity to do something different.”

“If it isn’t me, it’s the crime boss who would have existed in my stead.”

“Do you truly use that excuse to rationalize your behavior and relieve yourself of guilt?”

“NO! I live with my guilt knowing that in war sometimes sacrifices have to be made to reach the end goal for the greater good.”

“Oh, Jayjay,” she muttered under her breath before coming to sit beside me on the bed. “I can’t fault your logic; it makes sense in a twisted way and to be honest I think we all know that we can’t get rid of the mob without first getting rid of the demand they supply, which truthfully seems impossible in our lifetime. Admitting it means that we have to acknowledge that we’re destined to inevitably fail in our crusade. And by admitting failure we risk the chance of missing a different solution that could appear while fighting the good fight.”

“I don’t think there is a different solution.” A hint of uncertainty was present behind the conviction I was trying to exude.

“There is always a different solution, one we just haven’t thought of yet. But I do know the answer is not to step into the world you are trying to fight and become an active participant. You stand to get lost in it and then destroyed by it, or at the very least broken. “

I was about to protest her comment. After all I would never mourn the death of the bosses who put street kids lives on the line. Or men who killed others just for fun. Or those who put drugs in the hands of small children, so they become addicted and therefore lifelong buyers—as short as their lives then became.  

Marinette stopped me before I said any of that probably because she already knew.

“I’m not talking about men like Maroni, I know they’re up there with the Joker. Men who’ve been given a chance time and time again to change and come back sometimes worse than when they were put away. I’m talking about the nameless guys whose stories you won’t know until you take a second to look at them as someone other than a thug. Some of them aren’t good, sure, but you can’t make that decision in the five second interaction you or your men have with them before you kill them. They are the ones that will haunt your dreams, whose faces’ you’ll enprint onto others.

You’re still a kid, so the true cost of your decisions on your soul isn’t as obvious and by the time you realize, it’ll be too late. Maybe taking over the territory and offering protection is a viable solution. But it isn’t a burden you should take, you’re just a baby.”

Her hand came to rest on my cheek, and I leaned into the comfort despite whining, “I am not a baby,” much to her enjoyment.

“You will always be my baby, Jayjay. And I can’t allow you to continue doing this,” her hand stopped my protest, “not without some help and some reworking to make sure you don’t fall in too deep.”

“Ladybug is going to become a crime boss?” I chuckled at the absurdity of my own statement.

“No, but you’re not going to remain one either.”

“You don’t get to decide,” I protested.

“Jason Todd-Wayne,” the warmth had returned to her gaze, but it was stern, “you may think because of everything that’s happened to you, you’re older and wiser, but you’re still a child. You do not get to decide to become a crime lord. I know that I won’t be able to stop you from trying to get justice for Gotham, but your father and I are going to make sure that you are doing it relatively safely and in a way that is truly best for Gotham and yourself.”

“Do not mention that man,” I said angerly, standing from the bed. As quick as my anger flared it was replaced with fear. “You can’t tell him.”

Marinette sighed, taking my hands to guide me back onto the bed beside her. “I have to tell him. Primarily, because he is your father, and more importantly because Batman is after Red Hood.”

“I can keep Red Hood away from them,” I’d evaded them several times, mostly because I knew how Batman operated. I could do it indefinitely if I needed to. “You can help me.”

“No, I can’t.” Hurt flashed across my face, she squeezed my hand in response, sighing heavily. “Even if I wanted to—which let me be clear I don’t—you shot Tim, Batman won’t rest until Red Hood is stopped.”

“Replacement you mean? He’ll put an end to me for shooting him in the leg, but I get beaten to death by the Joker and he could care less.”

“That isn’t true Jayjay. If you take a second to really think about it you know that.”

“What, you’re on his side all the sudden? What changed? He come crawling back and you just accepted him like a cheap—"

“JASON! I’m going to pretend you weren’t about to say something extremely offensive about me because I know it’s coming from a place of hurt and a lack of understanding.”

She was right I was about to say something terribly hurtful. After what he did to the both of us, I could never see myself forgiving him and I had no clue how she could.

“Jay, he does care, and he did that night too. He lashed out at me for killing Joker because he didn’t want to admit he failed you. He got too caught up in believing he had to take care of Catwoman without help and unfortunately he created a bigger problem by doing so.”

“Wow Pixie, didn’t know that you were into that kind of thing.” I quipped.

“Jason, I am going to kindly tell you to shut up.” My mouth instantly sealed. When Marinette got mad, woo, even the kwamis couldn’t help who the anger was directed at. It had never been directed at me before, she usually enjoyed my humor. “Batman was not with Catwoman, she was blackmailing him. For obvious reasons he couldn’t tell Marinette, but he didn’t want to involve you to protect you from getting entangled, as stupid, and short sighted as it was.”

“So, he told you this and now you forgive him?” I threw myself back to lay on the bed. Sure, Catwoman blackmailing him was nice for Marinette. For me, I wasn’t sure what it meant.

Marinette laid down carefully beside me, looking up at the ceiling, which I quickly realized had a lot of water damage.

“No, I haven’t talk to him about it. Tim told me.”

The mention of my replacement had my heart stutter, it hurt to know that not only had Bruce been able to easily replace me with a new son and Robin, but Marinette was also able to easily fold him into her own life. I felt tears starting to gather at the edge of my eyes and I struggled to keep them from coming through in my voice. 

“Wow, I guess Tim is a better replacement than I had thought. So much that Bruce told him what was going on and not me…or you, apparently.”

“Don’t be jealous Jayjay, there is no reason to be. He isn’t replacing anyone. You chose not to be Robin if you recall, and Batman needed someone. Tim volunteered to save Bruce from himself. Your near-death experience and absences had taken a toll on Bruce because he loves you and doesn’t know how to fix this. Add on Catwoman still threatening to expose him at every turn, he’s a shadow of the man we knew.”

“You haven’t talked to Bruce?”

“Not since that night…no, not really. He isn’t ready to tell me he’s Batman, so it’s not exactly a conversation I could have with him. Plus, since Tim told me—who yes by the way also figured out I was Ladybug—I’ve been focused on dealing with Catwoman.”

“Did you kill her?” I said half joking, but also curious considering.

“Kwami’s no, why is that everyone’s first conclusion?”

“Well what else were you going to do to her when you found her. Hanging her from a gargoyle? Not likely to stop her from talking.”

Marinette laughed, “no, it wouldn’t, so erased her memory instead.”

“You can do that?” My hands instantly went to my head. I was at awe of her power, but also a little frightened.

“I can do a lot of things Jayjay, but I don’t do them unless I have no other choice.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of us. It was comfortable, like it had been before the whole Bruce episode. Like I had my family back, well at least half of it.

I rolled over and placed my head on her shoulder like I used to. “I’m not sure I can forgive Bruce.”

Marinette’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, while the other ran through my hair. “That’s your call Jay, but maybe you should hear him out before you decide.”

“Maybe you should also apologize for shooting the kid.” Plagg flew into my face. “Might keep the big bad Bat from hanging you from a gargoyle.”

“I only did it so I could get away, I knew Ladybug could heal him.”

“Be that as it may, you still need to apologize because being shot is not a walk in the park. Not to mention he didn’t know I could heal him.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course, I am. Now come on. We’re going home.”

“This is my home.”

“No Jason, this is a dump. You are fifteen and need to be with your family. So, you’re coming back home.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Chapter Text

The type of anxiety coursing through my body had never been a problem since I first started performing trapeze without a net. Like it was my first time on patrol, the pressure was becoming a constant itch needing to be scratched.

All because I was uncomfortable with the awkwardness that was standing on a rooftop with Batman and his new Robin. It was as if there was a literal elephant in the room with the distance between us, one we were choosing to ignore. The relationship between Bruce and I wasn’t straight-up hostile. I called once in a blue moon to update him about classes and helped as Nightwing when asked, but I didn’t go out of my way to interact with him. In all honesty, I didn’t know how to anymore, not without a mission to act as a distraction, a buffer.

Then there was Robin, Tim as I’d come to learn. I’d been a dick the first time we met with mask, holding him responsible for yet another child becoming Robin, and feeling like accepting him in any way was a betrayal to Jason. I’d quickly realized it was wrong of me, but each time I tried to apologize I froze. Like Bruce, I found it hard to admit wrongdoing out loud.

There was some time to ask for a moment alone to do so now, but we were currently waiting for Ladybug and the last thing I wanted was my genuine apology to be timed.

A ping came from Robin’s wrist gauntlet, as if punctuating my thought, causing him to look at the computer he’d integrated into it. His head suddenly snapped up and he smiled behind my shoulder. Following his line of site found Lady Noire landing on the roof silently.

Batman was too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice and continued to gaze out into the city in the opposite direction. With a wink in both our direction, Lady Noire stalked over to Batman like the cat she was and him the pray.

Robin shook his head at her behavior, but it was nice to see her in a playful mood once more. So much so, it never crossed my mind to warm Batman before she placed her hand upon his shoulder.

Batman grabbed the offending limb in an attempt to throw the ‘attacker,’ but Lady Noire was prepared and gracefully flipped over his head with his cape in tow. He struck out blindly but after the fourth swing that only hit air, Batman hastily fought with his cape to get it unhooked from his belt and back in the correct position.

Finding it was Lady Noire who’d duped him, Batman crossed his arms and scowled at her. Her smile only grew in response, causing the moon light to reflect off of her elongated canines, making her look very sorry!

“Batman,” she finally said taking him in like a cool drink of water.

The act caused Batman’s jaw to fall to the ground at the extreme shift of behavior since the last time we saw her after saving Robin from Red Hood.

Picking his jaw back up in order to form words, Batman just managed to breathe out, “Lady Noire.”

The mischievous smile directed at him softened before she turned to properly acknowledge Robin and me with familiar hugs.

“Why are we here?” Batman attempted to turn the conversation back to business…and him.

As usual Lady Noire just rolled with it, but not without smirking at the obviousness. “I found the identity of Red Hood.”

“How?” Robin pouted like he was upset he hadn’t been the one to figure out Red Hood’s identity, what little I knew of the kid he just might be.

Batman ignored Robin’s question, choosing his own. “Do you have a plan to apprehend him?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Lady Noire responded as if merely mentioning the weather, “it’s already done.”

“Why call us here then?” My body was still tense as if preparing for an ambush, despite knowing the hero would never set us up.

“Ah,” Lady Noire grabbed the end of her braided tail and began to play with it as if nervous. “This is where I have to admit to a few things to properly explain.”

“Such as?” Batman growled.

Her nails began to pick at her tail as if removing shrubbery to purposely avoid looking at Batman. “Things that will likely need to be discussed in a more secure location. Such as say… the Batcave.”

Batman crossed his arms, and I mimicked his pose after closing the distance between us. Asking to go to a more secure location wasn’t concerning but asking to go to the cave was like asking to share identities. It may not have been an issue in the past, but with Lady Noire’s sudden shift in behavior, mixed with her vagueness about apprehending Red Hood…Batman and I were likely on a similar wave link of thinking this was not our Lady Noire.

Robin in contrast looked guilty like he knew we were not dealing with a case of body snatching. “I think it would be advisable to move to the cave. “

“Great,” Lady Noire clapped her hands together before placing a pair of glasses onto her face.

“Wait,” Batman interrupted. “No offense Lady Noire, we don’t just let anyone into the cave. If we go, you’ll need to be blindfolded.”

The mischievous smile from before returned as an aqua light covered her, before leaving her appearance changed. From her hand a portal shot out right in front of us. “No worries, I already know where it is.”

Witnessing the tension radiating from Batman, she quickly amended her statement with, “hence the reason for a more secure location.”

Robin walked through without waiting for anyone’s permission. Looking at Batman for an indication what to do, he didn’t take his eyes off Lady Noire, so I stepped through appearing as confident as Robin, hoping the other side would have answers.

In less time than I anticipated Batman followed.

Keeping his back to the portal, he missed Lady Noire stepping through, dropping her additional transformation and a horse like creature tumbling from the glasses into her hands. All before disappearing with her removal of the glasses.

Without even turning to acknowledge her Batman growled, “now would be a good time to explain.”

It took her a second to respond as she was busy taking in the cave. When she landed on the large briefing table, she gestured towards it. “I think it best we sit. There is a lot to discuss.”

Despite his discomfort, Batman went to sit at the table without additional coaxing. The slight movement of his thumbs in his fisted hand were the only sign of him not being as unaffected as he tried to appear. Every delay was clearly a test of Batman’s patience and Lady Noire seemed to be aware as she looked guilty coming to sit across from him.

“Clearly if I know the location of the Batcave, I know your identities.”

Batman said nothing using a technique I’d witness almost every interrogation. Criminals tended to give away more information when they felt the need to fill the intimidating silence. Did it speak to the state of their relationship that he was using such a technique on her now?

“I’ve known for a while, and you probably feel like I should have told you. I would have too if I was just Ladybug, but I’m not. I am also the Guardian, giving away my identity puts more at risk than myself. I knew that if I told you I knew yours, you would ask for mine and I wouldn’t be able to deny you.” She rambled out quickly.

Batman’s mouth opened to retort, but she wasn’t done speaking, the act reminding me of someone, but I couldn’t place my finger on it. “I’m not suggesting your identity is less important than mine…okay yes, I guess I am. In my defense, when I figured it out I was still learning who both Batman and Bruce Wayne were on a personal level. I wasn’t sure how you would respond or who you might tell.”

“I would have kept it to myself if you asked.” Batman sounded offended and I couldn’t blame him. Everyone at the table was quite the source of untold secrets.

“I know. Even if it was Superman or Wonder Woman who ask, you would take it to the grave.”

“Then why?” I interjected. “Have we proven ourselves unworthy in some other way?”

Lady Noire looked at Batman a little sadly. “No, it is not that your unworthy. By the time I knew I could trust you, I was scared it would change our dynamic. When it changed anyways, I was about to tell you but the incident with Catwoman happened.”

Batman fist clinched and his face looked like he was punched in the gut, hell, even I felt it. Choosing Catwoman had cost him a lot more than Marinette.

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I was hurting and so—so angry that I refused to let you explain. I made sure you were never given the opportunity to either. And I know better. I’ve learned time and time again that not everything is as it appears, especially when secret identities are involved. I should have been open to both sides of the story. Fortunately, Tim helped reminded me of that.”

Batman swallowed thickly before removing his cowl, the use of Robin’s name removing any lingering doubt that she knew his identity.

“How did Tim manage this…especially after I told him not to get involved?” Bruce gave Robin a look that cause him to shrink in his chair.

Lady Noire in turn placed her hand on Tim’s in support. “He took a risk with the best of intensions, that fortunately was worth it. So much was explained by just knowing that woman was blackmailing you.”

I wanted to smack myself in the head with the palm of my hand. It made so much sense. Bruce had said Catwoman knew his identity, but I never allowed him to say why or how. I just assumed it was because of a certain level of intimacy. I was too focused on the injured parties to realize Bruce was injured as well.

“You didn’t cheat on Marinette?”

Bruce shook his head vigorously before standing and pushing away frustratedly from the table. “Never! I will never forgive myself for letting Catwoman get away with touching me in a way that had Marinette believe there could ever be a woman other than her. But every time I pushed Selina away she threatened to expose us. I had no recourse—I still don’t. What can I tell Marinette? That Selina figured out I’m Batman?”

“Would have been a start,” I muttered, earning Bruce’s ire. “What? It’s true. All of this, Marinette, and Jason, could have been mostly avoided if you’d just told her the truth when we told you to. Maybe not the blackmailing—admittedly that will be harder to fix—but we all could have tried to find a solution as a family.”

“Catwoman’s been dealt with.” Bruce and I looked at Lady Noire in question or was it shock; I didn’t want to assume, but that was how she’d dealt with the Joker.

“Seriously?!” Lady Noire looked scandalized. “No! Robin and I spent the last month tracking her down and I used my magic to erase her memories of Bruce Wayne being Batman.”

“You can do that!?”

“That’s what I said.” Tim smiled at me, which I returned. He looked a little surprised at my positive reaction but seemed to relax when he noticed my smile didn’t wane.

“It would be more accurate to say she has zero memories pertaining to Bruce Wayne or Batman, and the people she knew because of you.”

“Does that include you?” Not looking up from her lap to confirm, Bruce closed his eyes and smiled bittersweetly. “Guess it all really could have been avoided if I shared my identity when the boys told me to. I’m sorry, Marinette.”

At the mention of her name a green light surrounded Lady Noire revealing the very woman and a cat like creature. “Identities are important to keep, but sometimes keeping it from allies can do more harm. This isn’t the first time I’ve learned this lesson; probably won’t be the last.”

There were a lot of different emotions that came to the surface with the reveal, but I quickly put a cap on them as I took in the empty seat beside me. With everything that we just learned, it felt like the saying bad news comes in threes, and I just knew. Might as well rip off the band-aid when the wound was going to bleed either way.

“Red Hood...might as well join us.”

Tim and Bruce looked a little shocked at my proclamation, and as soon as I looked in the direction of Jason’s favorite hiding spot a figure stepped out of the shadows.

Red Hood, the crime lord, had become a legend of sorts in Gotham over the past few months. Working against the status quo, he upset the establishment causing men who used to walk around town with their heads held high to have to hide in the shadows. Unfortunately like the predators they were when backed into a corner they lashed out bringing war to the streets of Gotham, forcing the attention of Batman.

How he’d kept himself one step ahead of us now made perfect sense. We’d assumed it was because he was seasoned, an underling of one of the big names who’d gotten tired of the old leadership. Seeing him only from a distance, he was able to easily maintain the illusion, now without the helmet, it was all too obvious he was just a kid. A tall and bulky teenager with a bat sized chip on his shoulder.

Bruce aggressively stood from his chair, knocking it noisily to the ground. Jason paused but didn’t retreat. Marinette narrowed her eyes at Bruce, freezing his anger to the spot and preventing him from moving or saying anything for the time being. She rose from her chair and went over to Jason, using her hand to guide him over to her seat at the table.

When we were all sitting once more, Marinette now next to Bruce, there was a strange sense of right and peace that settled over the cave. Of course, I knew it would only last as long as there was silence.

“We already know there are a lot of grievances that need to be addressed, but right now is not the time. Not until we all have the facts to prevent any more misunderstandings.” Marinette looked right at Bruce and then Jason, both narrowed their eyes at the other, but stayed quiet.

“So, as you can see Jason is Red Hood.” Marinette said it so casually, it was obvious she’d had time to come to terms with the knowledge.

The truce of silence broke immediately as Bruce growled, “do you hate me so much; you chose to become my enemy?”

“It’s not all about you, Bruce. After almost, no sorry dying, at the hands of Joker, I realized your method was ineffective. Men like Joker, Maroni, and Scarecrow should not be on the streets, but they are. Worse yet, they don’t fear committing crimes anymore. Even when Batman is staring at them as police escort them to jail, they have smiles on their face knowing they will be back on the streets doing worse than before in no time.”

“He’s not wrong, it’s like ground hog’s day. We stop operations all the time, it saves lives, but it’s not even a week later before there is another one we have to stop, often the same guys.” Jason sat back in his chair looking a little smug at the fact I was supporting him, so I turned to look right at him. “But, if we don’t, innocent people die and get hurt, Little Wing.”

“I know, but simply apprehending them isn’t working. They used to fear Batman, but that was before they realized that jail didn’t end their power. In fact, it often strengthens it by putting them in a building with other criminals and nothing but time to kill. It created these strong networks that Batman and the police have to work harder against. To really help Gotham the criminals had to truly fear something again.”

“So, they fear Red Hood because he’ll kill them for their territory? How does that make you any different from any other criminal or crime lord?” Mari’s hand instantly reached out for Bruce’s, his body relaxed some, but his eyes were searching hers for answers to his unasked questions. “Marinette, I can’t support this. He’s a child and now a criminal. If he weren’t mine, he’d be in juvie before his next breath.”

“Just like Catwoman?” Jason growled. I put my own hand on his shoulder to keep him from lunging across the table.

Marinette spoke before Bruce and Jason could really get into it. “His solution isn’t perfect, but there are some merits to his thoughts if you would just listen.”

She motioned for Jason to continue, he glared at Bruce before starting again. “Let me make it clear, I have never personally killed anyone. My orders have resulted in the death of people who may not deserve it and I’m coming to terms with that, but I also have no qualms with men who just want to see the world burn around them meeting the end of my barrel. You are never going to convince me otherwise.”

“It’s not the death count Jason that is hard to grasp—okay it is—but it’s that your supply drugs and weapons despite your history.”

“The guns are only ever used by my men to protect my territory; they are never sold. As for the drugs…I personally can’t stop addiction, but I can try to stop people from becoming addicts in my territory by monitoring who it’s sold to and ensuring it is never sold to kids.”

“You’re showing just how young you really are if you believe that works.” Bruce grumbled, some of the aggression from earlier missing.

“Getting rid of Gotham suppliers will never happen either because as long as there is a demand someone will supply. The drug trade is one of the largest markets in Gotham and by taking territory I’ve been able to help control the other crimes happening. My men know there is good pay for protecting the people, no trafficking, no raping, no bullying businesses for more than their monthly fees, or there will be consequences.”

“So, what? You guys are the best of the worse? Is it really better when you’ve started an all-out war in Gotham?”

“If it doesn’t matter what we do, isn’t it better the crime boss be someone you know? The next one could bring in harder drugs, another trafficking ring, or be another deranged clown. Honestly, I was hoping you would focus your pursuit on the others, and I would take their territory while they were incarcerated, stripping them of their power and ability to return.”

Leaning back casually in his chair, Jason looked like he wasn’t talking about being a criminal. “I haven’t taken an official survey, but I bet there has been an increase in crime lord approval rating in my territory since I took it.”

I rolled my eyes, “you’re still a fifteen-year-old selling drugs, participating in racketeering and extorting money from poor business owners.”

“Everyone in this room is guilty of committing crimes in the name of trying to make Gotham a better place.”

“I think we can all admit that Jason isn’t completely wrong with his way of thinking. We are fighting against a tide; but that doesn’t mean his method is correct.” Marinette looked at everyone, waiting for her assessment to be questioned. “Everyone in this room is smart, there has to be a solution we’re not seeing.”

Shyly Tim raised his hand.

“No need to raise your hand,” I joked as I slapped him playfully across the shoulder. “You have just as much of a right to speak as anyone else here.”

“Thanks.” Sitting straighter he cleared his throat. “Maybe Red Hood can be sanctioned by Batman. Instead of using the drug money to fun his men he can use the profits from his legit businesses and Batman can supplement as needed. It could stop the necessity of a drug trade in his area, making a section of Gotham drug free with his men ensuring it.”

There was a bit of hostility in Jason’s voice, “that sounds nice, until one of the other bosses offers more money with the profits from their drug trade.”

Seeing where Tim’s mind had been working, I decided to try and help him out. “That is where Batman’s efforts come into play. Continuing as he has been, he can work to put them in jail, disrupting shipments to disrupt profits. That would prevent them from offering more money and Red Hood the opportunity to expand his territory without bloodshed, taking over their legit businesses to help expand the drug free territory in Gotham and give him more money to make it happen.”

Narrowing his eyes at the table Bruce considered his options., finally settling on, “no selling drugs and no killing.”

“No selling drugs and no sanctioned killings.”

“Jason—”

“Look B, Mari has already lectured me about the unexpected toll killing will have on my soul. But I’m not going to tell my men that if they’re in a life-or-death situation they can’t defend themselves. Not everyone buys into your self-sacrificing bullshit, nor can I outfit everyone in kevlar.”

“Fine, but this is a trial run, you will need to report to me or Marinette every day.” Jason was about to protest but Bruce stopped him. “Look Jason, I know we need to work on fixing us, but you’re still a teenager and my son…who's gotten away with a little too much. Marinette and I need to make sure you’re doing okay, and the only way to do that is by you being honest and open with us…and yes, I know I need to make sure it goes both ways.”

Bruce noticed Marinette smiling brightly beside him, he looked at her in a way that relayed a clear message of hoping the same could be for said for them.

“Okay,” Jason said before Mari could say or do anything to respond to Bruce, I wanted to groan out in frustration of yet another moment ruined.

Just like old times.

“There is a lot to be worked out, for better or worse, but I think making some cookies is in order. There is no better way to mend bridges than coffee and cookies.”

“Milk and cookies, Miss Marinette.” Alfred appeared from the shadows with the black cat like creature munching on some gooey cheese on his shoulder.

“Yes, same thing. Milk for everyone but those of us who need the caffeine.”  

“That is not how it works.”

“Of course it is, right Tim?” Biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing Tim nodded his head. “See? He’s a genius so of course he knows what he’s talking about. Let’s go.”

Marinette sprung up from her chair and dashed out of the cave before Alfred could argue further. Leaving those of us left at the table smiling at each other for the first time, in a long time.

Chapter Text

In my life I had never questioned my mother’s decisions. Primarily because doing so would end in a punishment I had no desire to receive, and secondly there were few times I ever had cause. But now I questioned if my grandfather’s death had impacted her to the point her decision-making skills were jeopardized. For there was no way she could justify leaving me in the care of my father.

Mother had left me at the doorstep, metaphorically speaking, of a man who clearly had no love for her, and due to association the dislike was automatically applied to me. I could be forgiving seeing as he had just learned of my existence and his love in fact meant nothing to me, but he acted as if I was too much of an inconvenience, which of course was unacceptable as I was anything but.

After entering his home and introduced to his civilian persona, I was led to a room and told to remain within in. For an entire day I was left alone with only the occasional company of his butler, Alfred Pennyworth, who brought two meals and limited updates.

When it became clear my father would not be returning during a decent hour, my desire to remain in the confines of the room waned. My wandering through the manor led to me returning to the cave which housed a computer capable of helping me find those responsible for my grandfather’s death. The intension of course being to avenge him and return to my rightful place as soon as possible, despite my mother’s clear objection to becoming involved. If she expected anything less, she should not have sent me to the house of the ‘World’s Greatest Detective.’

Never did I imagine how quickly one of Slade Wilson’s known associates would be discovered, much less in Gotham. Whether it was dumb luck Ubu happened to be in the same city or my mother’s failure to realize the danger that followed, mattered little, I would not allow such an opportunity to slip past me.

A block away from my destination I ditched the bike I borrowed from Robin behind some unassuming cardboard. I was unsure if the populous of Gotham left things that belonged to Batman alone, but I’d rather not find out. Not because I feared the anger of my father should the bike end up stolen, but because I knew the bike would assist me when Ubu relayed the location of my next target.

It took thirty minutes for Ubu to finally leave the establishment, from there I stalked from above as he moved through the somewhat crowded streets to a quieter area. When we were alone, I wasted no time attacking, my foot instantly coming in contact with the back of his knee.

“Who sent the child?” he chuckled through his nose, trying to hide the grimace of pain as he stood.

“Tell me where Slade Wilson is, and I will kill you quickly.”

“Yea right kid.” He turned around ready to leave me as if I were no threat.

Big mistake.

Closing the distance, he’d created I used an under leg sweep to take him to the ground once again. Standing with my hands across my chest, I gave him the opportunity to right himself to make the fight a little fairer now that he knew I was not merely a ‘kid.’

“You’re going to regret that, kid,” or maybe not.

He lunged out quickly trying to attack me as if I would be surprised. Needless to say, I was not, and he quickly learned of my proficiency with fighting. He used knives that extended like claws against my katana, making it a decent fight, but despite his sheer size advantage, my skills were well above his own.  

“Where is Slade Wilson,” I asked while my boot made an impression on his neck.

“I. Don’t. Know,” he wheezed through his constricted airway.

My foot pressed down harder, “I don’t believe you.”

“Ok-ay, okay…I’ll tell you.”

I relaxed my hold to allow him to speak unobstructed, unfortunately it was a ruse, and he managed to throw my weight off. Not waiting for me to recover, he ran off into the busy road to evade me. I was quick to follow.

One wrong turn and I was able to crash into him from above, knocking the air out of his lungs and injuring an arm as he landed wrongly upon it. Sparks flew as our blades met but his weakened armed worked against him allowing me the perfect opportunity to strike him in the head, breaking his nose.

“You won’t get information from me.”

Raising my blade above my head, I was ready to lower it in a style similar to the executioners of old. “You will or you will die painfully by my blade.”

Smirking with his continued obstinance, “do your worst.”

Just as I began to lower my sword to do as he requested, my efforts were thwarted by a swift kick to my ribs.

Turning my head from my new position on the ground I noticed an idiot dressed in black and blue. From the obscenely large bat like emblem flayed across his chest, this particular idiot was obviously Nightwing. I was spared an earlier introduction to the rest of the family due to their previous engagements, admittedly making this a very unfortunate first impression…for him.

Mattered not, I was unwilling to allow someone obviously inferior to stop me from getting the information from Ubu or at least killing him. Changing targets, I attacked with restrained mercy knowing that I would need to be quick to follow Ubu’s trail before he disappeared, but not cause lasting harm so as to not anger my father.

Unfortunately, Nightwing was a more formidable opponent than my previous and despite doing a number to his suit, I was the one strung from the lamp post by the end.

“Can you be quiet?” Nightwing dragged his hand through his hair in frustration as I continued to growl at him.

“I will not. Not until you cut me down and allow me to continue my pursuit.”

“No can-do, you’re an unknown who I just stopped from killing a man.”

“Call Batman, he will vouch for me.”

Nightwing chuckled through his nose and crossed his arms before cocking his hip to reflect his disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

“Because I am his son.”

Even in the dark, I could tell that all of the blood had drained from Nightwing’s face, his body stiffened. It was gratifying to knock him off kilter while being dangled from the light post.

His hand reached out and my efforts to prevent him from grabbing my face were futile as he tilted it up to the light.

Releasing me, his jaw tightened, “shit.”

In truth, I wasn’t sure what to make of the reaction. The anger from my father was to be expected. Afterall, not only was my existence of ten years sprung upon him, but my mother was forcing him to take custody of someone for an unforeseen amount of time. There was no expectation for him to welcome me with open arms, just because he had done so to three other boys before me with no blood relation.

Absolutely no expectation…not even a little.

That lack of expectation extended to my non-blood brothers accepting me like they had with each other. I was a threat to them, the only true heir to both the Wayne Empire and Batman’s legacy. They would be imbeciles to see me as anything other than.

“Robin?” Nightwing paused waiting for a response I wouldn’t hear. “I need you to find LB and divert her from fifth and main for a little while and send B to my location.”

Clearly not liking what was being said on the other side, Nightwing growled. “Get Red Hood to help you cover more ground then. Batman might have messed up again and I need to get all the information before LB hears about it.” Pausing for the quick retort from Robin, “does it matter? This time I want to know what information has been withheld so maybe we can prevent similar results.”

Nightwing looked at me and narrowed his eyes, his dislike for me evident upon his face, posture, and the way he was all but hissing at me without making the actual noise. “I’ll leave it at biological child. Just distract LB, so I can talk to B and figure out just how much trouble he’ll be in this time.”

The one-sided discussion over, Nightwing began to pace and looked out into the alley waiting for my father. Unfortunately, it was not the Dark Knight that happened upon us from the opposite direction.

A direct hit to the head and Nightwing crumbled to the ground with no less than a concussion. A sinister smile caused me to struggle against my restraints with renewed urgency. Despite the negative change in circumstances my predicament with the light post did not change, putting me at the mercy—I knew to not exist—of my enemy.

Ubu looked down at his uninjured hand and chuckled before lifting it quickly to complete the fatal strike. It was déjà vu to witness his attempt sabotaged, as mine had been, by a wire that wrapped around his wrist and pulled his body away from me.

Before I had time to truly process what had happened, Ubu was tied to his own light post and a figure dressed in red with black spots stepped out from the shadows to check on Nightwing. Behind her, Ubu proceeded to release several colorful words, when he took aim at her sex she rolled her eyes before spinning quickly and connecting her foot with his face, knocking him out, and rendering him useless.

“One day everyone will know and understand that no one should be thought of as inferior based on their sex. Wouldn’t you agree, considering you are the son of Talia?”

Not wanting to confirm, I remained quiet to her question.

“Some time ago I had the unfortunate honor of running into your mother and grandfather, in truth it is a time I prefer to not think on. While you are a spitting image of what I imagine your father would have appeared at your age, your eyes are a very uniquely beautiful shade of green, like your mother’s.” She smiled warmly, making me uncomfortable. I did not know this woman and yet she seemed to know all about me.

“Tt, do not presume to know anything, such as my lineage.”

“If you were the son of the man I think you are, I was considering helping you from your current predicament.” She waved her hand in my direction as I swung ever so slightly in the Gotham breeze—caused by underground vents and not the wind. “But you are right. I should not assume; it could have been extremely dangerous to believe you a friend when you could just as easily be a foe.”

“It would be unwise to assume anyone not a foe, even those you consider friend. My grandfather died having not learned that very important lesson. Not to mention one should not assume friendship when they are not even aware of the other’s name.”

A vain in her neck pulsed at the mention of Ra’s, indicating she did know of him. “You are absolutely right, how rude of me not to introduce myself.”

Hesitating slightly, she paused to assess me, I wished her luck in joining the que of those who were disappointed.

“My name is Ladybug.”

The LB my father’s adopted sons had been referring to, how ironic to be saved by her. Mother had definitely not informed me that a miraculous holder was working with Batman. Not just any miraculous holder either, the miraculous holder. The one my grandfather and mother feared without reservation of others knowing. What little I knew was enough to know the powers she was in possession of made her potentially the most dangerous human in the world.

“Guardian.” She smiled and I felt on somewhat equal grounding, at least in understanding who the other was. “My name is Damian Al Ghul. If you would unbind me, I can continue with a more pressing matter.”

Chuckling, Ladybug stepped out of my view before I felt my restraints give and myself falling. She caught me in her arms before I was able to adjust and land unassisted.

“Hmm, the pressing matter of revenge?” There was a desire to lash at her for holding me like a small child, but when she placed me onto my feet and crouched so she was not standing over me, my anger receded, slightly. “Revenge by killing is never really fulfilling, young assassin.”

“I am a trained bringer of death, and it is the quickest and most effective way to achieve revenge.”

“Revenge is a very complex beast. It—”

Dismissing her comment with a wave of my hand, I rolled my eyes before delivering the expected response. “—is stupid to seek and those who tend to search for it waste their lives on a fruitless endeavor.”

“Au contraire, I believe in revenge. Just not what most people label revenge as. When most people think of revenge they think of it as vindictive, negative in nature, an eye for an eye. But I think of revenge as a person ensuring justice for those they are wronged by. I have no issue with people seeking it.”

Raising my eyebrows, I hoped to convey my curiosity into her meaning, but any further conversation was ended by the sound of the batmobile’s engine reverberating in a nearby alley. My postured tensed knowing a lecture from my father was about to make worse an already perfectly ruined evening.

“Care to have some fun?”

I couldn’t help but stare at her as if she were crazy. It was not the question nor response I had been anticipating. “Fun is something juveniles do to fill time because their minds can’t handle something of more substance or importance.”

Even through her mask, I could tell that her eyes had blown wide open and were strangely blinking from my response. “Is that the textbook definition? Or is it the definition from someone who's never had fun? If the latter, it must be rectified as soon as possible.”

“I am quite content to not have any fun and feel my time would be better spent interrogating him”—my thumb pointed back in the direction of the still passed out Ubu— “before Batman prevents me from doing it properly.”

“Leave him to Batman. He will get the information you desire if Ubu has it.”

“How can you be sure? Batman has no stake in my revenge. He is more likely to simply escort him into what the city calls a prison than to get the information I need.”

“Easy! You are his son, and you wish to have it.”

“Tt, you clearly do not know him as well as you think. He has known I am his son for only twenty-four hours and his dislike for me is evident.”

The headlights of the Batmobile finally turned the corner, but I did not get the opportunity to see the car itself, nor address the fact she was aware of my father’s other identity, as I was suddenly airborne. We landed swiftly and surprisingly gracefully on the roof above. From our vantage point we witness Batman exit his car and race over to rouse Nightwing.

Batman’s efforts were paid off quickly and he turned his attention to rouse Ubu who required smelling salts to accomplish the same. I couldn’t tell what was being said below, but it was clear Batman’s threats were being met with the same hostility my own inquiries had received. One final statement and ball of spit directed in the Dark Knights direction had Batman using a right hook to knock the man back out.

Batman looked up at the rooftops scanning them for a sign of something—likely me. At that point Nightwing had gotten back on his feet and was talking to Batman as he continued to look up. Pausing briefly in our direction, I thought for sure mine and Ladybug’s position had been compromised, but he shook his head at Nightwing’s statement before looking back down at Ubu.

Nightwing placed his hand to his ear to speak into his communicator, beside me a noise similar to a radio came from Ladybug’s weapon. “New target likely returning to the nest according to B. If you happen upon a child in an all-black ninja outfit, intercept and ensure he gets back safely. Any sighting of LB?”

Two voiced echoed a negative.

“B is still on the second channel; I haven’t been able to get anything out of him. He’s too concerned about his son being out alone in Gotham.”

“How small of a kid are we looking for?” The younger of the two voices—likely Robin—inquired.

“Seven, maybe eight.”

Offended at his obvious attempt at mocking me, I scoffed at the insinuation. Until I realized that he would have to fess up to the fact that this ‘seven-year-old’ had been the one to cause his impressive list of non-lethal injuries.

“Anything else we should know about?”

“The only thing I could get from B was his mother is Talia Al Ghul.”

“A demon spawn then?” The implications would likely have hurt others, but my grandfather had been the Head of the Demon and a force to be reckoned with. So, I took it more as the observation it was and not the insult it was meant to be. “What the hell was B thinking procreating with that she demon?”

“We all know that B had a reputation, luckily for the most part it was all rumors, otherwise we’d have to be a little more worried about more kids coming out of the woodworks. I imagine however, in the beginning he perpetuated the rumors somehow and Talia seems like the type to take advantage.”

“Dude, too much information.”

“You asked!”

“No one asked you, Replacement.”

There ‘civil’ discussion continued as Nightwing made his way over to his two adoptive brothers and Ladybug made us follow closely behind. I wasn’t sure what her plan was, but I would admit I was intrigued. At the end of the day, I was gaining intel into the mindsets of the boys that my father had adopted to be a part of his legacy. This information would be extremely useful in proving myself to be the best and only candidate to take it.

“So…the plan is to keep LB away from the kid?” Robin asked.

“Yes, but our number one priority is ensuring he makes it home safely.” Nightwing confirmed.

“Why? Sounds like the kid is a nuisance, could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.” The idiot in the hideous helmet commented.

“Do you want to deal with the wrath of Ladybug and Marinette if that happens.”

“No… but shouldn’t B clean up his own messes? You’d think he’d have learned about keeping secrets. Having a biological son is kind of a big one.”

“True. But we should have learned not to jump to conclusions without all of the information, Little Wing. This is the League of Assassins; with the way they operate I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t aware of the kid.”

“Fine, but if this goes south—which it will—I will be the one rubbing it all up in your face. Because if we’re going off of how the League operates than I guess we should be following a trail of death to find him.”

I bristled slightly at his ignorant words. I did not impassively kill, every death that came from the end of my katana had a purpose, a reason. Ubu for example should have died for his participation in the insurrection. Have others died for less? Absolutely. But when one tries to interfere in League business killing them simply becomes a means to an end. Still, it is an exaggeration to suggest that we ever leave a trail of death behind ourselves, we are too well trained to ever be so careless, inefficient, or ineffective.

“I will not be judged by those with no frame of reference. That is a completely inaccurate depiction of who I am or what I’ve done.”

“Fair.”

“Excuse me?” There was no helping the fact I couldn’t hide my shock at her words. I thought for sure she shared their opinion.

“You’re right. It is not fair to judge you without knowing all the facts. A lesson I was reminded of not too recently as well. I’ve interacted with the League and can make a few assumptions about what you might have done, but I don’t know for certain what or even why. I will withhold any judgement until you’ve told me your side of the story.”

“I’m not sure it would change the opinion you’ve already formed, it did nothing of my fathers.” The words sat bitterly on my tongue.

The conversation between my father’s adopted sons faded into the background and Ladybug turned to me. “Your father is a detective at heart Damian. The way they operate is often having to make moves without all the information and make assumptions based on what they do have. Otherwise, they would likely be sitting on their heels waiting for all of the pieces to collect in front of them. Your father’s assumptions about you last night were based off the largest source of information he had.”

“Which is?”

“Your mother.”

A scowled at her words, she contradicted her last statement by judging my mother without the facts. I knew she wasn’t the best example of what a mother was, but she had her good moments and was the only mother I knew.

“I’m not saying she was a bad mother, or that he is insinuating she is. But he knows who she is in the League and how the League operates. We can only make assumptions based on that, what you were forced—"I narrowed my eyes—“required to do.”

“I am better than any child my age because of it.”

“I can tell that you are very intelligent Damian, a master of martial arts, and I can’t even imagine what else I’m going to learn you excel at. But I can already tell that there is one thing you fail at.”

I felt my voice catch in my throat; I appreciated the obvious praise from her about my skills but loathed being told I did not meet expectations in something.

“I find it very concerning that you are ten-years-old, and your brothers are desperately trying to keep us apart and yet you have not once suggested that we mess with them, knowing they have already failed.”

“As a hero I cannot believe that you would suggest doing such a thing.”

“A long time ago I would have agreed with you. That was before I learned that if you hold the world on your shoulders, you will eventually crumble beneath the weight. As a hero or a vigilante—as I’m sure your intention will be to become—you need to have fun when the opportunities for it is present, or you will burn out.”

“I am not sure that our definitions of fun will align.”

“Perhaps not, but there is only one way to find out. The boys want to keep us from meeting, right?” I nodded my head in agreement. “Let’s make them work for it.”

I swallowed thickly, afraid of the torture I was about to endure in the name of fun.

Chapter Text

The array of expressions in the room would have been comical if I ever found anything to funny. Seeing as I don’t, instead I found it rather irritating.

Grayson was smiling, trying to appear happy or at least unaffected. He failed spectacularly as the smile failed to reach his eyes and his hand seemed to be experiencing a slight tick. Todd looked at me as if he only needed the smallest excuse to commit murder. At the very least I could appreciate his honesty and in truth would like to see him try. Drake was mostly expressionless as he looked ready to drop from exhaustion at any moment. I imagine if he hadn’t spent all evening researching me, he would have looked nervous.

The only one who looked collected was my father, but I could note how his eyes kept flicker over to me as if I would do something unexpected if he took his eyes off me for too long.  

All of it because of a woman, who I learned my father was attempting ‘to win back’ after a misunderstanding. Apparently because of my behavior the previous evening, they feared my first impression and how it might impact my father’s chances for reconciliation.

In truth, they had nothing to fear. According to the other woman they wished to keep me from, tried and failed, I was ‘a hoot.’

Before this morning I had no concept of the phrase, but according to Pennyworth it meant ‘a good time.’

Take that Todd.

And if my presence was enough to potentially prevent their reunion, then this woman, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, was not worthy of my father’s or more importantly my time.

If we were to talk of worthy woman, the one on top of my list would be Ladybug and from what I could tell by the way they spoke of her, there was an equal level of affection as to Dupain-Cheng, perhaps more. If forced to choose another presence to come into the manor in the name of companionship for my father, there was no better option. As Guardian of the Miraculous her name alone garnered a fair amount of respect but having spent time with her I can say it was well earned.

For over two hours I immensely enjoyed annoying my adopted brothers in a game Ladybug fondly coined, ‘Keep Away.’ The objective to orbit each other in a way that kept the three busy trying to intercept one or both of us in order to keep us apart. To accomplish this, we had to evade capture while ensuring we kept a close enough distance to one another where they believed our meeting each other would become an inevitability. If this game was an example of fun, I could get onboard with the concept.

The fun ended when Ladybug could no longer pretend to not have noticed them when Red Hood jumped out in front of her. Still, they remained unaware of partaking in our little game, for all they know I was lost in my return to the manor. For now, my intention was to keep my acquaintance with the spotted hero to myself.

The sound of a sharp laugh drew my attention from my inner musings on the previous evening’s entertainment to two voices coming from the hall. One voice was grading, with a forced lightness and overdone accent, belonging to woman of the hour. The other stoic and controlled, Pennyworth likely leading the way to the theater where we waited.

A tradition of watching a movie one night a week had been reinstated now that strained relations were on the mend and a new arrival was not enough to break the fragile harmony. Unfortunately, I was being forced to partake, instead of allowed to remain in my room isolated and content.

Rising to my feet I made ready to ‘greet’ the visitor, as good manners would require, unlike the rest of the heathens who remained seated—if one could call Todd’s position anything of the sort.

My father was the first to greet Dupain-Cheng with la bise, though from his body language one could surmise he wished to do more. In response her cheeks tinged red from embarrassment, causing me to roll my eyes at the immaturity. Both my father and Dupain-Cheng were adults, there was no doubt from the beauty that this woman possessed—objectively speaking—she was not the virginal innocent she tried to project. Meaning it was an act and she was nothing less than a harlot trying to capture my father’s attention by presenting herself as otherwise.

As soon as her eyes left my father’s they were immediately upon me, and her smile brightened to a sickening level. This woman was faker than fools’ gold and yet I appeared to be the only one in the room that was aware of her obvious duplicity. Once more leading me to question my mother’s sanity when she abandoned me with such imbeciles.

“You must be Damian.”

She made no attempt to move closer which I appreciated. She seemed like a hugger, likely believing the act to endear others to her. I tried my hardest to maintain a look of indifference, as sneering like I wished to do would likely not bode well. I nodded my head to acknowledge her presence, as well to reflect my position as a member of the house while hers remained firmly labeled as guest.

Noticing she was not going to receive any additional welcome—she was surprisingly smart—she drew everyone’s attention toward the big screen. “I figured a movie wouldn’t allow us to really get to know each other so I brought a game instead.”

I wanted to growl in frustration but refrained for appearances sake., for how long I would have this control over my actions was debatable. Clearly video games were an activity reserved for children that had a normal childhood. My inability to perform would give her as well as my ‘brothers’ ammunition for future humiliation. Yet refusing to partake would result in the same.

“Did you bring Max’s?” Drake looked more awake as if the news of video games was a jolt of caffeine.

“I didn’t think it would be fair to Damian to bring a game you were beta for. So, I brought one of his older games.”

With those words Dupain-Cheng threw herself onto the couch beside me, causing my body to awkwardly shift towards her as the cushion compressed. Her idea of showing remorse was a sheepish smile in my direction, showing how much of her personality was a caricature of ‘adorableness.’

Gag.

My attention was drawn away from the interloper by a hand holding a black controller. Looking up I noticed Grayson looking down with what could be described as kindness and not the mocking I was expecting. Taking the controller, I looked at it as if it were a complex bomb I needed to diffuse quickly.

Noticing my discomforted, Dupain-Cheng whispered instructions succinctly into my ear. My posture remained rigid, and a scowl remained on my face, but I listened intently to ensure when the game started my lack of skills would not be immediately evident. Fortunately, her tips were effective and the moment the game began I did not die, even as it was obvious that Grayson was better versed in such game play. In fact, much to Grayson’s chagrin, despite the annoyance, the tips Dupain-Cheng tried to subtly whisper in my ear were working.

While I lost the first round, I dominated in the final two. As victor, I preened in front of those in the room, proud of the victory that came with no experience. As the winner however, I was forced to defend my new title, taking on Todd and his negative attitude.

Whereas Grayson whined as if my hits were physical, Todd chose from his limited vocabulary of crass words, to emphasize his lack of performance. Upon the utter defeat of his character the controller was thrown from his hand to a pillow on the floor that seemed placed as if such behavior was common.

There was no smile on my face, only the expression of one who was clearly superior. Its resemblance to a grin completely coincidental.

Of the three adopted son’s Drake proved to be the most formidable, his beta testing of Max’s game clearly giving him an advantage over the others. With Dupain-Cheng continuing to mutter hints into my ear, I was able to starve him off from an overly embarrassing victory in the first round, barely defeated him in the second, and with what I suspect to be a well-timed outburst by Dupain-Cheng, clinched victory from the jaw of defeat in the third.  

The act may have caused me to gain a degree of respect towards the woman had it not been her who I had to defend the title against next. With the controller now in her hands, she repositioned herself onto the couch in a way that made it look like she needed to be ready to spring into action as if my character could suddenly walk out of the TV and attack her in real life.

The position had me uneasy and for reasons I could not fathom at the moment, I mimicked the pose with more control and less excitement. Victory needed to be achieved, otherwise my brothers would claim my wins over them to be nothing more than whispers in my ear.

The first round I took victory from her grasp at the last second with a combo I watched her perform earlier in the match. The smirk gracing her face was of pride, but as each member of the family seemed to congratulate me while poking at her defeat, the edge of the smirk waned.

“Very impressive, Damian,” was all the needed to be said by my father for Dupain-Cheng’s good-humored smile to completely drop and determination to spark in her eyes as she refocused on the screen.

As soon as the next round started it was obvious that Dupain-Cheng meant business with her tongue barely sticking out of her mouth. Her attacks were relentless, and I was barely able to defend against them. Her fingers danced across the buttons at such a speed I wasn’t sure how they weren’t cramping. My own threatened to be of no further use as I attempted to mimic her speed.

For a second I thought victory was ensured, but a well-timed combo of hers had my health depleted before I could process the move. The silence of the room was filled by a yell of victory including a fist pump.

The humble being then proceeded to perform an awkward arm dance with lyrics that did not match the movements. “That’s how you do it Marinette style.”

From their reactions it appeared this behavior was common for Dupain-Cheng, though from the way Father reacted he had never witnessed it himself. It must have seemed as if she’d grown two horns atop her head the way he was viewing her. I expected her to appear meek having caught his gaze, but she merely shrugged her shoulder before returning her undivided attention for a third time to the screen.

The final round started before I was prepared, but I did not let it affect me as I began to attack her as relentlessly as she had attacked me the previous round. Her experience carried her and as my heath bar depleted quicker than the other rounds it became apparent she was no longer wished to hold back. Unbeknownst to her I had memorized the killing combo she used the previous round. Patiently, taking hits and delivering some of my own, I waited for the perfect opportunity to apply the new skill. When it happened, I pressed the buttons as if my life depended upon it, which for my character it did.

A gasp from behind could be heard as my character began the skill. I smiled as the title of champion was in my grasp, only to catch a smirk upon Dupain-Cheng’s face and an even more complicated combination of button pressing from her fingers.

The result…my character landing on its back unmoving.

“You cheated,” I accused, standing so I could tower over her in an attempt to intimidate her into a confession.

“No, the combo I used was legal.”

“You clearly had this Max program combos based on your fighting style. Having watched the game for eleven rounds it is the only explanation to how you were able to counter my attack.”

Breathing heavily as anger filled my veins at her mockery of a fair fight. Dupain-Cheng looked at me sheepishly, my father glared, and Todd looked almost murderous, but I refused to back down.

Meekly, “Max did use me to help develop the game, it would make sense for my fighting style to heavily influence the ability of the characters.”

“So, you cheated. You had an unfair advantage that you used to claim victory.”

“Come on Demon Spawn, you need to get over yourself. She’s played this game before, of course she would have an advantage, it would be impossible not to. You can’t win at everything, no matter how good you think you are.”

“You still did really well for a first go at it. You beat all of us, even Mari in a round. She’s almost impossible to beat, a month under her tutelage and I’m sure you’d become unstoppable.”

Grayson’s attempt to pacify me, did the opposite. There was no chance I would ever subject myself to learning willingly from this woman. She tried to appear as one thing, but she it was all a cover for whoever she really was, making her unpredictable and untrustworthy.

When I looked down at the woman before me, my father’s hand rested on her shoulder as if comforting her. Like my behavior was akin to a rabid dog, seconds from striking. It was at that moment I realized that despite the attempt in the morning to appear as if he and the rest of the ‘family’ were welcoming me, my father would never see me as anything more than my mother’s son.

My anger was quickly deflated and replaced with an unknown emotion as I watched him look down at her with a look I’d never seen in person before. The same expression seeming to be reflected in her own. While the look was foreign to me, I was smart enough to realize it likely meant a reconciliation was on the horizon, and I loathed the thought.

The woman before me was obviously a gold-digging harlot. The fact that she had my father fooled to her games was concerning. Once she achieved her goal of marrying him without a prenup—because if he really loved her, he wouldn’t ask—her true self would come to the forefront. Then she would likely be armed with not only lawyers at my father’s expense, but knowledge that would ensure he was forever in her debt. While I had no love for the man, seeing his own regard for me, I was at least a decent enough to ensure he was not a victim to the games of this woman.

But how to stop her was the question.

Due to the affection the occupants in the manor carried for Dupain-Cheng, directly stating her intentions would be met with hostility and excuses. Then I would likely be isolated and excluded from occasions where she was present, giving her more unhindered opportunities, which would be unacceptable.

Her demise would have to be more subtle than my usual tactics.

With the atmosphere in the room still slightly tense and unlikely to change, I decided to use the opportunity to excuse myself and ‘retire’ for the evening.

In other words, return to my room so I could plan the demise of one, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Before I left however, I needed to make my first move, establish my intentions, seeing as I was never one to stab an enemy in the back. No, when I attacked one always saw me coming even if it was too late to do anything about it.

“I will excuse myself for the rest of the evening. The fun of playing games has… evaporated. Grayson, Todd, Drake, I would suggest taking the rest of the evening to brush up on techniques that might make you more formidable opponents in the future.”

Looking at Dupain-Cheng before they could retort, my eyes quickly caught hers before I flicked them over to my father. Looking at him in a way to express my seriousness, I let my eyes visibly study his posture in relation to hers. “Do not forget a condom tonight, Father. You already have one child you do not want, no need to risk another.”

Without waiting to witness the reactions to my statement, I turned and made my way upstairs. On the landing Pennyworth was busy dusting the countless valuables, I knew my father had not care for. The littlest of smirks played on his face; I paid it no mind; his reaction was of little consequence.

Whether he was an ally in my scheme to rid the house of the leach mattered not. As with everything I did, I would be victorious in the end.

Chapter Text

My morning oatmeal was disrupted by the appearance of Pennyworth at the end of the table. As I was the only one in the room, common so late in the morning, he patiently waited for me to look up and acknowledge him.

“Ms. Marinette has requested your presence for an excursion.”

I admittedly looked at the older man as if he were the object of my ire and not the one who believed she could summon me with the snap of her fingers. “Why did she not come to ask herself?”

“I believe it has something to do with the fact you would find an excuse not to accompany her.” There was a glimmer of humor within his eyes, and I knew it meant he enjoyed the game Dupain-Cheng and I were playing.

It didn’t bother me; I was sure her downfall was quite entertaining to watch as an observer. Especially as it was obvious from this little power play, the woman was far more cunning than I had been willing to give her credit for.

The requirement of having me move to her meant I was more likely to acquest to her desires. Coming into the manor would mean that I could flat out refuse and be done with it. But with this stunt I could send Pennyworth away with my decision to decline, but she would send him right back insisting. The little song and dance would continue for some time until I became frustrated and did as she requested.

“Inform Dupain-Cheng I shall be out to meet her…shortly.”

Pennyworth bowed his head and left to relay my message. It might appear as if I was playing nicely, but little did the innocent harlot know, her torture had just begun. As smart as she appeared, she was foolish to believe I would ever accept her. As long as she continued to play her little games to try and find a way into my father’s bed and a ring upon her finger, she would remain enemy number one in my books.

Which of course knowing who she would supersede on that list was quite the statement.

So, I would happily spend time with her, something I doubted she accounted for. It afforded me the opportunity to learn more about the woman, find weaknesses, and ultimately destroy her.

As slowly as humanly possible, I finished my breakfast, ensuring it didn’t appear to be my plan in case Pennyworth returned to check my progress. Then, I went to my room to take the world’s longest shower, followed by painstakingly ensuring my apparel was acceptable. By the time I had made it back down the stairs and to the front door, I didn’t bother to check the clock to see the amount of time that had passed, I knew it was enough.

My eye did not start twitching when I climbed into her car to find her smiling as if she were legitimately happy to see me. A quick observation revealed some embroidery work in the back, she had clearly used the time to her advantage, hence her annoyingly unbothered state.  

When I just barely settled in the leather seat the car was off without an exchange of artificial pleasantries. Her ability to recognize my preferences was unsettling, and it would have possibly warmed me toward another, even her, if not for the fact I suddenly found myself actively fearful for my own life.

Danger came with the title of assassin, but I was never scared trusting in my training and abilities. At that moment the harsh reality I was not invulnerable filled my head as the type of car accident that could occur from her driving was fatal. Driving as if the road was quickly disappearing behind us, she maneuvered her sports car aggressively at a speed that I would not even find appropriate for professional drivers. I questioned if this were her actual purpose in inviting me, somehow she’d caught onto my scheme and was determined to get rid of me through vehicular manslaughter.  

For fourteen minutes I sat in silence in the passenger seat as I waited for the next curve to become the last. By some miracle we made it into Gotham’s city limits unscathed, only to be faced with the actual drive through the city. At that point I had surmised she was not intent on only killing me, but everyone, for it wasn’t skills that had us arriving at our destination, but luck.

When the engine shut off and my breakfast no longer threatened to reappear, I took a deep breath before turning my head sharply in the vile woman’s direction. “If you must insist on driving, at least learn how to.”

Chuckling, Dupain-Cheng pulled her purse from the back and took out her wallet. “This card right here says I know how.” A picture of her smiling face was below text showing the card to be a New Jersey driver’s license.

“Either you have managed to precure a decent fake, or you paid off the instructor to pass,” I snarled in judgement, confident of the form of payment she would have used.

“Nope,” she popped the p annoyingly, “I passed the test with rave reviews.”

“If you passed without intervention, it is no longer a mystery as to why the United States has an abysmal accident rate.”

Her tut at my comment was annoying, its artificialness grating.

Choosing to change topics, I looked out the window at the store we were parked in front of. It was a generic clothing store and I hoped she was not going to insist upon attempting to change my wardrobe. Pennyworth had acquired everything needed to create adequate outfits. In fact, a majority of the pieces he’d precured from a label known as MDC were superior to the custom pieces that had made up my closet at the League.

“What are we doing here?”

The slight flicker of her finger in the opposite direction drew my attention to an art store. I raised my eyebrow waiting for her to elaborate.

“Your father said that you haven’t brought anything with you from your mother's and asked me to help you get anything Alfred hasn’t already.”

“He has already obtained everything I require, making this venture futile.”

Pretending as if I had not interjected, she continued, “We are going to walk into that store and leave when we have everything you need for your art.”

When we arrived back at the manor, I was determined to murder whoever was responsible for feeding this woman information, after I scoped out my room, yet again, for hidden surveillance devices.

“What makes you believe I wish to acquire art supplies?”

The attempt to seem indifferent despite my questioning, must have failed spectacularly. Her hand reached out to grab mine and I flinched struggling to not break her arm for touching me without permission. She lifted my hands to where I could see my fingers and said, “an artist always leaves signs of their efforts.”

When her hand dropped mine, my eyes went from the lead streaks left on my fingers to the calluses and charcoal left on her own. If she thought the shared interest would endure her to me, she was greatly mistaken, even if her observation skills were beyond what I anticipated.

“Come on. I have Bruce’s black Amex and permission to ‘go crazy,”

The words gave me an idea and for once I was truly thankful to Dupain-Cheng.

Thankful for giving me ammunition to assist in her downfall.

The art store was not large, but it would do as the prices were not inconsequential. Dupain-Cheng grabbed a hand basket and informed me to fill it up, I ignored her and grabbed my own intent on filling both. I methodically went through every row, grabbing the most expensive versions of everything I might need or want.

The whole time, Dupain-Cheng watched and allowed it. By the time the bill was tallied, I was confident my father would have an aneurysm. I would have to find a way to ensure I was present, even if from the shadows, when he laid into her for allowing me to spend such an exorbitant sum on art supplies.

Slipping into the seat of her car I knew I was smirking, and Dupain-Cheng seemed to think it was because of how happy I was with my purchases causing her to smile back. But it was not because of the supplies—though useful—it was due to the fact she was walking straight into her own demise. The thought made me giddy, a feeling I was not very familiar with, but was becoming common in Gotham.

Perhaps the city wasn’t as bad as I had first thought.

“Where to next,” I inquired, excited to use the next adventure to continue to bury the knife into her chest with the help of her own hands.

“It’s a surprise, but I think you’re going to love it.”

Surprise was not a word that I loved, but I knew I could do nothing to stop her from trying to surprise me and admittedly ten minutes later, I was truly surprised when we arrived before a decently sized building close to the outskirts of the city. When we exited the car, the sound of dogs barking filled the air, and I looked up at her to confirm my suspicions.

“You can pick one to take home, I already cleared it with Bruce and Alfred.”

Yes, the irresponsible pet owner. I could easily become one seeing as I had no desire for a pet. Caring for another was counter to how I was raised, but I imagine it would aggravate my father and Pennyworth to have to take care of the animals in my stead. Then Dupain-Cheng would be blamed for her foolish idea.

This was all child’s play.

Walking up to the counter, a teenager around Grayson’s age was seated behind the desk. Dupain-Cheng had a brief conversation with the girl before she turned her attention to me.

“So, do you know which kind of animal you are interested in adopting?”

A python would be interesting and fun, but I doubted they carried exotic animals at a shelter. An aggressive dog would fit the bill nicely but seeing as Pennyworth was the most likely victim of my neglect, I could not in good faith consider it. The remaining choices appeared to have endless pros and cons.

“I cannot decide between a cat or a dog, I will require to observe both before I can make a decision.”

The teenager looked up at Dupain-Cheng as if I was adorable and I snarled at her ignorance.

“Okay, we’ll hit kitty town first and then make our way down dog alley.” The chipper in the girl’s voice had me rolling my eyes as she turned on her heels, heading toward one of the three doors with a picture of kittens below the small window.

Dupain-Cheng made to follow, but I placed my hand upon her arm and tried to muster as much innocence as possible to be believable, “I wish to do this alone.”

Kitty Town was almost exactly as worded, a maze of scratching towers in a design that made it look like a scratching post city. They clearly had an array of cats of all ages, sizes, and colors, and I was instantly overwhelmed with no clear direction as to how to begin my search for the perfect feline.

“Do you know if you want an older cat or a kitten?”

“Neither, I wish for the cat that has been deemed unadoptable.” The girl’s eyebrows rose to her forehead and looked like a complete idiot. It was amazing what simpletons were incapable of understanding. “I wish to love what others have deem as unlovable.”

“Okay…he hasn’t been here the longest, but he’s probably the one I would say fits your requirement. We call him Diablo.”

“What has earned him such a moniker?”

“He is the devil to anyone who risk touch him. He scratches and bites like his life depends on it.”

“He sounds perfect,” I said under my breath, my smirk clearly unsettling my guide, as she stared at me for some time.

In a cage, slightly separated from the town of scratching post, a young cat, not quite a kitten, was nestled in a ball of black and white. When the girl opened the wire door the cat first raised its head to take in the new arrival, it seemed unconcerned until she put in a leather gloved arm. Without warning and quite swiftly, its claws shot out at the intruder, hissing as if the sound alone did as much damage as his retractable blades.

He was perfect.

When she was unable to coax him out, she swiftly gave up and pulled a stool up to the cage. “Have a look I guess, just stay back so he doesn’t hurt you. We don’t need your mother suing us.”

Ignoring her statement for the time, I stood upon the stool keeping my face mostly away from the cage. I looked down at the kitten who was now backed into the corner ready to attack any further intrusions. His yellow eyes glowed in the darkness the shadows provided, not looking away from the intruders in his domain. He was what others would consider adorable if not for his temperament and I found myself intrigued. I lowered down slowly to get a closer look, his eyes locked with mine and we studied one another for a period of time.

Perhaps it was stupid of me, but at some point I felt as if we had come to a sort of understanding, and I put my hand into the cage. He did not move towards it, but he did not lash out at it either. Behind me the worker was protesting my actions, but I ignored her in favor of staying focused on the cat who I was certain was about to become my own. For what felt like an hour I kept my hand close but not touching, when I’d come to a point that I figured we would get no further and was about to retract my hand, when the cat’s head reached out and leaned into the attention.

“I’ll be damned.” Was breathed behind me and I smiled.

Perhaps two ‘devil spawns’ were destined to find each other. “I will be taking him with me but, I would still like to see the dogs.”

As we recrossed the reception area Dupain-Cheng’s eyes rose briefly from her phone as she watched me stalk over to the door with a dog pictured on it. I ignored her in favor of entering dog alley, which was also as advertised, a long narrow hallway with kennels lining it.

Ignoring the person trailing awkwardly behind me I walked to each cage to see the dog within it. Close to the end, there as an excessively large dog with at least eight puppies nursing. As I stepped up to the cage, most of the puppies looked up to take note of my arrival, before immediately latching back on their mother to feed. All except for one who walked over to the bars with its tail wagging so fast it almost had the same effect of a helicopter blade.

I crouched down and place my hand between the metal bars, allowing a slick tongue traveled across my hand in greeting.

“Are you sure your mother will be okay with this one? He’s a Great Dane, small right now cause he’s a puppy, but he’ll be bigger than his mother in no time.”

Perfect.

“That woman is not my mother. Please acquire a leash so I may bring my new dog home, as well as a carrier for my cat.”

“I’ll have to check with your guardian.”

I scowled at the woman, ensuring from my face alone that she understood my meaning without my attached words. “That woman is nothing to me. If you have a problem giving me the two animals I have requested I suggest you call my father. Bruce Wayne, perhaps you have heard of him?”

A leash in my hand, a large black puppy on the end, I strolled into the reception area towards Dupain-Cheng as the teenager went back into kitty town.

“Awe, he’s perfect,” she gushed as the Great Dane puppy licked her face. “What do you think you’ll name him?”

“Titus,” was all I offered, slightly bitter my new dog appeared to like her, though for a puppy I supposed it couldn’t be helped. At least my cat would hate her.

“What a dignified name for a dignified pup,” she babied as she scratched behind Titus’ ears.

The kitty town doors swung open and a ball of black and white dashed out of the room and ran straight for me. I knelt down and picked him up as the teenage girl appeared worse for wear from the room. With her hand still petting Titus, Dupain-Cheng came over to get a good look at the ball of fluff. I grinned ready for her outreached hand to become a victim of his claws, only to be surprised as his head lifted from my chest and into her waiting hand.

“Gosh, that cat has never liked anyone and here he is clinging onto the two of you. Do you happen to be cat whisperers or something?”

“Or something,” Dupain-Cheng giggled like I was a part of her inside joke, “I had a stray cat that claimed me as his own for a little while, I learned a lot about them from him.”

Upset wasn’t the exact word choice to describe my feelings, but frustration that part of my plan had been foiled. At the very least he was fluffy and the purr that came from his chest as I lightly stroked him was pleasant. Not a total loss.

“What will his name be?”

I blinked up at her, realizing I had been lost in my own world for enough time to not realize she’d acquired Titus’ leash and was walking towards the door. The fact she had not mentioned my assumption that it would be okay to adopt two animals was unexpected, but I didn’t wish to test my luck in front of the shelter worker by questioning it.

Looking down at the cat in my arms only one name seemed to fit, “Alfred.”

Her eyebrows rose in question and surprise.

“He looks just like Pennyworth and so I named him accordingly,” I stated disinterested in elaborating, causing her to snort before trying to cover it with a poor attempt at a natural cough.

Titus settled into the small back seat, while Alfred remained in my lap. As she started the car I could instantly tell that she was being considerate of the animals as she drove, what I would describe as normal, towards the manor. Expressing my gratitude was out of the question, but I was. Being scratched to death by Alfred as he feared for his life was not the way I wished to leave the world.

“The boys are coming over for a gaming tournament tonight and I was hoping that you would join them.”

“Tt, it is Alfred’s and Titus’ first night in the manor, it would be wrong to abandon them while they acclimate.”

“I’m sure Alfred would be fine on his own as he gets the lay of his new domain and Titus is welcomed to join of course. I like to think in the future you’d join your brothers when they come over and bring him with you when you do.”

“Why even bother going to your apartment, is it not your desire to move into the manor so you can find yourself permanently in my father’s bed?”

Dupain-Cheng choked a little at my bluntness, but she might as well learn I am not one to beat around the bush, even with such socially taboo topics such as sex.

“I don’t stay at the manor for this exact reason. I don’t want there to be any assumptions about the type of relationship I have with your father.”

“Tt, are you suggesting that you are not in an intimate relationship. Is that not why you choose to be close to Grayson, Todd, and Drake? So, you may be a family.”

There was a pause reflecting Dupain-Cheng’s careful consideration of her words. “My relationship with your brothers is separate from your father. I never want them to feel that our relationship is dependent on him.”

Considering her words, I was unsure I could see any truth in them. “While the morons might see you as their mother, do not think for a second that I will ever see you for anything more than you are.”

“Fair enough, I don’t need to be your mother Damian, just your friend. The fact that your brothers see me as more was not something I set out for, but something I am more than happy to be.”

“Pfft,” was all I managed. It seemed pointless to reiterate there was no chance of me becoming friends with a gold-digging harlot.

She’d understand eventually.

Chapter Text

As the buzzer to Marinette’s loft rang, I wasn’t sure if I hoped to find her on the other side of the door or elsewhere. Probably the latter, hoping she was there with Bruce, despite my present need to talk with her.

The idea was not too dissimilar to a Hallmark movie, but better than the reality we seemed to be faced with. Despite all cards face up on the table, the state of the relationship between Marinette and Bruce was uncertain. They seemed to be awkwardly swinging between amicable co-parenting, cringy flirting, and suspected intimacy. In truth, I guess we were back to where we were before the Catwoman incident.  

When the door remained shut for longer than a normal person would take to open it, I admit my hope of certain antics propagating behind the closed door flared higher.

Bruce hadn’t been at work when I’d gone to talk to him after my final. No one in his office was aware of his whereabouts, nor Alfred of Batman’s. Not even Alix, who I’d gotten a distinct impression loved to be in the know, knew where he was hiding, or so she claimed.  Now, Marinette was not where I expected.

Releasing a deep sigh but smiling due to the thought of them together, I turned away from the door ready to head back to the bank of elevators when it finally opened. My head swiveled quickly, and I took a second to take in the flustered woman standing before me. The way her shirt hung askew on her shoulder it was obvious she had tried to fuss with it only seconds before. Incriminating her further, was the fact her hair looked tamed by fingers and not a brush with the way the top sat strangely flattened upon the more teased underside. But the most damning evidence of something amiss, was how she was attempting to catch her breath against the door frame while trying to appear casual.

There was no helping the sly smile that slid into place, while I didn’t want to see it or really even imagine it—eww that’s my parents—the implication was something we—Jason, Tim, and I—could only hope for.

Well, as long as it was Bruce and not someone else on the other side of the door. A reality I hadn’t really considered, but one we could face, sadly.

A hand darted out into the hall, pulling with enough strength to cause me to stumble into the apartment. The door closed as soon as my body was past the threshold, which was fortunate as I was immediately forced to use it to keep myself upright as three kwamis zoomed past in a game similar to tag.

“Even after all these years, it is still utter chaos when I release them all at the same time,” Marinette said exasperatedly as she went to continue cleaning up a shattered vase that had somehow managed to make it quite a distance across her island to the floor.

Around the room, the kwamis seemed to have grouped together to create as much chaos as possible. The damage was minimal, the mess was plentiful. Seeing as any efforts to clean would be immediately undone, I went over to where a few were lying on Marinette’s fallen bedding, playing a game of poker using her beads as chips. My desire to be dealt in was immediately dampened as I realized they had no clue what they were doing.

“Hit me.” Barkk, barked before Trixx flipped a card over from the deck, as if it were a game of Blackjack and not Texas Hold’Em.

“Awe, you win.” Mullo squeaked, pouting as she looked over at her own pair of queens.

Trixx tsked at the small mouse, “how do you figure?”

“Barkk has all different cards, so it’s a full house.”

I backed up carefully to avoid detection so as to not be dragged into the debate of poker rules. One forgets the freedom Marinette offered to them was not common before her. Therefore, the rules of games like poker, would be unknown to them, even though they’d been around since before the invention of cards.

Unfortunately, my feet led me back into a pile of clothing on the floor, the act enough to sign my death warrant as they were obviously Marinette’s creations. There was a whole lot of black and I instantly recognized the pieces were intended for Damian’s closet. Knowing if Marinette found them on the floor the kwamis were likely to never see the light of the room again, I immediately went to place the fallen pieces nicely upon her worktable.

The fourth shirt I picked up caused my heart to studder, it was larger than the others, not black but a dark emerald green, the initials BW embroidered almost unnoticeably into the cuffs. Below the shirt was a pair of slacks with a similar sheen, a matching set reminiscent of outfits I knew Bruce to wear. The fact Marinette was clearly still making attire for him gave me renewed hope that their relationship was not completely lost. Not with the amount of care evident in the production of the shirt.

As if the way I’d found the clothes in my hand was a sign of what I should do with them, an idea suddenly formed, even if it screamed more like something Jason would do. A quick glance over my shoulder found Marinette still busy cleaning and I took it as a sign of good luck.

Stepping as nonchalant as possible over to the steps that led to the small loft that housed her bed, I casually dropped the shirt over the railing as if no thought was given to its placement and simply discarded. The intension was to then do the same with pants on her bed but as soon as my foot was on the first step a loud crash from the bathroom caused every living thing in the loft to stop dead in their tracks.

“That’s it,” Marinette huffed, stomping her foot for emphasis, “back in the box.”

Several shoulders slumped as they floated as slowly as possible to the sewing box that held their permanent home. The last to enter was Plagg who’d come from the bathroom looking rather smug at whatever damage he’d caused. Winking in my direction before he disappeared from this plain of existence.

With the chaos finally contained, Marinette came over to me, taking the pants from my hands and the shirt from the railing. She said nothing about them as she carefully laid them atop the ones meant for Damian.

“How did today’s final go?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I came to sit beside her. “Decent enough, I’ll walk away with a B at least.”

“That’s good?” Marinette pulled back to search my face, likely expecting me to look happy at the proclamation. “You’re not here because you think Bruce will be disappointed if you get something less than an A, right?’

The snort that left my mouth had a little spit and I lifted my hand to cover the less than charming reaction. “No, if I feared Bruce’s reactions to my grades I would have never been able to finish high school…I mean perhaps a part of me is scared to tell him I’m thinking of changing majors. I know he wants Wayne Enterprises to be a family business, but I’m thinking maybe I’m not cut out for the business side of it.”

“Truthfully, I don’t think Bruce would be surprised to hear you say it. I think it shocked him more when you decided to go into business in the first place. You seem much more of an HR kind of guy… But, either way, I know Bruce and I would both support whatever decision you feel right for you.”

“Even if it’s to join the police force in Bludhaven?”

The color in Marinette’s face drained and I smiled a little as if I was joking. I wasn’t ready to admit it was something I was actually considering.

“Bludhaven could definitely use some of Ladybug’s luck if Nightwing or Officer Richard Grayson ever needs her assistance.”

I smiled though she couldn’t see it, she really was the best mom in the world, and I was lucky she’d chosen to step up and become mine.

“So, if career aspirations aren’t what brought you to my doorstep, why are you here instead of out celebrating the end of your freshman year with friends?”

The pleasant mood in the room disappeared and I sat up to where my elbows now rested upon my knees. “I’m dealing with a couple of problems.”

“Hmm, plural.”

“Yea—"

“Well, which one would you like to tackle first.”

As if her statement was enough to unravel, my head snapped forward, only stopped from falling from my neck by my hands. “I don’t want to tackle them; I just want them to disappear.”

“If you’re wanting a hit, I’m not the one to go to, that would be Jason.”

My eyes snapped up from the random spot they’d been focusing on to look back up at Mari, completely surprised by the statement that had just come out of her mouth. Only she was trying her hardest to hold back a playful smile.

“Inappropriate? Sorry, trying to lighten the mood.”

The sheepish smile she gave me had me holding back my own laugh, “maybe a little too soon?”

“Fair enough. But in all seriousness, it would be nice if we could just wish away our problems, but trust me when I say, even if we could, the consequences can be harder to deal with than the problem itself.” She fiddled with her earrings, highlighting her knowledge of the point.

“Speaking from experience?”

“No, but I’m kind of best friends with those who do…. Since we can’t wish them away, let’s start with the easier of your problems and work our way up. Problem number one... and go.”

“Damian.”

“Again, I am not in the removal business.”

“No!” I huffed out in frustration and a little humor. “It’s not that. I—I can’t seem to connect with him.”

Marinette chuckled humorlessly, “I’m not going to lie to you and pretend that I have any clue how. He kind of reminds me of a girl I once knew, every time I think I’m making some kind of progress I realize it’s only him manipulating me.”

“I’m assuming that you eventually became friends with the girl?”

“You would be assuming wrong. In the beginning I thought I could show her how she didn’t have to lie to have friends or get ahead in life. But she wouldn’t stop despite my efforts.”

“I feel like there is a lesson here to do with Damian, but I’m a little confused as this doesn’t sound like one of your usual, ‘everything turns out for the best.’”

“Oh, but it does. Turned out she was the second Hawkmoth and is currently rotting away in jail with no friends or influence.”

My mouth hung open slightly from the shock that came from how happy her proclamation seemed to make her.

“Are you saying that Damian is irredeemable, destined only to become a villain?”

“Absolutely not! Lila is a psychopath,” she fired out quickly, looking at me as if the statement was a fact one could look up on the internet. “I know Jason likes to joke, but Damian is definitely not. He was raised in a place that values one’s ability to manipulate to get what you want. I only use Lila as reference because I believe the only way for Damian to change is to witness a reason to. Lila kept lying and manipulating because she never got caught by those who mattered, and she was able to get ahead further than she would if she hadn’t. When it all finally exploded in her face, it was too late, she’d dug a hole too deep to ever reach redemption.”

“So, how do we get Damian to change, prevent another Lila?”

“Perhaps change is the wrong word to have used there. He’s a little rough around the edges, but they just need to be filed down, not changed outright. At his core, I can tell he’s a good kid, and wants to connect. But with how he was raised connections are seen as weaknesses, he needs to see that they can be a strength. The fact that you’re here asking how to make that happen, tells me that we’re already on the right track to showing him this, that his family can be his greatest strength if he lets it. We just have to give it some time.”

“You do know that you are talking about him watching one of the most dysfunctional families ever, right?”

Scoffing, Mari playfully shoved my shoulder. “Unconventional, not dysfunctional. Don’t believe for a second that there isn’t a single family out there that doesn’t have problems. Some of their problems are minor in comparison, some work through their quicker than others, and some are better at hiding them. The idea of a perfect family is a social media construct, an illusion. If you believe they just wake-up and exist with life being perfect, they’ve sadly accomplished what they’ve wanted. But the reality is that a majority of them are covering the cracks in their foundations, not showing you the work behind the scenes, or how it wasn’t perfect just moments before the camera started rolling.”

Taking my hand she squeezed it tightly, “Considering everything you boys have been through you’ve developed into three of the very best people I know. Without League influence and your help, the same will be true for Damian.”

Releasing a deep sigh, I thought about what that would look like for Damian. “I don’t think he’ll ever want to be someone that society prescribes as normal.”

I met a look that told me to look in a mirror.

“What is normal Dick? There isn’t a single person who fits into that mold, some people work harder to hide the fact they don’t. Personal, it’s the things that make us not ‘normal,’ that I love the most. Jason is—was a crime lord, “my expression, made her chuckle, “okay, I meant look at all the good that’s happened because of it. Tim is an insomniac because he wants to do it all and have a big impact. You’re so optimistic, even when it feels like the world is falling down. It’s concern at times, but also the best thing about you. I’m in charge of numerous pocket gods and let's not even get started on Bruce's not normal. The fact we all have atypical behaviors doesn’t matter, were good people at our core and we are what families should be. Accepting of each other for who we are, willing to help one another, and love each other because it’s deserved. Few families can honestly say the same without it merely being said as lip service. Damian will see this, I know he will, because I see it.  

“How long do you think it will take for it to click?”

“There is no timeline for things like this, we can only hope that it is sooner rather than later. And…make sure that we don’t get discouraged when it doesn’t seem like we’re making progress. Just keep showing him and one day it will click. Either because of a certain event that just shatters the wall he’s built to prevent the possibility, or because it’s chipped away over time allowing the connection without you even realizing it.”

There was silence as I thought about some of the ways I could really show Damian that I wanted him to be a part of this family. A big catastrophic event didn’t seem like a good idea considering those the family had just suffered, but chipping away seemed easy enough.

“So, if that’s your smaller problem, what is the larger one?”

Shutting my eyes, my mind shifted over to what had really brought me here. I cringed thinking about how the evening might end once I shared what had been weighting on my mind for the last two days.

“Babs.”

The squeak that came out of her mouth would have been cute if wasn’t disconcerting.  “Okay, I can do this,” she pep-talked herself awkwardly. “Okay,” one final deep breath loudly released with an exaggerated pout of her lips, “when a man loves a woman.”

“Oh god, no!” I shouted, rising from the couch to put some distance between the uncomfortable conversation she was moments away from starting. “Bruce gave me the sex talk, a long time ago.”

“Thank kwamis,” her body slouched back into the couch. “I thought for sure you were past needing it, but…”

The red shade to my cheeks darkened tenfold. I knew if needed I could talk to her about it, but Bab’s and my intimate relationship was between us and that was where it would stay.

“Oh,” her hand went up to cover the shock on her face, “okay…OKAY. We will make it work with whatever she decides. I might be a little young to be a grandmother, but I think I can rock the look. Just I’m not dying my hair grey. If I haven’t earned it naturally, it has no business in my hair.”

“NO!” I’d never gotten the whole fainting from a statement shocking one’s sensibilities, but suddenly I felt as if I might. “Babs isn’t pregnant, she figured out I’m Nightwing and wants in.”

Marinette froze almost as if someone had pressed the pause button on a movie. When it took too long for her to reboot, I lightly poked her arm, causing her head to snap back at me.

“I love her Mari; I don’t want to have to erase her memories to protect our identities.”

Marinette laughed, “just like I don’t go around killing people Dick, I also don’t just go around erasing memories.”

The expression I had wasn’t necessarily a pout, but close enough as I didn’t find it funny. I was truly at a lost at what I was supposed to do.

Marinette’s expression softened, and she smiled lightly at me as she took my hands and pulled me back down on the couch. “Do you trust her?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then there isn’t a problem.”

“But look what happened with Bruce. Someone knowing our identities is dangerous.”

“Yes, look what happened. Protecting our identities is important, you don’t want the wrong person to know. But when they do, we do what we have to…which may or may not include wiping some memories. But, hiding it from the people you love, trust and most importantly want to be with long term, is not a winning strategy.”

I remained quiet but looked at her with hope that she would continue, help ground me, and stop the loop of fear that had been screaming in my head since Babs sprung this on me.

“How can someone strive to protect humanity when they don’t get to partake in what makes us human, like love? Superhero or not, a relationship has to be built, continued to be worked upon, and remodeled if needed in order to last. The successful relationships are built on trust and communication. Still people hide the things closest to them in the beginning despite this, rightfully so. It’s not until one’s had time to determine if they can trust their partner, know they love them and most importantly decide if they want the relationship to go further before they do what people fear the most.”

“Which is?”

“Take the risk of being honest and share everything.” I couldn’t help but look at her with a little confusion at how it would be a risk at that point. “Unfortunately, we know even if we answer yes to all those questions, the answers can change. How many people have said they love someone and trust them, only to find out their partner’s been cheating on them, or they’ve grown apart instead of together? Despite the risk the truth is not telling them dooms your relationship either way. They need to know so they can learn why and how to protect themselves... or decide they need to walk away because they don’t think they could manage the pressure. Fortunately for you, she already knows, and it sounds like she has no plans to walk away and already wants to mitigate the risk to her by choosing to be by your side in and out of a mask.”

“How can I let her do that. If I love her, how can I put her life in guaranteed danger?”

“She’s the commissioner’s daughter and the girlfriend of a Wayne, her life is always at risk of someone getting the wrong idea of how to punish her father or how to get money off you and yours. At least by fighting beside you, it ensures she knows how to defend herself and if she gets hurt at least it is, in part, on her own terms.”

Resigning with a little pout, I didn’t have to really think about it to know she was right. Still, it was only part of the problem, “how do I tell Bruce?”

Marinette looked up at the skylight above her bed, as if the heavens could give her strength or at least an answer. “I’ll handle it.”

I nodded my head hesitantly glad it wouldn’t have to be me.

I wasn’t sure this is where I pictured Bab’s and my relationship going. Partners of course, but not necessarily in mask. Was I excited or anxious?

“Relationships change and evolve with time and circumstance. I know you’d do anything for her, it’s time to let her do the same.”

Chapter Text

For months I played the game that was required of me by those occupying the manor. For months I strived to adjust to their ridiculous expectations. Fighting against things that were ingrained from birth, to fit into something that this family perceived to be societally acceptable—though in truth they themselves could barely pass as such.

And yet this evening proved it was all for naught, my efforts were not to be rewarded. Slade Wilson prowled the streets of Gotham and I had been left in the manor while the rest went to apprehend him. It was infuriating and insulting, with their only excuse being the need for my safety. Another demonstration of how they treated me as if made of fragile glass, both in physicality and constitution.

I knew the truth though: they still didn’t trust me, nor see me as part of this thing they called a family. Which was completely fine, I didn’t need them to be my family, but the lack of trust was unfounded if they’d just listen. I no longer wished to kill Slade Wilson. No, I wanted proper revenge, the type Ladybug once spoke of. To accomplish this, Wilson needed to suffer, and death would not bring that, only the loss of his freedom.

Hence, my current position before the glass enclosures of Grayson’s and Todd’s original uniforms, paying homage to the legacy of Robin. For a while I’d voiced the potential for a third to join this wall, Drake’s, but have been denied at every turn.

Tonight, instead of a uniform joining them, one would leave. The only question, which of the two atrocities would grace the skyline of Gotham once more? Actually, it was no question at all, the leotard had no business seeing the light of day, or the dark of night, ever again.

Not bothering to find a room, as it would waste time I’d already spent contemplating my decision, I changed in the middle of the empty cave. Securing my katana to my back and several borrowed batarangs to my waist, I left placing the spare mask upon my face for last.

The result as I looked at my reflection in the glass could only be described as right. Finally, greeting me was a reflection depicting what I’d been destined for. A legacy bigger than a single man, one I would shape to become even bigger than it had been.

The spare bike I’d used the last time was surprisingly filled with gas and sitting upon the main platform. When I settled myself upon it, the urge to look back into the main part of the cave gave me sight of Alfred hiding in the shadows. As astute as always, it appeared my intentions were well broadcasted, and he was likely the cause for my departure to have gone smoothly. A brief tilt of my head was given in recognition before I was out of the cave and headed towards the streets of downtown Gotham.

The intel gathered had not placed Wilson in a specific place, just that he’d been seen in the city during daylight hours. Arrogant was one of the only words I thought of to describe the man, thus I knew he wouldn’t sneak around to get whatever had brought him to Gotham. Leading me to believe he would be sitting atop the beacon of the city, Wayne Tower, certain he would draw his pray. Slightly arrogant myself, I believed that pray to be me.

The building was too tall to grapple in a single go, and I was not in the mood to bother with trying to scale it by other means. Choosing to take the elevator to the top may have been unusual, but in this case, I believed the most dramatic entrance would also be the most mundane.

The unexpected presence on the lift had me unsheathing my katana hastily as I was unprepared to meet Wilson so soon. The other body mimicked my own, the signs of readiness for an unexpected attack, shifting quickly to relief upon noting who the other was.

“Ladybug?”

“Dam—no…Robin?” The Guardian’s head dropped, but her shoulder shook as she laughed. “A second Robin was not what I expected, but I should not be surprised, mon Petit Oiseau. Are you here for your revenge?”

“Yes, I will see him to prison.”

The smile I received was warm, relieved, I saw within it the acceptance I’d been ashamed to admit I desired from those I was supposed to call family. “Okay...he’s on the roof, and I’ve called for backup. We only need to wait for it to arrive.”

“You are not requiring me to leave?”

“Should I?”

“It is what Batman would do.”

There was no response as Ladybug walked over to one of the benches that lined the foyer, she sat down and patted the space beside her. I made no movement to join her, causing her head to tilt in an unspoken question of really? “Slade Wilson wishes to be found, mon Petit Oiseau, he will not go anywhere until he is. So, we have time to sit and talk.”

With no desire to admit the probable accuracy of the statement I tried to maintain a look of impassiveness as I came to sit beside her.

Breaking the momentary silence, “the reason Batman would desire for you to be elsewhere is because he fears for your safety,” Ladybug said, not looking at me to refrain from appearing patronizing.

“I am more than capable of taking care of myself. As you are aware of my maternal family, you know that I have been trained to do so since birth.” I countered, sick of the same conversation, ending in the same results.

“Absolutely, but his desire and methods to keep you safe don’t stem from a belief that you are not capable. When someone loves another, sometimes they act outside of what others might see as rational.”

Cutting off my retort with a brief hand upon my own, she continued. “You have to understand, the last time that uniform was worn, the person who’d worn it died at the hands of Joker. Mon Oisillon was trained well to take care of himself, but there are always things you can’t account for that can make even the most capable of persons a victim. Your grandfather can attest to this, non.”

Nodding my head was the only response I could afford to give. My head swam with trying to figure out who Ladybug was talking about. I thought for sure this was Todd’s costume, but she had said the owner had died.

“Slade Wilson has made it known you are his target; Batman wishes to keep you as safe as possible while he is dealt with. We all wish to make sure you don’t accidently become a victim of circumstances we can’t account for, as Deathstroke is a formidable foe.”

“And yet you will allow me to remain? Will that not ruin your partnership with my father?”

Her head did a weird movement, not shaking or nodding, somewhere in between. “There is a chance he will not be happy with my decision, but he knows that I will risk the same as I did with mon Oisillon if anything were to happen to you.”

“What could be greater to risk than my father’s anger?” I tried to joke, but as it was not my forte, I knew it fell flat.

“Changing fate.”

“Are you allowed to do that as Guardian?”

“Timelines are a complicated beast and not something to be messed with in general. Which is why I am usually not the one to make that kind of decision, I leave it up to those with more experience. But, if I need to save my family, I am willing to break some rules to ensure it happens. Still, changing time doesn’t always change fate, just how it comes to pass.”

The meaning behind her words sent a shiver down my back and I wondered if she’d had experience with it. For once I listened to the small voice in my head that told me it wouldn’t be appropriate to ask her about it at this time. So instead, I asked the first question that had come into my head. “Are we family? I wasn’t even aware we were friends.”

Scrunching her nose in a way that one might deem as adorable, she seemed caught for a second before she was able to reply. “One does not have to be friends to be family. But...once you play a game of Keep Away with me, we’re friends.”

A friend was not something I’d ever thought to want or think I would have. In that moment I wasn’t sure those feelings changed. The woman before me felt like something more, something different to yearn for. What exactly, I could not put a name to, but I knew it wasn’t friend.

“Are we to play a game of Keep Away once more?’ Her expression questioned my statement. “Am I to hide as Slade Wilson is taken down?”

“Would your need for revenge be satisfied by merely watching?”

“No, I would need him to know he was in prison because of me.”

“Then that is what needs to happen.”

Had my hands been exposed instead of covered by gloves, she would have been able to see the white in my knuckles as I clinched my fist tighter. “Why can my father not see this?”

“Have you told him?”

“In not so many words.”

“Mon Petit Oiseau, have you told him that you need to be present for his arrest?”

“No.” I leveled a look of unhappiness at her, neither Batman nor Bruce have afforded me the chance to say it. The moment the word revenge or Wilson exited my mouth, all discussions were ended.

“If you have not told him, how is he supposed to know.”

“He is my father, isn’t he just supposed to know?”

She laughed, the sound pleasant, like a bell. Oddly so much joy found in the sound. “How many parents wish they could know their children’s thoughts. Perhaps it is better to say that parents should know when their children have things to say. But you have to remember your father was denied the ability to be with you since birth, it takes time to figure out a person’s tells. And the only experience he has raising kids is with teenagers… who always have something to say…you know they have something to say, but they just don’t want to say it to their parents.”

“He does not listen when speak, none of them do.”

“Do you give them the chance? Or do you simply believe they will not listen and clip your words?”

There was no response to give as I was unsure of the correct answer. In the beginning I did not, but perhaps over time I learned my father did not truly wish to hear what I had to say, finding my words too far from his convictions and such. By the time I found my own ideas aligning, I guess I did begin to speak less.

“You need to give them a chance, let them listen and listen in return. Hear what they’re saying and not what you believe they are. The way they talk of you, I know they wish to hear you, to understand you. But if you continue to treat them as an enemy, they’ll never have a chance to become anything more.”

Only have one true enemy in the house, I blurted the first thought to enter my mind. Not caring of the possible repercussions of my blunt statement. “Are you talking about my brother’s or my father’s harlot?”

If there had been a drink in her mouth it would have decorated the floor. Clearing her throat, she prepared for what I was sure to be her berating me for my foul language, as Pennyworth often did. Surprising me instead with, “are you sure you’ve accurately described her?”

“Yes.”

Scratching behind her neck, Ladybug looked a little uncomfortable. “Are you sure?”

“Do you know her?”

“In a way, I suppose I do.”

“Then you are aware that she is after my father for his money and nothing more. She is unworthy to stand beside him.”

My jaw clicked with anger as I talked about her. It had been over two months and my attempts to remove her had thus far failed. My father did not even blink at the cost of my art supplies or additional clothing I precured from MDC ‘s website. My love for both Titus and Alfred prevented me from ever considering neglecting them, despite my original plan. And any words spoken illy of the woman were shut down immediately. If I would not have been the first suspect in her murder, I would have seriously contemplated her removal in that way.

“What makes you believe she is unworthy?”

‘By not being you,’ was my thought, or at least the main one I had. “As if being a gold-digger was not enough. My father has two legacies to his name, she has none. My father needs someone who can stand beside him, both in the mask and out without others questioning it. Then, there is the fact she is a weakness to my father both from his irrational attachment, which makes him reckless, and her inability to protect herself from injury due to the villain known as air.”

“Do you know these things for a fact or are you projecting your desires for her to be another? Say…your mother.”

“No!” I am unsure what else to say. Again, she is correct in interpreting my thoughts, but she missed ever so slightly. How does one tell someone they wish they were dating their father in lieu of another, without them interpreting you asking for them to become a mistress of sorts?

“Mon Petit Oiseau, only your father has the right to decide who is worthy of him. Perhaps it is her, maybe not. Either way, you should try to get to know her instead of assuming things. You might see she has at least some of the characteristics that you wish for your father’s partner to have. And you might find other things that make her worthy of him that you hadn’t thought of…that is if she were dating your father.”

“I—"

The doors to the building opened causing both Ladybug and I to jump up with our weapons at the ready. Batman and Robin walked through the front door, while Red Hood and Nightwing came from the lift that led to the parking garage.

Upon seeing me, Batman seemed to freeze in place. Ladybug pressed past me, her hand lingering on my shoulder in solidarity as she passed. Motioning to my father she pulled him aside to where their conversation would not be heard by others.

“We all agree, I looked better in that. Right?” Red Hood joked as my brothers came to surround me.

“I am not sure that anyone can be considered to have looked good in this monstrosity,” I countered as serious as ever, though I suppose it could have been taken jokingly.

“It’s the colors, isn’t it? You can thank him, he chose them.” Red Hood hooked his thumb over towards Nightwing.

Nightwing smacked Red Hood playfully over the head, “You know why I chose those colors, they’re important to me.”

“If muted slightly they could be passable.” I leveled my gaze at Nightwing, “as is, they threaten to cause bleeding from the eyes.”

Red Hood held up his hand, and I tentatively slapped it in what is known as a high five. A gesture I’d never been given, nor returned.

“You sound like Mari.” Nightwing huffed in frustration. I breathed in deeply through my nose to keep an insult from passing my lips. Ladybug was right, I should get to know her before I pass judgement, or something like that.

Looking back, I found Ladybug and Batman in conversation. For once it appeared my father was doing most of the listening, in a way I’d only ever witness with one other person.

“Despite the colors, the uniform suits you,” Robin said drawing my attention away, I tilted my head unsure I had heard him correctly. “Not sure I’m a hundred percent ready to move on from Robin, but maybe it’s time to become officially Red Robin and pass the mantel.”

Nightwing said nothing, Red Hood shrugged his shoulders as if it weren’t the worst idea. Looking back over my shoulder I looked at my father who was now doing the talking. “He’ll never allow it; he thinks I’m like my mother.”

“Are you?” Red Hood questioned.

“I was.”

“And now?”

Honestly, “I don’t want to be.”

“Look, the reason you haven’t been given that uniform has nothing to do with him thinking you’re unworthy.” I gave Nightwing a look that told him just how much I believed him. “Okay, maybe in the beginning when he didn’t know you. But now we know that’s not the case and never really was. You are truly nothing like her because you’re better in every way.” He placed his hand upon my shoulder, and I looked at it as if I was contemplating breaking it, but he refused to retract it. “Batman didn’t give you the cape because he wants you to be a kid, experience what you’ve missed out on growing up.”

“And Ladybug is likely to string him up by his balls if he got himself another child vigilante.”

“Red Hood come on.” Nightwing massaged his temple as if a headache had formed instantly. “He’s a kid, don’t talk like that around him.”

“Please, like the baby assassin hasn’t probably literally done it to someone before.”

For the record, I had not.

“Anyway—" Nightwing scowled at Red Hood who in turned lifted his hands in a placating fashion, even though he wasn’t done.

“Not judging, there are a couple of people who I’d happily try it out on myself.” Red Hood pulled me into him for what was affectionally known as a side hug. An attempt to bond no doubt, but I still couldn’t help but tense from the sudden physical contact.

“Anyway,” Nightwing tried again, “based on the fact that Ladybug is over there arguing your case to join us tonight, I think you might be in luck for long-term enrollment.”

Looking one last time over my shoulder, I saw the moment my father lost whatever argument they were having as his head tilted to the side as if cracking his neck. One of his tells I’d recently come to recognize, as his admission of defeat. In response, Ladybug’s smile grew but not mockingly due to victory. The patterned response from Batman was to return the smile and lightly touch Ladybug’s face. This time the softness of the gesture seemed out of place in his black suit.

A song and dance the pair had done many times before, and I assumed would do far into the future.

What that the realization hit me like a freight train. I was right, Marinette was a master manipulator. For yes, I had seen this playout many times before, but never between Ladybug and Batman, always between Marinette and Bruce. It could have been a coincidence, but as soon as the thought had crossed my mind the magic assisting in hiding her identity broke and all the mannerisms I’d been disgusted by in Marinette, were present in Ladybug.  

Turning back to the others, I tried to hide the influx of emotions, not sure which my mind was settling upon.

Disappointed, for idolizing a woman I clearly didn’t know.

Disgusted, for doing exactly what Ladybug had accused me of, being blinded by misguided desires when judging another.

Irritated, I both liked and despised the same woman.

Happy, because of what it could meant that they were one in the same.

Frustrated, I was allowing this to distract me from the bigger picture as the man in question was still waiting for us upon the roof.

As if my thought echoed through the hall, Batman and Ladybug separated, walking quickly to our family huddle.

“Nightwing and Red Hood will take the elevator to the roof. Robin will go with me, to arrive by the emergency exit. Robin…2.0 will join Ladybug in grappling up to the roof.”

Everyone nodded their heads and moved to make their appointed way up to the top of the building. Once on the side of the building Ladybug flicked her wrist and her yo-yo flew straight up past the point of being able to be seen. Looking up at her, I realized I’d settled on single feeling. One I’d felt when I first saw myself in the Robin uniform.

Rightness.

Chapter Text

“They’re going to realize just how much they love each other at our funeral.” Tim lamented from his cage beside me.

Dick, ever the big brother, tried to placate our growing fears. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think it does,” I threw out as I looked at the vat of Mr. Freeze’s newest liquid nitrogen concoction.

“Damian knows that we’re here. He’ll tell Bruce and Mari and we’ll be out of here before you know it.”

After Deathstroke, I’d thought we’d gone from being enemy number one, to brothers in our own messed up kind of way with Damian. So, when he suggested getting Ladybug and Batman together, there was no disagreement. At first glance it seemed like a good bonding activity, where nothing could go wrong.

No chance of something like, I don’t know…Scarecrow walking into the room with three fear-toxin filled syringes.

“I’m going to kill him when I get a hold of him. We wouldn’t be in this mess if he wasn’t so good at staging a kidnapping.”

Sure, I may have been the one to suggest a hostage situation when throwing out ideas. But the point was for it to only appear like we were in danger, with Damian acting as our fake kidnapper sent by the League to remove the competition. Not for three very real villains to prey upon his prep work and use the opportunity to leverage us for money or depending on the day, chaos.

This would definitely be the last time we ever listened to a plan created by Demon Spawn.

“Considering where he grew up can you really blame him? Plus, it needed to be believable, or they would smell the lie a mile away and this would all be for nothing.” Tim added, his eyes trying to track everything happening around us.

“It might be anyways if we don’t get out of this, because it doesn’t matter if we’re dead.” I hissed through a clinched jaw. I took a deep breath trying to release some of the tension in my body. It did absolutely nothing. “Would have thought though from his upbringing, as good as he is at kidnapping, he’d be even better at preventing one.”

“Maybe he thought it more believable if someone else had us, easier to explain when it was all done. I’m sure he has it all under control.”

I didn’t need to see Tim’s head to hear the snap it made as we both looked at Dick as if he was crazy. Perhaps they had injected him with an unknown drug on the way over that made him stupid.

“Does this look like anything is under control?” I waved my hands frantically around as our three kidnappers finished their preparations and walked over to the cages.

Riddler laughed cutting off Dick’s reply, “Well, well, well. It’s not my birthday, but I definitely approve my gifts.”

“The Wayne and Drake heirs all sitting prettily wrapped up for someone’s consumption. How lucky you are that the three of us happened upon you. I can only imagine what other far more nefarious individuals might have done to you.” Scarecrow added.

“As long as your fathers pay a small ransom, this will all be over,” Mr. Freeze said as he finished adjusting the controls on the panel before him.

With an air of confidence usually reserved for the suit, Tim bated the villains. “You will never get my parents to pay seeing as they are likely lost somewhere in the Amazon. And Batman and Robin will save us before Bruce Wayne could even type in his pin code.”

The maniacal laugh of the Riddler’s filled the large chamber. “Batman and his spotted friend are a little boxed up at the moment I’m afraid. They’ve been in my trap before we even found you, not even Bruce Wayne with all his connections and money wouldn’t be able to contact them. I’ve made sure of it.”

As if the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room, what little pride we had left being in these cages, was suddenly gone knowing our saviors were otherwise occupied.

“If the money isn’t in the account at the end of the hour, because your fathers won’t pay like you say, it isn’t too much of a loss. Freeze here has been kind enough to let me experiment and I must admit I am rather excited to see the results.” Punctuating his point, Scarecrow looked at the syringe in his right hand, spraying a little of the liquid within onto the floor. “Question: when frozen is someone still capable of nightmares? Hypothesis: yes.”

“Of course, you’ll need to come out of the deep freeze if we want to know the results.” Mr. Freeze added dryly.

A colorful array of expletive’s left not only my mouth at the horrible idea of not only being victim to Scarecrow’s fear toxin, but the statistically unlikely chance of surviving one of Mr. Freeze’s experiments. Other than himself, the statistics I believed rested at a firm zero percent success rate.

“You’re not that stupid, are you?” Tim spoke, no fear lacing his voice despite the fact he was clearly testing three supervillains, whose mood appeared to be leaning towards chaos over money for the moment. “Killing us means you’ve removed the only leverage you have over two of the richest men in the world.”

“You're quick, kid. I’ll give you that. But there is an interesting rumor spreading around Gotham. From the sounds of it, Brucie’s gotten himself a legitimate heir. If he doesn’t pay up this time, your deaths will ensure next time he knows we’re not messing around.”

A growl was unexpectedly ripped from my throat, bringing every eye upon me. “I’ll kill you before I let you touch a single hair.”

I might be a little mad about our current predicament and expressed some of my frustration, but I’d come to love the little bugger. The darkness that touched his soul talked to my own. No one, other than me, had the right to threaten him.

“Oh, so the rumors are true. It’s been close to an hour, should we go ahead and begin, now we have confirmation of the other Wayne.” Riddler looked over to his peers.

Mr. Freeze ignored his question, but Scarecrow lifted his needle heading towards Tim’s cage. “Why not?”

Tim moved to the other end, only to be grabbed by Riddler and held as Scarecrow made his way around the cage. The threats made between Dick and I were ignored as Tim thrashed violently.

Just as the needle was about to be pressed against Tim’s exposed skin, a caped crusader dropped from the rafters kicking the syringe from Scarecrow’s hand. The decision to attack was obviously spur of the moment as Robin was not in the best position and Riddler was afforded the opportunity to grab one of the discarded syringes and plunge it into our youngest brother’s neck.

The glare Robin threw was one of the scariest to come from the ten-year-old. Nightmare inducing in its own right. But too quickly it was replaced by unease.

It was heartbreaking to watch someone usually so stoic begin to breathe quickly, eyes darting around, haunted by unknown images. A soft whine left his throat as he backed up and tripped over an unseen obstacle.

“It’s okay Robin. Deep breaths,” Dick tried to coach him. But Robin had never gone through the fear toxin training, Marinette had been too afraid of what it might drag up and didn’t want Damian to have to relive it without cause. From the reaction he was having she might have been right and at the same time, been slightly short sighted.

Riddler laughed as he opened Tim’s cage to throw Robin inside before closing it quickly. “Come on, you’re going to want to see Batman’s face when I tell him we’ve captured his littlest bird.” The green menace skipped out of the room, not checking to see if his colleagues were following.  

With the click of the door Tim began to struggle while trying to restrain Robin as he thrashed violently, his whines pained as if being physically tortured. Both Dick and I were pulling against the metal bars hoping to suddenly gain Superman strength to get to our younger brothers.

After taking a right hook to his jaw, Tim finally got the upper hand, pulling the standardly equipped antidote from Robin’s utility belt and plunging the needle into his neck. As soon as it was administered Robin relaxed into Tim’s arms from the added sedative. For several seconds we were forced to watch as the whimpering softened, and his body’s twitching became less frequent before he completely stopped moving.

With Robin now asleep in his arms, Tim lightly stroked his hair in the same fashion Marinette did any time our heads ended up in her lap. It felt like a reminder, as Marinette’s simple existence often did, that everything would be fine, just as Dick had promised.

Or so I thought until the door opened once more to our three kidnappers, cackling with glee from Batman’s reaction to hearing they’d captured all of us.

“Let’s throw the Bat in first, we can shoot the video to Wayne and then maybe he’ll pay to save his kids from the same fate.”

Two heads nodded their agreement to Scarecrows plan. Tim lowered Robin to the floor and used the only thing at his disposal to fight off Scarecrow when he entered the cage. With a left hook he temporarily took Scarecrow down, but then Mr. Freeze entered, and Tim’s bare fist were of no use against his suit.

Knowing the most powerful person in the world—no not Superman—I expected at this point for Ladybug’s portal to open and save us as she had with Joker. Only she never appeared, and Tim was restrained against the metal bars, his arm injured in the process as he scraped and kicked at Mr. Freeze while Scarecrow dragged Robin out onto a table that was above the vat of liquid.

Painfully, slowly, the table lowered, taking my breath with it as I watched Robin disappear. Tears filled my eyes knowing we were seconds from losing the last person I’d ever expected, but now whole heartedly accepted as family.

Moving towards the cage door behind me, I gave it one last desperate shake to hopefully break the hinges. One final act to try and defy fate, and to my amazement the door creaked open slowly as if magically unlocked.

Not wasting a second to see if it was a trap, I raced out, looking very much like the crime lord Gotham had once labeled me as. Rushing towards Mr. Freeze, I grabbed a metal pipe that had been left out. Without caring about the potential consequences, I swung at him in the same manner Joker had at me.

There was no time to wait to see if he fell to the floor before I pulled the lever that had Robin rising from the vat. Confident he was no longer in danger, I turned to find Mr. Freeze on the floor and Scarecrow racing towards me with the last syringe of fear toxin. I swung the makeshift bat once more, connecting it with the man’s hand, breaking glass and a few fingers.

Seeing that he was outmatched, Riddler left with a snarky riddle about his impending return, leaving Scarecrow to my mercy and anger. Instead of showing my skill with a sword, I chose to practice with the pipe as if lining up for a pitch, showing Scarecrow the kind of power that would go behind the swing in case his hand wasn’t good enough reminder.

The burlap faced villain moved slowly towards the door, unwilling to turn his back to me, which was smart. I matched his pace, threatening him with my movements and not my words.

The moment I was ready to take my swing, I caught a light blue and white suited individual casually leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. I’d never seen them before, but I’d had enough experience with the miraculous to know the texture of one of their super-suits.

With only one other miraculous user in the world at the moment, I knew the woman to be Bunnix, who shook her head in a way that told me to ‘let it go.’ Which I did when Scarecrow took my lack of movement as an opportunity to flee.

The room finally free of conscious villains, Bunnix went to release Tim and Dick while I moved to save Robin from his precarious position.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could offer as Bunnix came to stand beside me.

“Why?”

“My idea almost got him killed and forced you to change time…again.”

The rabbit hero laughed and rolled her eyes, which was weird as I always figured whoever was in charge of monitoring time would either be completely emotionless or slightly eccentric, but never so flippant.

“Don’t worry about it, time wasn’t changed to my knowledge. Can’t monitor every moment you know.” She winked at me playfully. “I received the ransom note and knew that LB and the Bat were otherwise occupied and while I’m usually more of a behind the scenes kind of gal, I figured I could help.”

“How did you know about the ransom?” Tim interrupted.

“Tim, I know your smart.” Bunnix tapped her finger against the top of Tim’s head, a gesture asking him to use his brain.

For a second Tim looked offended at the hero’s actions, only for his face to pinch in a manner that I’d come to learn happened when he figured out something that he believed he should have seen earlier.

“Does B know?”

Lost, I look between the pair trying to decipher the secret code they were speaking. Across from me Dick seemed to be having a similar struggle, though in part his was due to his split attention between the pair and Robin who he’d taken from my arms only seconds before.

“I’ve given him a couple of hints here and there, I’m also pretty confident he caught me coming out of my burrow once in the office.”

It was like the magic snapped as soon as I made the connection and the unique hair and personality of Ms. Kubdel overlayed the blue mask.

“You guys can handle the rest, so I’m going to head back to work.” Opening her parasol, she shot out a portal I’d recognized from my dreams. Waving with a flick of her hand she jumped through before it disappeared with a pop.

“What do we do now?” Tim asked.

“Leave before Mom and Dad find out the truth of what happened?” Dick offered.

With no better alternative we all nodded our head. Hopefully they would buy the Riddler was bluffing about having us.

Before we could even turn to face the doors, a portal, similar to the one Bunnix had exited, opened with Ladybug and Batman racing through with weapons and fist at the ready. Seeing no immediate danger, shockingly Batman raced towards us. Reaching me first, I was pulled into a tight hug, released only slightly so he could use one arm to grab Tim and pull him into the embrace.

Over his shoulder I witness Ladybug follow suit, reaching for Dick and awkwardly hugging him due to Robin still being asleep in his arms.

“Explain?” Batman’s voice tried to come out stoic, but it was laced with worry and tears?!

Unsure if he was talking about why we were here or how we were free in the room, I chose to answer the one that would be easier to explain and get us in less trouble. Relatively at least. “Bunnix.”

“Thank kwamis.” Ladybug said taking Robin from Dick and kissing his forehead. I knew Demon Spawn would bristle at the contact if he were awake, but asleep and vulnerable he nuzzled his head into her chest after contact. “She’s always been the Agent A to my Batman. “

“Are you alright?” Batman asked, using his gloved hands to tilt our heads, checking for injury.

“We were being stupid and practicing binding techniques with Damian, when they found us.” Tim partially lied.

“He’s a little too good at it, and the three of them found us, taking us here without any chance of fighting them off. Robin tried to rescue us when it seemed like they were done waiting on the ransom but got hit with the fear toxin…We administered the antidote, but he’ll probably still be out for a little while.” Dick finished.

“I’m so sorry, Riddler’s men jumped us and took my yo-yo. When I finally got it back, I was afraid we might be too late.” Ladybug’s eyes didn’t leave Robin as her hand hovered over him, releasing her healing glow to cleanse the rest of the toxin from his system.

“Almost, but Bunnix got the ransom note and knew you were detained. Helped us get the upper hand and then went right back to her regularly programed day.” I snarked, because it was kind of cool how nonchalant she was about everything. Must come with knowing the outcome of everything.

Though the words were indecipherable, the unmistakable sound of the comms sounded in Batman’s ears.

“We’ve got them, safe and unharmed…Copy coming out now.” Releasing us, Batman walked over to Ladybug, but looked down at Robin. “It’s time to face the press. Batgirl is working to keep the police outside for the time being, but if we don’t leave soon, they’ll get impatient knowing it’s the Wayne being held.”

“I’ll meet you outside, a guardian needs to collect the boys.”

Calling upon her lucky charm, what looked like polka dotted smelling salts fell down into her hand.

Placing the salts under Robin’s nose, he awoke with a start. Despite being held in Ladybug’s arms he didn’t protest, or even attempt to remove himself.

In fact, much to everyone’s surprise he seemed content to remain, particularly when Batman approached him and ran his hand through his hair affectionately. It was a beautiful moment, and I was glad Dick had thought to locate his phone so he could capture it.

If nothing else in our plan worked—which being honest none of it had—at the very least, we could blow the image up and frame it. Then the pair could see just how perfect they were together, and as a family, every time they went to the cave.

Moment over, too soon if you asked, Ladybug released Robin and disappeared into the rafters, leaving the building so she could arrive on scene to collect us as planned.

Daylight found a crowd of reporters and lurkers behind the police tape, and a fair number of police looking relieved to not have to storm the building for a rescue mission. A few followed our exit to rush in to collect Mr. Freeze and search the building for his accomplices. Off to the side, standing beside her father—though he had no clue—was Batgirl, a recent addition to our merry band of misfit toys.

She shifted upon seeing us, causing her cape to move and expose the person standing behind her. Before I could help myself, I launched forward towards her, capturing her and the rest of Gotham’s attention as I screamed, “Mom!”

Without coordinating the attack, Dick and Tim ran with me, all three of us stumbling into her and almost taking her to the ground with our enthusiasm. Around us were the flash of cameras from the media, but I didn’t care, they could post what they wanted.

Taking the attention in stride, Marinette kissed each of our foreheads as she usually did, holding us away to check for injuries she knew to not exist.

Batman and Robin approached, and Marinette released us to put on quite the performance as she thanked the duo for saving her sons. Robin was in for a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him closely as she personally thanked him.

To Robin it would appear as if she were legitimately thanking him for saving us, as a civilian she would be naïve as to what actually occurred in the building with the three villains. But I knew the hug was Marinette confirming all her kids were all alright, even if Damian didn’t consider himself as one.

Yet.

Chapter Text

The ghost of a man I’d known all my life laid motionless on a hospital bed. The beeping of the many monitors attached various places to his body and the small rise and fall of his chest, were the only indication of life.

Six months of being held hostage by a madman in the Caribbean had taken its toll. First with my mother’s life, and if the doctors were correct soon my father’s.

Looking down at him, I wasn’t sure how to feel or even really how I felt. He was my father by blood, but he’d never felt like one. More like a sponsor who occasionally checked in on his beneficiary. Making sure the money he provided was not being completely wasted, but always more or less disappointed by what he witnessed and never hesitating to make it known.

Either way, I supposed it didn’t change the fact, as a frequent fixture in my life, I should have been sad he was dying. But I wasn’t, nor was I relieved.

The feeling or rather lack of feeling was similar to watching a movie where something happens to the main character. There is a sadness, but you felt a level of detachment from it, like you can’t fully embrace it because the truth is you don’t really know the character. Perhaps given time or a final conclusion, I would finally feel something, anything, other than guilt for being the worse son because I didn’t.

The door to the hospital room opened but I didn’t turn to find out who entered, the familiar perfume was enough to know who it was. When her arms circled me from behind the chair, I was surprised to detect a hint of a second familiar cologne free from a second presence.

“Am I a bad person for not feeling anything about my mother’s death or my father’s condition?”

“A bad person? Absolutely not. You’re a victim of their neglect, no one gets to dictate how you feel about them.”

“Shouldn’t I feel something though?”

Marinette came around the chair to crouch down beside me, taking my hands in hers. “I don’t think your lacking feelings, Tim. I think maybe you’re experiencing emotions you don’t expect, so you can’t process how you’re really feeling…Want a story?”

Nodding my head, I looked forward to the possible distraction.

“When Adrien discovered that his father was Hawkmoth, he was naturally angry towards the man who’d held Paris emotional hostage for so many years.”

I looked down at my father, knowing there was no anger towards this man. There hadn’t been since I was really young, when the illusion he would become someone different than he’d always been, finally disappeared.

If male heirs were not a requirement in the upper crust of society, he and my mother would have refrained from having children. They met that expectation on their first try and then abandoned me to nannies, tutors and then myself as soon as my mother was healed from childbirth.

Father was a title for Jack Drake, not a role. I could fault him for that, but the truth was I didn’t

“But those were his feelings towards Hawkmoth and not a son towards his father. When the dust settled surrounding Hawkmoth’s death, Adrien had to deal with his feelings towards the man, not the supervillain. Like you, he was neglected by his father when his mother died, interactions were limited to when he needed to be manipulated, and while he was never hit…the threat always felt like it loomed. And like you, he relayed how he didn’t feel relief or sadness.”

Looking away from my father, I looked up at Marinette hoping my response was not too dissimilar to Adrien’s. That my reaction was not out of the norm and could be explained. Instead of looking at me as I’d expected, she was looking off into the room as if seeing a distant memory.

“It was disappointment,” she all but whispered. “Disappointment that he would never get the chance to have the affection he desired from his father. It wasn’t strong enough to lead to anger, because I think he’d come to accept even if his father had been saved he wouldn’t have likely changed without Adrien’s mother around. Still, it took a few months for that feeling to leave. Looking back now I’m not sure if it really ever left and that’s why he left me, because I was never going to be able to fill the void and he felt guilty for trying to use me to.”

Marinette very rarely talked about Adrien, and never about their relationship. Fortunately speaking of it now sounded more thoughtful with no obvious trace of longing in her words. Truthfully, I might have welcomed the distraction of a search and destroy mission had it been otherwise.

Thinking on her words I realized it wasn’t how I was feeling. I had zero desire for our relationship to change or even to have been different. Perhaps if you’d asked me years before, when a sad loner of a boy was isolated in a large manor or boarding schools, I would have said differently. Now, I’d been content, not necessarily happy, with the state of our relationship with no need or want for change.

When Marinette rose beside me and looked at the door, she signaled Bruce had entered the room quietly. Unlike Marinette, who hugged as soon as she knew there was a person in need of one, Bruce held his hands out a little awkwardly from his side in open invitation.

Without even thinking, I stood from my chair and threw my arms around his waist. What would have once been a very clumsy hug, was now a warm embrace, speaking of comfort, understanding, and even love. I sighed deeply, truly content. A feeling of being where I was meant to be washed over me, quieting the uncertainty.

A small hand ran through my hair, and I looked up to find Marinette smiling warmly from behind. A slight ting of sadness still framing her eyes.

Bruce stretched out his arms so he could look me in the eyes as he said, “they’re doing everything they can, but the damage is past the point of any known medical expertise. I’ve made sure they’ll keep him as comfortable as possible, but I’m afraid I can’t sugar coat it, Tim. His body is shutting down and I think you’re going to have to be prepared to say goodbye.”

Nodding my head, I looked back at the bed to view the man who always seemed to think himself above it all. Dying like the mortal he was.

“I’m sorry I can’t heal him Tim. If we’d caught him before he made it to the hospital, I might have been able to, but with the hospital knowing his condition it would result in too many questions.” Marinette spoke softly, almost as if she was unsure whether she wanted me to hear her or not.

“It’s okay. Saving his life wouldn’t really change anything other than letting him hear me say goodbye.”

Taking my expected place beside his bed, I grabbed Jack Drake’s hand thinking the physical contact would ensure he would actually hear or maybe feel what I was saying. “I forgive you for neglecting me for so many years, ensuring I knew I wasn’t your choice, not even your second. All the same, thank you. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. I wouldn’t have wanted more than I had. I wouldn’t have made the choices I have. So, thank you for not being a father so I could choose my own...I can’t be disappointed with how my life turned out because I’m happy. Happy with my chosen family and despite everything we’ve faced, everything we have yet to, I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Releasing his hand, lightly placing it back onto the bed, I backed away slowly, turning at the last moment with no intention of looking back ever again. “Goodbye, Mr. Drake.

With his hands resting over Marinette’s shoulders, Bruce embraced her from behind. Her own hands were covering his arms, looking at me with tears, refusing to wipe them even as they fell from her face.

Walking to them, I went straight for the hug she hadn’t even offered, but happily accepted. She’d been right, I was feeling things. Sadness for Jack Drake’s condition and Janet’s death, as much as anyone is sad about the unexpected death of someone they know.

But, as I took the hand Marinette offered, it became clear as day.

Jack and Janet Drake’s death didn’t alter my life in anyway aside from the press that would follow. We would walk away from the hospital and take the car to the place I’d called home for some time now. I’d eat dinner created with the upmost care and love from the man I’d come to consider my grandfather. Spend the rest of the evening beside my chosen father in front of the computer while working together to solve the latest case. Only to find myself asleep on my bed, with no clue how I got there, tucked under the comforter my chosen mom had made for me. Wake up at an ungodly hour due to a prank performed by Jason, that may or may not cause a room to catch on fire. Struggle to not kill Dick when he steals my coffee thinking my consumption to be an issue, still not realizing the lack of consumption is the bigger problem. Then, Mom would find me, producing two cups of the golden nectar I’d learned was an actual gift from a god—thank you Tikki—that we would consume away from the judgement of others. Only to spend the rest of the day training with Damian, who’d understand my desire to not talk about Jack and Janet, heavily critiquing my sparring technique as a form of bonding and distraction.

Then the next day would start. Things would change based on the needs of Gotham and the day, but the people I would spend the day with, the feelings I feel when I’m with them, would stay the same.

Seriously, life could not get much better.

Chapter Text

For the first ten years of my life, I thought myself content. Every moment was not necessarily happy, or free of things that a child should not know, but I accepted this reality because I was told it would allow me to become great. So despite the methods used to get me there, I truly believed I was well on my way to the title of the greatest leader the League of Assassins would ever have.

When Ra’s was killed, and my mother dropped me at my father’s doorstep, I was certain my chances for greatness were over. Banned from continuing my training, the feeling of being underappreciated and underestimated overwhelmed me. The truths I’d been raised to believe were ripped out from under my feet in one swift movement, and I suppose I was left feeling vulnerable with no clear direction my life was meant to take.

Thinking back on it now, I am unsure the exact moment my way of thinking changed. But as the counter for my time in Gotham ticked closer to the year mark, I came to realize I was only content before because I never knew there was a different way to live.

Not to mention content was no longer enough. Happy was better and shockingly—to no one more so than myself—it was how I would describe myself feeling while in Gotham.

For once, choices such as who or where I wanted to be, were no longer dictated but decided by me.

Mostly anyway.

For example, while I’d chosen to accompany Marinette to the manor’s gardens to sketch, I had not chosen the music. Personally, I felt a classical piece such as Handel’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, would be a better accompaniment to paint the image of a hummingbird taking nectar from a sorrel. My taste was ignored as Marinette was doing a commission for an artist known as Jagged Stone and therefore had his newest hit, Ripped Wings, on repeat.

Around the eighth time hearing it, I’d thought myself capable of expanding my musical palette, but by the fifteenth I knew better.

As I listened to the rocker sing about what was clearly a metaphor about Paris’s rebuilding post Hawkmoth, specifically how when the wings ripped away, dropped to the floor, the cost finally exposed, Marinette slammed her supplies down on her lap.

“Done.”

Putting down my own pencil, I looked over the finished piece on her sketchbook. “I will never understand how it is considered fashionable to pay for someone else to rip your clothing.”

“Normally, I would agree with you, especially since it would appear I am taking the theme of the song too literal by just ripping the fabric and then having fabric under it to represent the cost. But…” she flipped the page of her sketch book to the image displaying the back of the sketch. “I really wanted to show that even in all the negatives there is always a positive to be found.”

On the rear of the jacket, there were more artistically placed rips. Unlike the front where the fabric under them looked like destruction in the form of black and grey fabric, under these was what could only be described as a metamorphosis. A multicolored translucent fabric had a beautiful patterned fabric peeking through it. In short, it looked like beneath the damage was a cocoon, within it a beautiful butterfly. While Jagged’s song focused on some of the negative cost that came with the end of Hawkmoth’s reign, Marinette had looked at a positive, the Butterfly Miraculous waiting to be used for good once more.

“You’re work is exceptional, perhaps when you marry my father you should consider going public as MDC, maybe even rebranding to MW. Then others will recognize you for your abilities and accomplishments and not judge you wrongly for marrying for a fortune.”

It was honestly, though crass sounding, the biggest compliment I could think to give her. My personal blessing of sorts, welcoming her into the family if my father and her would simply attest to the existence of their relationship.

She choked before getting out, “Damian, I—”

Denial of the potential of a marriage between them was on the tip of her tongue I was sure, but she was interrupted before she could give it.

“Certainly, a nanny is a little excessive for an eleven-year-old.” Both Marinette and I turned, our bodies tensed with a willingness to fight from the unexpected presence. “But then again Bruce is well known for spending his money so frivolously on pretty but useless things.”

Verbally Marinette had no reaction to the obvious attempt to insult her, instead her eyes took in the woman before us with a slight curl of her lip.

“Marinette is not my nanny, which I’m sure you already know, Mother.” Not exactly the welcome I am sure my mother was expecting. But taking in the fact she appeared before me with a sheathed sword the feeling was mutual.

Barely noticeable, but to those who knew to look, her check hallowed as she sucked them in, upset at my less than respectful reply. “Sorry beloved. Truthfully, I could not put my finger down as to the role this woman plays. I chose the most appropriate description in my opinion. I could have gone with whore.”

As if I did not need a reminder as to where my behavior previously had come from, this thirty second engagement had reminded me. “You know her name mother, be respectful enough to call her by it and nothing more.”

“How would I know her name? This is the first time I’ve met her.”

The game of naivety was tiring and I chose to end it. “Why are you here?”

“Considering I had told you when I would return, I thought the reason rather obvious.” I glared at my mother in much the same fashion as I’d seen her do to others many times before. It was a look that read of my annoyance with her performance. Her smile dropped and I prepared myself for the news I’d been expecting to come many months before with the capture of Wilson. “It is done. Time for you to return home.”

“I am home, Mother.” I swallowed the lump in my throat from the shock at how fast and certain the words came from my mouth.

Placing my art supplies onto the grass, I stood up to look at my mother properly. I kept my face impassive, but wanted her to see my mind was made. Though, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that my mother would be easily dissuaded by my simple proclamation.

“Enough Damian, you know very well of where home is. Our flight leaves in an hour, enough time for you to say goodbye if you are so inclined to participate in such trivialities.”

To her credit, Marinette remained still beside me, allowing the battle between wills to play out between me and my mother. When I looked up at her, there was a hardness directed to the woman in front of her, shifting when she noticed my stare. As our eyes met a quick message was relayed, she will not take you against your will.

Afraid of the possibilities that could come from my action, I made note of how best to obtain the discarded practice blade Todd used against me the other night. It was not within arm’s reach, but the distance was close enough to collect as long as I had not just inadvertently broadcasted my intentions.

Grabbing Marinette’s hand, “there is only one goodbye I wish to make.”

My mother smiled happily in my directions, feeling victorious as I pulled Marinette towards the manor. Taking a risk by turning my back to one of the deadliest assassins in the world, I deadpanned, “Goodbye, Mother.”

Behind us it took a second but eventually there was the sound of a bitter laugh. “You will return with me, Damian. Or else.”

Stopping dead in my tracks, now only a few paces away from my target, I turned to look over my shoulder back to my mother. “Or else, what?”

“There can only be one heir to the Demon, Damian. If you do not return now, it will not be you. In which case I will have to have you removed from possible contention.”

On the outside it would appear I had no reaction to my mother’s threatening words, but as Marinette’s body flinched in a way that seemed similar to someone being shot, I too felt the lead imprint in my heart. The use of force against me to comply was expected, but to kill her only son?

Even I had never thought her capable.

My shocked state was broken when Marinette pulled on my arm, guiding me to stand behind her. “Leave Talia,” she said, pushing me away and stepping closer to my mother.

“You are more naïve than I had thought. Do you not see this sword?” Unsheathing her weapon, my mother ran it across her finger, nicking it with the blade to demonstrate its sharpness.

Wasting no more time, I lunged at the sword on the ground, throwing it at Marinette in an arch allowing her to easily grab it and swing it in a fashion that showed her experience with such weapons.

Pretending to contemplate her options, my mother circled Marinette as if playing a game. “You are not like the others Bruce has chosen to fill his bed. They are usually selfish, vapid, hungry for things they are undeserving of. At least you have courage, it is too bad it is overwhelmed by your stupidity. I am a master of this sword; you will last only seconds against me.” Turning her head in my direction she added, “come home and I will spare her, or you both shall die here.”

“You really should not speak so illy of yourself, but at least we can both admit Bruce use to lack standards. He is much more careful now about the type he allows near his children. You should leave, you’re not welcomed,” Marinette barked, stepping into a defensive position causing my mother to roll her eyes.

Clearly unable to contradict the words she’d set herself up to receive, my mother ignored Marinette and kept her eyes on me. “Damian, what is your answer?”

Coming to stand beside Marinette, I saw she was not happy to see me removing the distance between the one who was currently threatening my life. She should have learned over the last few months as Robin however, I never leave the side of those who fight for me or with me.

“I will stay. Fight with my brothers against the scum of Gotham and each other as required. Become the son my father sees me as. Learn from the guidance my mother—" I looked up at Marinette, smiling as softly as I could to reflect my meaning, “—imparts upon me.”

Unsure if the tightness in Talia’s throat was due to refusal, or the acknowledgement of another as my mother, I realized unsurprisingly, I didn’t care.

Her eye’s flicked to look out into the distance, before settling on me with indifference present in her gaze once more.

“So be it.”

Her sword immediately swung up; in a movement she probably thought would take Marinette by surprise. But, Marinette was a hero, perhaps not for as long as my mother had been an assassin, but still. Ladybug had faced what I was sure to be certain death more times as a teenager, than my mother ever would in her lifetime.

An assassin with a grudge would be child’s play for the hero.

Hopefully.

As if my thoughts were the hand that struck the match, the dominos began to fall. The speed at which it played out tricked me into believing I could stop it, reality being of course I could not. Marinette had kept up with my mother for some time, but Talia’s attacks were relentless. Determined to either tire her opponent, or have her slip up from her inferior training. When neither seemed to happen, mother growled in frustration, “who are you?”

The answer came from my father and brothers, the name Marinette filling the air as they ran from the manor. Unfortunately, the sudden appearance was a distraction that most would be unable to use against Marinette, but for Talia it was enough.

The heel of her boot smacked into Marinette’s thigh, a retractable blade present on the end when my mother removed it. The stumble that resulted would have been enough to allow for a final blow, but my mother did not take it. Instead, she turned to me plunging her sword forward to take me with the fatal strike instead.

Closing my eyes to my fate, my name yelled by four voices was the last I heard before the distinct sound of metal entering flesh. Only, the searing pain of a blade piercing my skin did not follow. Opening my eyes I saw Marinette’s body before me, the thick blade of my mother’s sword sticking out from her back.

Talia growled in frustration, her only opportunity to kill me unhindered by the men of my family unsuccessful. Pulling her sword free from Marinette, she turned ready to leave as the woman, I’d only realized today was more of a mother to me than my own, fell to her knees.

“No,” I screamed in anguish. With my body and Marinette’s discarded sword, I ensured Talia’s escape was thwarted until Todd and Grayson were upon her, wrestling her to the ground before Drake was able to strike her firmly across the back of her head.

Unconscious for the moment, our attention turned to our mother. Father had stopped her from falling onto the ground, his hand applying pressure to the wound. His emotions clouding his usual composure as he looked at who I knew to be the love of his life, dying in his arms.

In the distance I caught sight of Pennyworth, running as best as he could, in our direction with a first aid kit in hand. I dropped to my knees, moving my father’s hands to use the shirt I’d pulled off to apply pressure to both sides of her wound.

“Why?” was all I could manage through the tears I held back.

The smile she had was uncomfortable to receive considering the circumstances, it was too relaxed, free of worry and care. Too accepting of the fate she’d put herself in front of to receive. “She would hurt you over my dead body.”

“You’re not Ladybug you can’t undo this,” growled my father. The soft caress of her face, pushing away the hair that had fallen over her eyes was enough to relay he had not meant his words to be harsh.

Marinette’s laugh was cut short when she moaned out in pain. “Please, you don’t think I haven’t learned from trial and error where all my squishy parts are?”

“What?” Grayson barked through his tears, the absurdity of her statement catching us all off guard.

A finger jabbed at my hand, an attempt to point at the area she’d been stabbed.  “Her aim on Damian would have had her plunging the sword through his heart, our difference in height had it going through my stomach. While I’d likely bleed out if given enough time, Tikki’s residual power is going to heal me long before we have to worry.”

Lifting my hands, the evidence of her words was already obvious, a light pink glow emanating from under her skin.

“You stupid woman.” My father berated, kissing her forehead with a smile on his face. “You beautiful,” kiss upon her cheek, “fantastic,” kiss upon her lips, “but stupid woman.”

“Hey! No need for name calling.” She smiled, very lightly smacking his shoulder.

“What would I have done without you?”

“You’d be fine, it’s the boys I’d worry about,” she joked only for my father to quiet her by pressing his lips down upon hers.

The kiss that followed was not one from those inexperienced with the other. Clearly, Marinette was healed enough as she rose up against the downward pressure of my hand upon her stomach. For the moment the pair forgot their children were witnessing the open gesture of affection.

Out of respect, and discomfort, I turned away to look at my brothers and Pennyworth, who’d finally made his way over. They had not had the same thought of privacy as they looked on smiling. Pennyworth and Drake were the first to turn away, the former smacking the others light across their heads to draw their attention away. Grayson looked sheepish, but Todd’s smile widened.

When the moment still refused to end, Todd’s wolf whistle finally dragged the pair apart, though their gaze upon each other did not faulter. The moment truly ending when Talia started to stir on the ground.

“What are we going to do with her?” Todd asked.

“It is my understanding as guardian you are able to remove memories?” I inquired.

“Wait you know she’s Ladybug?” Grayson looked shocked, causing me to roll my eyes.

“I was once told to listen for what is said instead of what I want to hear. It has been amazing the things this family says if anyone cares to listen.”

Marinette giggled, pulling me into a shared embrace with my father, “I knew you’d figured it out.”

“Yes, well… all I had to do was look.”

The silence that followed was relaxed, each of us taking a second to breathe in the happiness present in the air. Until it was broken again by a low moan coming from Talia.

“Why did you ask about removing memories?” Todd dragged the conversation back to my point.

“It’s more nuanced than that. I can’t simply remove her memory of today’s events. It doesn’t work that way.” Marinette went ahead and answered what she thought to be the point of my question.

“But you were able to remove all memories pertaining to Bruce Wayne and Batman from Catwoman?” Marinette nodded her head, narrowing her eyes in question. “I wish for you to remove Talia’s memories of me.”

“But that’s your mother?” The disbelief in Drake’s voice sounded forced, as if the response was a requirement and not one he believed.

“No. A mother does not try to stab her son through his heart, a mother takes the sword for her son. I have no intention of ever returning to the League, so let her take the role she has always coveted. I am here, where I wish to be, with the only ones I consider family.”

There was a three-way tie as to who appeared the most emotional from my statement, Pennyworth, Grayson, or Marinette, each fighting to maintain their composure. It was slightly shocking for it to my father who pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.

“Love you,” he stated for all to hear.

Chapter Text

Despite the common belief that I neither acknowledge nor was I unrepentant of my mistakes, the truth was far from that. Each mistake I made sat heavily, consumed more time in my thoughts than most would give to similar, and the guilt built to where I often felt choked by it. I admit I worked hard to never show this, acting instead with the mentality of keep moving forward, don’t look behind.

For years it worked for me. It didn’t matter the cost to my personal life, Batman had to be bigger than Bruce. Batman had to move past his own mistakes to come back stronger, ready for the next trial, which there always was one. It wasn’t until I lost almost everything that I could ever want and very well need, that I realized how my perceived laissez faire attitude truly cost not only myself, but those around me.

How I was ever forgiven is beyond me. How perfection could look and somehow find me deserving of another chance when I found myself anything but. Yet, somehow, someway, and sooner than I could have ever hoped, my family was whole again.

I was determined to keep it that way.

With Talia stirring on the ground beside us, Marinette reluctantly pulled away.

“Are you sure?’ she asked Damian, “there is no going back once I’ve performed the magic.”

Damian curtly nodded, anything more would be reflective of a certain level of uncertainty.

Damian turned from his mother, and I pulled him into my arms. The tension present in most of his embraces melted away almost immediately. The idea of giving up on his mother I knew wasn’t an easy one. At one point in my life, I’d thought I would be with the same woman, but as my son just learned, she wasn’t the kind to love as people needed. Too selfish, too caught up in desires counter to what would be best for those around her and even herself. Accepting the truth likely knocked her off the pedestal he’d built in his head, but it was needed for him to move forward.

As the spell was performed, I kept Damian in my arms, turned away from the woman who gave him a portion of her DNA, but nothing more. I’m not sure what the hug did for him exactly, but I felt like it reminded him that as he was letting Talia go something better was embracing him. With Marinette by my side, I knew that was a fact, not simply a hope.

A familiar pink and teal light filtered in my peripheral, causing me to look over my shoulder to see what was happening. Ladybug merged with the horse miraculous was opening a portal, on the other side was a room that was familiar enough it had to be in Nanda Parabat.

The wind captured Ladybug’s hair as she looked on, the sight was…beautiful. More than any I’d ever seen before. Even the one time a rainbow seemed to christen the sky after the Justice League defeated a horde of aliens in a small town in Russia. I knew a lot of good people, part of being friends with selfless heroes, but they didn’t compare to her. Beauty was present inside and out, shining like a beacon for others to swarm to. Yet among the many arms begging to simply touch her light, she reached out and grasped my hand despite being unworthy.

“Do you want to say goodbye?” Marinette asked my youngest son.

“I already have,” he stated, their eyes meeting to speak of an event the rest of us had not been privy too.

As if permission, Richard, and Jason basically threw Talia over the threshold of the portal. I could have said something about the treatment, but even I felt her deserving for stabbing the love of my life and threatening our son.

Ours, being Marinette’s and mine.

The portal disappeared and with it the last of the tension still lingering in the air. Marinette dropped her transformations and excused her kwamis to fly into the manor for snacks to recharge. Alfred’s kwami, Ruffus, followed closely behind. The discovery of that little secret almost as groundbreaking and obvious as Marinette’s own.

The boys wasted no time, slamming their bodies into Marinette’s petite one. Each trying to get their hand on her for even a second to ensure she wasn’t a mirage, and she was truly healed from the sword that had been stabbed into her body. Her ability to remain standing despite the tower of men ramming into her was a testament to the years of working as a superhero and her healed self.

It wasn’t the perfect time, but it was the perfect moment. We’d only been back together for a couple months, and had not officially come out to ensure the boys wouldn’t be impacted if our relationship somehow collapsed again. But it would be naïve to believe that after our little display only moments before that they weren’t at least in part suspicious of our behavior. And if there was one thing I knew with certainty it was that souring wasn’t an option, not having her in my life, our lives, would be a death sentence for all.

So, while it might have been jumping the gun a little, there was no doubt this would be the end result, whether I took the chance now, a month from now, or even a year.

Slowly, as to not immediately draw attention upon myself, I lowered down to one knee. I pulled the small box that had been waiting in my pocket since around the time I adopted Jason from my pants, opening it so the contents were visible to the little huddle.

Embarrassingly, I waited on the single knee for anyone, other than Alfred who was too dignified to join the dog pile, to notice. If not for the soft grass below me, my knee would have been protesting the position well before Jason finally shifted enough to note an absence from the pile. His eyes blew comically large as he took me in, pulling back as if on a loaded spring when he processed what was happening.

The shift was instantaneous as the rest of the group noticed Jason’s behavior, each peeling away to search for the cause. Richard was the next to notice and the squeal that left his mouth was more animalistic than human. With the noise came Tim’s eyes, who blew open like Jason’s, but included a smile with the shock. Damian maintained an air of indifference, as if he was expecting the event, the small lift to the corner of his lips was enough to let me know he approved.

Marinette was the last to respond, smiling at the diamond ring, before turning back to the boys. Her smile dropped and her head whipped back to look at the solitaire as if not believing her eyes the first time. The processors in her brain seemed to take a couple of seconds to compute what she was looking at.

“Marinette—”

“Wait, are you guys even dating?” Richard interrupted.

The tension that came from waiting for an answer to the unspoken question immediately left my body, causing my arms to drop to my side and look at my oldest son in exasperation. I didn’t have to say anything though as Jason already took the liberty.

“Really, Dickhead. You’re always complaining about others ruining their moments…”

“In his defense, it seems like quite the jump to go from not dating to asking for her hand in marriage.” Tim inserted as if it was a clinical fact.

Damian’s sigh reflected the one I had just done internally. “Really, are you all so idiotic you did not realize they have been sneaking around for some time like some prepubescent teenagers?”

A pause, as the boys seemed to think about Damian’s words.

“Oh. My. Gah. I did catch you guys at Marinette’s apartment. I thought the kwami’s were being a little too obvious in their chaos. And that time I walked in your office. And…eww, my dorm room.”

“All those times they went off comms,” Tim looked around as if inquiring the rest of the group for confirmation. A quick look between them and you could see the shivers of disgust that went through their bodies.

Without a mirror I couldn’t be sure, but I was fairly certain at that point I was the same cherry red as Marinette, all but verbally confirming their assumptions.

“Can you boys please be quiet,” Marinette squeaked through her fingers.

The boys stiffened as if an invisible zipper shut their mouths and lazzo tied their arms to their sides.

For what felt like several minutes, the lawn was quiet.

“Master Bruce, I believe this is where you start.”

Alfred’s words snapped me into remembering I wasn’t here to listen to my son’s bicker about my love life, but to utter the words I’d practiced in my mirror more times than I will ever admit.

“Marinette, since my parent’s death I’ve struggled to find who I am. I thought Batman was the answer, but he was just a persona I happily adopted to cover how lost in the world I was. And Brucie, I’d convinced myself he was created as a cover for Batman so no one would suspect me. But when you came, I realized I’d created a character with all of the worst attributes I could think of, so when I was inevitably rejected by people, I could blame it on the persona and not the fact I was broken.”

Marinette broke away from the boys and crawled on her knees to remove the distance between us. She said nothing as she cupped my face, ignoring the now closed box, her eyes never shied away from mine even as tears began to fill them.

“With you I’ve never felt broken, or at least not past the point of being able to be fixed. When you came to Gotham you began the process of healing me by giving me the one thing I needed. A family.” She glanced back to look at my eldest son, “no, I didn’t gain a family when I took in Richard, he only added to it. Whether you knew it or not, you became family the moment you decided to be a part of my life.”

I swallowed the volley of tears that threatened to fall. “I’d spent so much time trying to find who I was, and it didn’t take long for you to make me see who I could be. I can never risk losing you again, I can never lose this family. So please do the only thing I think we have left to do. Make it official by marrying me and adopting my children. Because for the last few months you’ve already been my wife and for last few years their mother.”

One final steadying breath before I lifted the ring back towards her.

“Marry me, Marinette. It won’t make me the happiest man on Earth because I already am. I just want the rest of the world to know why.”

Chapter Text

With the final breakfast item placed on the table I looked out at my family, signaling with a wave of my hand their ability to begin. Naturally it was the active kwamis who launched themselves at the table first, quicker than any human hands they grabbed their items before settling down in the alcoves they’d claimed and made their own. The humans at the table were only slightly more civilized as they filled their plates, but it was something at least.

From my seat at the opposite end of the table to Bruce, I watched my family happily. A rare occasion as their various obligations often kept them from eating meals all together.

In truth however, over the last few weeks it had become more a common scene, as none wanted to stray too far from the manor even for their nightly patrols. One might think the city was suffering due to their lack of attention, but fortunately the criminals the family happened upon seemed to spread the rumor that the Bats were a little less forgiven as of late, meaning crime was down. At least those committed by the non-supervillain types.

Fortunately, Tim’s ‘friend’ Conner, had agreed to remain in the manor for the time being and kept the more obtuse rogues from wishing to exercise outside of their homes for the time being.

If only Gotham knew the reason they were sleeping better at night.

From the corner my view I noticed Marinette’s plate remain as it been when Bruce had laid several breakfast items upon it. The fork in her hand, did a decent job of moving the eggs around to make them appear eaten, but in truth they were only disturbed. It would not have been a red flag, as her appetite seemed to come and go as of late, if not for the fact she was shifting in discomfort within her chair, pulling her face slightly from pain.

The act was barely noticeable, as it lasted for under a minute before she had, by my count, six minutes before the pain returned. I’d only been privy to such pains once before, but it was unmistakable. Oddly, my suspicions were confirmed when a blue portal opened just above the dining room table and Bunnix jumped down, knocking my perfectly made breakfast spread to the floor.

“Oh yeah,” she mimicked as she punched down at the table while dropping her transformation.

The act only received praise from Master Jason, who’d high-fived the woman they’d adopted as their aunt, as if it were the coolest entrance ever made.

“The front door would have sufficed, Ms. Alix,” my words lectured, while my eyes scanned the mess upon the floor.

“Yes, this seems a little over the top even for you,” Damian added.

The more eccentric behavior was something we’d grown accustomed to as her appearance in the manor became more frequent. I suppose dabbling in the timestream had to have some kind of effect on a person, initially one would think it would be maturity, but I’m starting to believe she acts the opposite because of the things she’s seen.

“I’m competing for best entrance today, so I had to go over the top,” she spoke as if her meaning was clear.

It was, in fact, as all eyes went to Marinette, who struggled to hide her discomfort from not only the pain she was still in, but from becoming the center of attention.

The rabbit kwami flew from Alix’s shoulder, to come right in front of Marinette’s face. “It is time for new beginnings, or is it time for something new, or time for the end of what we knew?”

“Mari?” There was a strain present in Master Bruce’s voice, a panic settled upon his face. Clearly not mentally prepared like so many before him for what was to come.

“I’ve been feeling them since this morning, they’re getting closer together and are more intense.”

Bruce was undeniably turning a shade of white. Four children, yet the idea of a baby frightened him to no end. If the criminals and evil masterminds of the world were aware of this great weakness of Batman’s, we might be doomed.

“Should we head to the hospital?” I suggested taking charge when it appeared no one else might.

“Too late for that I’m afraid,” Alix proclaimed jumping down casually as if the news was expected, which considering the source was fair enough.

When all eyes seemed to settle upon her, knowing the drive was only twenty minutes with traffic, she explained. “Yeah, there is going to be an accident that blocks the tunnel for the next hour and considering the little one is ready to make their debut…it’s either here in the comfort of your own home or in the car.”

“No one here has delivered a baby before, Alix.” Marinette growled through another contraction.  

“Not technically true. I didn’t come from the office.”

“You delivered the baby in another timeline?” Tim ever the astute one concluded quicker than the rest.

“Not exactly,” Alix looked only momentarily sheepish, “I watched a different timeline that had me deliver the baby.”

“Watching a child be born does not make you an expert,” Marinette cried through a contraction.

“True, but in the other timeline I’d never delivered a baby before either. I just happened to show up when Marinette decided to go to the hospital and of course Brucie was of no help, so I delivered the baby in the car.”

Taking it all in stride, pretending to not like being a part of the drama, Jason picked up a scone pulling it apart before plopping a piece in his mouth. “If you came from your burrow, why didn’t you come here sooner so she could make it to the hospital in time?”

“Because she wants to deliver the baby,” Damian deadpanned.

“It’s not that I want to, just don’t want to change the timeline.” Several eyes looked at her incredulously, my own included. Typical of the small Parisian, she didn’t allow it to affect her. “I don’t see how letting her deliver at home would change the future too much, other than allowing her some comfort the car didn’t afford her.”

“I would really like to not deliver in a car.” Marinette whined, looking at Bruce as if he was the one with the ability to make it so.

“I shall have a bed prepared; my understanding is it is quite messy,” I delivered flatly, not giving away the excitement I felt at having another Wayne born in the manor, Bruce being the last.

Alix clapped her hands, before stage whispering conspiratorially behind her hand to me, “another reason is to save the car, I didn’t watch to see if the blood came out of the seats.”

“B-bl-blood?” Dick turned a little green.

“Among other bodily fluids Dickiebird,” Jason added, a smile upon his face for adding to the discomfort of his older brother.

“Boys, please.” Bruce’s words were not stern as if trying to get them to maintain a proper decorum, but whining, as if trying to beg the boys to stop scaring him.

Never in his adult life have I ever seen Master Bruce look like such a lost doe. Usually his emotions, particularly those reflecting his hold on a situation were closed off to outside observers. But the idea of becoming a father was daunting for the Dark Knight. Both the actual childbirth and rearing of said infant.

It wouldn’t be glee, but there would be something to manifest upon witnessing each of my charges as they are confronted by their first blowout. While I had no intension of holding Marinette to her promise I would refrain from participating in changing diapers for the first month just to behold the impending humor.

“Well let’s get this show on the road, her water is going to break in…” looking down at her watch, Alix made a face at the time she saw, “now!”

Marinette stood up from her chair as if it were suddenly on fire. The predicted water began to drip down from her legs onto the wood floor beneath. As if it were the blood previously talked about, the boys raced around the table as if chickens with their heads cut off, no clear direction for their efforts.

Alix watched with a smile upon her face, clearly loving the chaos she was witnessing. Eventually she took pity on Marinette, who seemed too overwhelmed and unsure of what to do with herself. “Alfred, I am afraid we will need that room sooner rather than later. With the parameters being slightly different I can’t be sure if we will be working within the same time frame. Assuming it is, we only have about 15 minutes to get ready.”

“Mistress Alix, I am not sure I will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Is anyone ever really ready for a baby, Alfred. All we need is a bed, wet towels, a blanket, and the doctor to be on his way,” Alix stated, clearly feeling that watching the delivery of a baby once, had prepared her for this moment more than anyone else believed it did.

“Doctors on his way, should be her in twenty minutes.” Barbara spoke as she ended a call on her cellphone. “But if there is an accident like you said....”

“Could always just fly her to the hospital.” Conner offered.

“Because that wouldn’t raise some eyebrows. Seeing Superboy flying Bruce Wayne’s wife to the hospital.” Tim deadpanned.

“What? It’s not like with his kind of money people wouldn’t assume he’d have some way to make it happen. I bet they wouldn’t even bat an eyelid if she came riding in the Batmobile.” Jason snarked.

“I believe Master Bruce would like to be present for the birth and not as Batman,” I input before the idea was seriously entertained.

“If nothing else, I’ve helped deliver a calf on the farm.”

Kneading the bridge of his nose as if frustrated, Tim’ s smile beneath his hand betraying he found the statement funny. “Kon, I’m not sure it’s the same.”

“I’ve got this,” Alix said confidently, walking over to Marinette who was still frozen to her spot, eyes glued to the small puddle of water at her feet. “Babs as the only other woman in this house, I’m sure Marinette would prefer you to be in the room if that’s alright. I doubt Bruce will be of much help this time either.”

Turning to Bruce, who’d come to stand at the indignation, Alix added, “not laying fault on you. It’s a big deal to watch your child being born, your focus will be elsewhere.”

Alix walked away without another word, guiding Marinette by her arm towards the guest wing. The boys made to follow but I immediately pointed in the direction of the living room before quickly excusing myself to get the required items for the birth.

Knocking on the door of the room I figured they settled upon, it opened to find Marinette upon the bed, Bruce laying behind her rubbing her shoulders, as the small red kwami seemed to be in intense negotiations with her holder. From the look of dejection, Marinette was not successful in asking for some form of pain management.

The towels I’d grabbed were left with Barbara and instructions to call if anything else was required before I quickly vacated the room. I’d seen a lot of things during my life, particularly as a medic, but childbirth was not one of them. In truth, now was not the time I wished to change that fact; not to mention I’d no interest in viewing Marinette in such a compromising position.

In the living room I was met by raised voices and not only those belonging to the boys. No doubt Plagg had been able to manipulate one of them to release the rest of the kwami’s so they could welcome their guardian’s child into the world.

Admittedly it was an unprecedented moment, never before had a guardian had a child, really anyone in the order as they lived their lives similarly to monks.

Much to Bruce’s horror, Wayzz and Tikki suspected that there may be some residual magic given to the baby as Marinette herself had some, and the fact she was wearing several during conception.  The amount—if any—and the kind were greatly debated, many of the kwami’s believing some of their own would be present due to the frequency in which Marinette used them.

“Obviously if he’s been gifted by our magic he should have a name with double letters, it’s tradition.”

“But he will be human you cretin.”

“Kah-wah-me, kwami, not cretin. You, homo sapiens,” Plagg hissed at Damian.

“I still vote for Lucas, a nod to where he was made.” Tim interjected quickly before Damian devised a way to injure the cat god.

For the future Wayne there was no question of where he was conceived, as the two-month honeymoon to Cabo San Lucas was cut short when Marinette was forced to come home due to her hyperemesis gravidarum.

“Grandpa Jagged already told you Lucas was too close to Luka and there could only be one in the family,” Tim delivered.

“Didn’t know they were letting you name the baby or that it was a boy.” Kon commented out into the room.

“They are not Master Conner, but it has not stopped the boys from trying.”

“Marinette didn’t want to find out the sex of the baby, but Bruce bribed Clark into telling him.” Dick quickly stated, not hesitating to bring the conversation back to the name debate. “Anyway, we all know he will be named Thomas after their fathers, it would make the most sense.”

“It’s too obvious and boring. Plus, we know he’d end up with a nickname and Tom is too close to Tim,” the bearer of said name lamented.

“Naming our brother after two great men is not boring, it is something dignified families do to honor those who did great things for their families, which both Thomases have done. Still, I believe any of the names I included on the list I submitted for Mom’s consideration would meet all of our requirements.” The smile upon Damian’s face was slightly smug, certain one of his names would be selected.

“Absa-fuckin-lutely not.” Jason growled, earning my protest against the language. “Ceasar is not a name our younger brother should be cursed with.”

“It was only one of the names I suggested. But Julius Ceasar was one of the finest military leaders, it would be an honor to be named after such a legendary man.”

“Legendary for being stabbed in the back.” Jason joked raising his hand for a high-five from Kon. “If we are going for famous figures, perhaps Fitzwilliam or Heathcliff should be contenders.”

Gagging could be heard from all corners of the room, even the kwamis participating.

“We’re looking for names from this century.” Plagg cackled, as if he was knowledgeable on the topic.

“Boy’s there is no need. While your input was likely considered, the choice is ultimately up to your parents.” I cut in. “Now go and wash your hands. When your father brings the baby, you will not be permitted to hold him without your hands being clean.”

The boys headed towards the door to comply with my orders when a young cry interrupted the silence. Dick reached out to the two bodies beside him as he stopped, grabbing hold to the closest body part, which just happened to be Damian’s shoulder and Jason’s bicep. There was no noise in the room as we all waited with bated breath for another cry to confirm what we’d suspected.

Not a couple seconds later we were rewarded with even more crying, constant now as the young master tested out his lungs.

“Kon, run up to my room and grab the hand sanitizer, there’s no time for hand washing,” Tim ordered the Kryptonian.

Before I had time to advise him otherwise the boy was gone and back with a large bottle in tow.

“That won’t be necessary, Master Conner. It will likely be a few minutes before the boys are called in, affording them the opportunity to properly wash their hands.” I looked pointedly at Tim; no more words necessary to express that there would be no arguments.

Begrudgingly they moved towards the closest bathroom. The moment they realized they were not moving alone, they made it a mad dash, filled with elbows and hip checks to ensure they were first to meet my requirement.

Of course, while I did believe in washing one’s hands, my intensions were not entirely pure. Moving quickly to the abandoned hand sanitizer, I greedily pumped the liquid until it was overflowing. Proceeding to lather it not only on my hands but up my arms as well, as I moved towards the room I’d left only minutes before.

The door suddenly swung open, and a disheveled Bruce stood in the door frame. His hair was standing as tall as his cut would allow, showing his hands had been run through it enough times for the grease to build into a gel. His shirt was covered in something I did not want to take the time to analyze, the result of likely being the first to hold the baby.

Despite his state, there was a large smile plastered across his face that could only belong to a father.

“Where are the boys?”

“Present.” Tim answered as he slid across the floor of the hallway, his brothers close at hand, while Kon apparently had chosen to remain elsewhere.

Bruce pulled back from the door, his smile brightening even more as he took in the sight of his boy as their heads moved to look past the frame towards the bed that held their mother and newest brother. I walked forward to unblock the passage choosing to stand beside Alix and Barbara as they stood off to the side to watch the moment. Only for Marinette to motion me to the other side of the bed.

In her arms was a small bundle wrapped in the baby blanket I’d saved from the attic that once belonged to Master Bruce. A soft coo could be heard, when Marinette’s finger pushed back the yellow fabric to expose the most divine face known to man. A whisp of black covered its tiny head, skin on the paler side like his mother, and when his eyes opened they were the deepest blues I’d ever seen, not quite those of Bruce or Marinette’s.

Not that one could properly look at them, as like the rest of the Wayne men, he only had eyes for his mother.

Smiling down at the babe in her arms, Marinette then looked up and beamed at her older children. “Meet your sister, boys.”

Looking at their faces upon realizing it was a girl, there was only one truth to be known.

They were her boys.