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«Bruce Wayne's son dies in terrorist attack.»
«Gotham's heart in mourning: Jason Todd-Wayne passes away under strange circumstances in Ethiopia.»
«...kidnapping and torture...»
All the newspapers were talking about the same thing.
And yet, Natalia thought it must be a bad joke. A situation misinterpreted by the media, who wanted to do as much damage as possible. Nothing they talked about in the news was even a shred of truth.
In spite of this, her heart did not stop beating rapidly as if she was going to have a heart attack. Her lungs stopped working properly. The voice of her consciousness quieted, slowly, until it left an emptiness that was the same as that which plagued the roads of Gotham at this hour. Six hours after the funeral. A funeral that Natalia was sure must have been a lie to scare off the media. She was sure that when she arrived at the mansion, she would find Jason asleep in his little bed, under the glowing stars on the ceiling.
Except that when she knocked on the door, she was greeted by silence, and finally, darkness.
"Miss Natalia..."
Alfred had aged so many years in the last few days. The dark circles under his eyes reached the floor, and even his black clothes were wrinkled.
"No."
"Miss..."
"No," she quieted that tone of voice that was killing her inside, "where is he?"
Because she refused, and would always refuse to accept something like this.
"Alfred," she called again, her trembling hands threatening to grab the first thing she saw and throw it to the ground, "tell me where he is. Where's my baby?"
Tears welled in the eyes of the older man in front of her, an older man who had probably experienced hundreds of losses in his lifetime. A veteran of grief who was slowly beginning to crumble under the pressure of an agonizing environment that sought to drown them all.
Natalia was not going to let it happen.
"Where is Bruce?" She changed tactics once the boy's name was heavy on her tongue, and without waiting for permission, she made her way into the manor. "Bruce, Batman, where are you?!"
The darkness, now permanent, hung over them like a veil of mourning that Natalia was unable to understand. Because of all the people in Gotham that existed, the chances of her Jason Todd going down that path didn't make sense. And if it didn't make sense, then Bruce had to be involved. Somehow. A figure came down the elegant spiral staircase swiftly.
"Nocturna..."
He was there.
Bruce was there, still dressed in the same suit he'd seen in the papers used for Jason's funeral, except the tie looked disheveled with the rest of the clothes. And his face...
Oh. His face.
Natalia stopped, an invisible weight gripping her ankles and preventing her from continuing. To ask for explanations. To do something other than stare at Bruce's exhausted expression, who like a flower stuck between the pages of a book did not wish to move beyond the last step of the stairs. He didn't dare go down, and she, anchored to memories that were beginning to drown her, couldn't come closer either for fear that this would become real.
"What have you done?"
"Natalia."
"Why did you pretend all this!?" Finally, she managed to cross the last meters that separated them, elegance be damned. "Where is he!?"
"Natalia, Jason is dead."
And those words hit her like a pitcher of cold water, or a pot of boiling water. Little by little it tore at every inch of her skin. She swore she had never felt such pain until now, that Bruce's expression was warping into one of understanding. Maybe he was only now realizing that Jason wasn't coming back. Maybe Natalia didn't care what Bruce or Alfred thought of her as she collapsed to the floor, a scream of horror tearing from her throat.
"Master Bruce…"
"I got this, Alfred, it's okay."
Jason was alive. He had to be alive. He hadn't graduated yet. He hadn't yet let Natalia go with him to pick out the best suit in Gotham to be handed his diploma.
Bruce was lying.
"Natalia." Heavy hands rested on her shoulders, pressing against her goosebumps. "Jason passed away a couple of days ago in Ethiopia. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." That tone of voice. The same one she'd heard from Bruce so many times in the past, when he didn't want to let his emotions show through his words. "I'm sorry."
It was a nightmare.
A nightmare that Natalia was not able to get out of.
She collapsed, with a small, innocent face in her mind, with a piece of her soul snatched away by a cruel destiny. The poems would never be recited again, and the stars decided that night to shine a little brighter in honor of the one who had joined them.
However, none of them would be more precious than Jason's eyes, whose color she would never forget.
No matter how many years passed since his death, Natalia did not forget.
It was a constant pain that would not go away. The night sky would never be the same since Jason's departure, and his absence was beginning to be felt among the rogues. They wondered where the little shadow that accompanied Batman almost every night had gone, the one with the silver tongue who wasn't afraid to laugh at them to their faces.
Of course, it wasn't the only thing that changed. Batman did too, driven by mourning, as criminals began to arrive at the hospitals with more injuries than usual. And though Natalia thought about intervening at some point, shaking Bruce by the shoulders to bring him to his senses, she found it would do no good. Because like her, he had lost someone so important to him that he was going to make sure everyone understood the same pain.
So she did nothing.
Until, again, a small shadow followed Batman night after night.
«...The hope of the city returns...»
It wasn't his Jason. It wasn't the boy who slept in the moon every night, far from that coffin in which his body had been left. And yet, Natalia's heart would turn over when the light hit the face of the new bird in a certain way that the eyes resembled the precious sapphires of her beloved little boy. For a few moments, she let herself be carried away by the premise that he had once again fly draped in the blanket of stars over Gotham.
But it wasn't him. Natalia was never good at hiding her opinions to herself.
"Nocturna..."
She closed her eyes, as if with that option she could turn back and prevent another little bird from loving the wind in his face too much to not be afraid of hurtling towards the ground. Batman's voice had not changed.
Carefully, she turned around.
Just as Batman's voice hadn't changed over the years, neither had his posture around her. On edge. Unsure if Natalia's presence would be a misfortune, or on the contrary, a blessing he rarely enjoyed. In these moments, she did not wish to be either, but something completely different from what was written in the script of destiny. The new boy, dressed in a new suit and a big "R" that glowed in the dark of the night, looked at her with curious eyes.
"Why?"
That was all she said.
Batman's expression hardened, jaw locked, fists clenched.
"The city needs Robin."
"Then let it burn." She replied, almost interrupting the vigilante in front of her. "There are still people mourning a boy they didn't know personally."
Because Natalia watched. She saw a frown on Gordon's face that wasn't there before, his gaze lingering on his cigarettes for a few moments too long as if remembering something, before continuing onward. Little things she sensed around the city: murals that were renewed every night. Sex workers looking for a single glimpse of a yellow cape, as they froze on street corners in the cold winter.
"We can't let mourning control us." Batman replied.
"Is that something you tell yourself to sleep at night?"
There were so many things Natalia wanted to forgive, if something in her mind would let her. To tell Bruce to his face that it wasn't his fault, that fate was cruel and uncertain, and that with every step they had to remember that it was for a child playing with a grapple in the sky. Resentment, however, was eating her up inside, so intensely that the desire to embrace the father of her little heart was crushed to dust as soon as it appeared.
Then, the new Robin slowly came out of hiding in Batman's cape to approach her.
“My name is Tim," the little bird whispered, as if it were the biggest secret in the universe, as he tried to look taller by squaring his shoulders, "and I promise you, Miss Nocturna, I'm not here to supplant the previous Robin. I would like to carry on his legacy, just as he carried on the legacy of the one before him, and let Gotham know that his spirit lives on."
The boy had not even been at Batman's side for a week and already talked like him. Natalia held back the urge to sigh, instead, kneeling before Tim to tuck an unruly lock of black hair behind his ear.
"I'm sorry Batman lied to you saying that you can handle this, Robin."
Said man looked away.
"Oh, Batman didn't tell me anything." For a few moments, Robin looked embarrassed, though Natalia had trouble understanding if it was because of his words or because of the gentle touch of a motherly hand. "I promise. I... I wanted to do this. For him. For you."
Natalia pressed her black lips into a thin line, but dared not interrupt the words of Tim, a boy who had no evil in his bones, and who would sooner or later discover the darkness that gnawed at Gotham from deep within its soul. She saw innocent eyes for the last time, and wondered how long it would take for the universe to steal the sparkle in them to gift it to the heavens.
The last time she saw Dick Grayson, it was while visiting Jason's grave on the twenty-fifth of December.
The flowers had been freshly changed, the new ones glowing with the charm of the stars and the moonlight on them, beautifying their petals in colors that Natalia would have doubted existed at any other time. There, under the cemetery lamp post, stood Dick, who with a single glance told her not to stop him in whatever it was he was going to do.
Days later, Bruce managed to stop him just short before he succeeded in murdering the Joker.
The hands of someone like Dick deserved to be clean, Natalia would think months later, when her anger at herself for telling Bruce to stop his eldest son dissipated. He was still young, barely an adult who already had too many responsibilities on his shoulders. An entire city to protect. If anyone should make that monster pay for his sins, it wouldn't be Nightwing, no matter how much she appreciated the feral child.
Now, looking at him, his eyes were not so tired.
"Thanks for coming." Dick mumbled, next to Natalia's ear as he hugged her with shattering strength. "I didn't know if you were busy..."
"Not for you, sweet child."
The address of the coffee shop that came in the message sent by an unknown number was not far from the small apartment Natalia had bought in Crime Alley after everything that had happened, and when she arrived, she didn't have to be very smart to understand that they really needed the clientele. Only one older woman worked there, who walked at a hurried pace to make her tea and Dick's coffee with an excessive amount of sugar.
Dick had a small smile that bordered on nostalgia.
"I used to come here with Jason sometimes. He showed it to me." As time went on, talking about Jason in the past tense became easier, but no less tiresome. "He always ordered the apple pie."
So, it made sense why there were angel wings next to the apple pie on the menu. No one, not even the people of Crime Alley, forgot someone as important as Jason Todd-Wayne Knight. Their child would always be the brightest star in the universe: beautiful and unattainable.
"How's your brother, Dick?"
The man froze.
"...You know?"
“Since a couple of days ago." Natalia said, her eyes still on that decoration on the menu. Dick's expression would probably be full of doubt, so she hastened to reassure him. "I understand his parents weren't too good. It's a relief that Bruce got custody of Timothy."
"Aren't you... angry?"
Though many might say otherwise, even Bruce himself at times, Natalia didn't consider herself a monster. She held no grudges for a child who had given everything in his power to save an adult from his own mind, instead of studying or playing the videogames Jason loved so much. Tim needed a father, someone who would set limits but also love him unconditionally.
"No."
"Oh." For a few moments, Dick didn't know what to say. "He's doing... well. I think he passed the last exam he had."
"That's good. He's a smart boy."
Jason hadn't finished high school. His promotion class honored him upon graduation, the picture of the boy with a beautiful smile on his face standing in one of the front rows. Alfred picked up the diploma. Bruce didn't show up for the ceremony, and Natalia didn't blame him for it, even though she wanted to yell at him.
The tea in front of her tasted like ash.
"...I probably shouldn't do this," Dick whispered, just loud enough to hear him, "but I know Jay would have liked you to be there, so, just so you know, there's a gala tomorrow night at the manor. We're raising money for the five new libraries in the Crime Alley schools."
Natalia looked up.
The boy squirmed a little in his seat, nervous and red-cheeked. Her silence caused him to continue explaining.
"You don't... have to do anything. Just be there. Your presence is important."
And it was the first time in a long time that someone had said something like that to her that wasn't a lie. However, the thought of finding herself in Bruce's territory without a small presence to protect her from his outbursts made her rethink whether it would be a good idea to show up at a party she wasn't invited to. Although, technically, that's just what Dick was doing: inviting her to the gala. Considering her for what she had been, the mother of a child important to everyone.
She drummed her long fingernails on the cup, for a few silent seconds.
"Do you want me to be there?"
Dick blinked a couple of times. "Of course I want that, Natalia. Jason was important to you too."
He had been. He still was.
In every raindrop she saw his tears, and she could swear that sometimes she heard that muffled laugh that signaled Jason was up to mischief. On those nights, lying on bed with her eyes on the glowing stars of the ceiling, she would call the little boy's name out loud, commanding him to fall asleep next to her. The laughter quieted, the wind blew in the windows, and though Natalia didn't sleep, she hoped he would.
She needed to be there. She wouldn't miss his graduation, she wouldn't miss a gala on his behalf either.
"I will go."
Natalia Knight, that night, showed up at Wayne Manor with the same pendant she wore in the battle for Jason's custody. Her dress, long, black and shiny, left stunned looks wherever she stepped, some of curiosity and some of disgust. Even after so many years, she was rarely considered one with Gotham's elite, especially after adopting her little bird.
It mattered little to her. She was not there for the purpose of dazzling, but to support the cause
Bruce, of course, was the first to be notified of her presence.
"Natalia..."
She was tempted to ignore him.
The chandeliers above them in the ballroom sparkled like diamonds, if they weren't encrusted with them; and an orchestra played softly in one corner which gave rise to the dancing of some couples dancing in a romantic mood. She hadn't expected something like this at a gala about his Jason, but after all, he had always liked to keep things classical.
Bruce's hand was placed in front of her.
"May I have this dance?"
And so, they danced.
Bruce was out of practice, but Natalia's experience was all they needed to keep from crashing to the floor. The white rose on his chest looked real, not plastic like all those she saw before, and she stopped herself from caressing the petals when Bruce's voice reached her ear.
"Was it Dick?"
"It wasn't you, that's for sure."
The orchestra, the light, the pompous dresses of the wealthy women. Everything looked like something out of a fairy tale.
"I didn't know you liked this kind of events."
"You never asked." She spun around, with the metaphorical help of Bruce's hand on her waist. "Jason was my son, too."
"I'm not trying to..."
"Save it."
No matter how many years passed since the death of their son, they would never agree on the little things that made the difference between friendship and enmity. Bruce's eyes avoided her, even though his touch lingered on the seams of her dress, even though for every step they took people moved out of their way as if they were the center of attention at the party.
A little maskless bird was watching them from the side, rocking back and forth on his heels with a big smile.
Bruce cleared his throat, "His birthday is in two weeks. Would you like to come?"
To the birthday of a kid he didn't even know well? Natalia's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. The birthday didn't fall on some notable date related to Jason, either.
"Tim is...anxious. To get to know you more."
And it was something she would never understand.
How many times had she seen the shadow of the new Robin watching her back at night, making sure she got home safely even though she knew how to defend herself perfectly? Countless. The boy was looking for something in Natalia that she refused to give: something much deeper than a curiosity derived from knowing who Nocturna was in Batman's life. No, this went beyond Batman and Robin, and was moving closer to dangerous territory. Perhaps, all he wanted was to know more about her little bird.
Bruce's hand reached up to tuck a lock of black hair behind her ear. As always, she wore that pearl earring.
"I have matters to attend."
"Natal..."
Someone interrupted the dance. "Master Bruce."
Alfred. She hadn't seen him since that time in the manor, when she only wanted to put her hands on his fragile neck just for implying Jason's death. Immediately, she took a step back.
"There is something that requires your attention. Now."
Natalia didn't even pretend to feel surprised to see Bruce quickly forget her to go after the butler. It wasn't the first time it had happened. After all, she had never been someone who grabbed Batman's attention much, except for a few sporadic encounters that neither of them wished to repeat. Bruce had his heart elsewhere, and Natalia didn't expect to be able to love anymore in life.
Before she knew it, she had company again.
"Hi, Miss Natalia." Tim Drake's eyes sparkled under the chandelier lights, so much so that she forced herself not to grimace a little. "Could you be so kind as to follow me? There's something I have to show you." The boy's tone denoted nervousness.
"...Why?"
"Please?"
Damned puppy eyes.
She had seen herself immune to that tactic long before she met the star of it. Now, any kid could make her melt with that look.
Following Tim, who was stumbling a little dressed in a suit a little bigger than he was, among the elite people of Gotham was strange, but not as strange as watching the way they passed rooms and more rooms quickly without, it seemed, a set course. She was about to ask him if he was lost, they could look for Bruce or call him on the phone, until Tim's tiny hand uncovered a chandelier that opened a secret staircase.
"This way."
The damn Batcave.
She could barely keep the surprise from being reflected on her face as she looked around.
It had changed since she had last seen it, a couple of years ago in a conversation with Bruce that quickly turned into an explosive discussion about their behavior. Things were displaced. Some lay on the floor, broken to pieces, priceless pieces that were now good for nothing more than to be picked up with a broom.
But that was not what made her heart break.
It was the case.
"Natalia, what...?"
Her heels echoed across the floor of the Batcave as she quickly approached that cracked glass, drawn over with a paint that tried to imitate the blood of her little bird. The words echoed in Natalia's mind.
«I
Am
Here.»
"You promised me he was not a martyr."
Bruce's hand tried to grasp her shoulder, but she quickly shook off the grip as if the touch burned. The blood boiled in her veins, so much that for a few moments she wished she could claw at them, let the pain would her like a fountain as long as she no longer had to feel every passing minute how her heart was hammered by the decisions of a selfish father.
"I didn't..."
"You promised me!" Natalia pressed herself against the case, not caring if she was stained with the fake blood, as if she could merge into one with Robin's suit. "You promised me! His spirit will never be at peace because you have him trapped here, in the rubble of your memories!"
Bruce flinched.
"He's a child..." her voice broke, and she had to fight the crime committed in her throat to continue speaking. "He was my child. He can't be here. The darkness frightens him, Bruce. The humidity... The humidity curls his hair in a way he hates. He's unable to sleep unless he hears others nearby, because he thinks they might leave him at any moment, and he needs his journal under his pillow."
Tears ruined Natalia's make-up, sliding down her cheeks against the glass of the case in which she wanted to lock herself.
"...I know."
"And whoever did this..." she flexed her fingers against the reddish liquid. "Find them. And make them pay."
She hated the case. It only served as a reminder of Bruce's self-flagellation, rather than a shrine to Jason's memory. No. Jason would have hated being locked behind glass, with only a metal plaque to remind him.
Before she could realize what she was doing, Natalia opened it, slowly, ignoring Bruce's sudden, deep inhale behind her. Nothing mattered more than Jason's comfort, even if he wasn't present. Natalia didn't need him to be there. She would hear him talk in her dreams about this act.
Robin's suit was stitched together by the broken seams in a sloppy way, trying to hide the multiple rips in the old, faded fabric. In addition, the "R" symbol seemed a bit more slanted to the right, rather than centered, showing that it had indeed not been Alfred who sewed it again. The lump in Natalia's throat grew larger as she imagined Bruce, the self-sacrificing hero, sewing with trembling hands the last piece of clothing his son wore before taking his final breath in Ethiopia.
She folded the suit and cape, carefully.
"Burn the case to the ground." Natalia commanded, turning her face slightly to look at Bruce's face. "Our son will not pay for Gotham's sins."
Without another word, she hugged the pieces of clothing to her chest before leaving through the alternate exit of the Batcave.
Joker was dead.
The media had been covering the story since Gotham police found the clown's dismembered body under a memorial to flood victims twenty years earlier. Every TV channel, radio station and social media outlet was talking about the same thing.
And Natalia had not been the culprit.
After so long without justice, the victims could finally sleep soundly at night. Jason's spirit, which she sometimes heard sobbing on the emergency stairs of her apartment, might not appear anymore now that life had dealt with his killer the way he deserved: slowly, and cruelly.
A new name was spreading through the streets. One that took credit for Joker's murder with pride, carrying that weight on his back, and Natalia found herself looking at the murals painted in his honor in parts of Crime Alley. The Red Hood, that's what they called him. He had appeared out of nowhere, quickly ending the use of children to sell drugs, and controlling areas of the city that even the police dared not enter for fear of reprisals. Someone who knew every street well enough to run from the bat that hunted him.
She hunted him too, though for very different reasons.
The Joker's death was a before and after in Batman's life. For Natalia, however, it was nothing more than a malignant tumor disappearing from her brain.
Red Hood might be a Gothamite at heart, but nothing was stopping her from finding what she wanted.
"Are you coming for the bat?"
The boy's voice was robotized by a red helmet that lived up to its name. Natalia didn't need to be very smart to recognize that voice as a very young one, maybe too young, even if his physique proved otherwise.
"No," she answered.
"...Then, what?"
She rose from the edge of the building, slowly, in an attempt to show that she wasn't armed and certainly wasn't looking for a fight with the new crime lord. She knew how lethal the guns Red Hood carried on him could be, if the multiple murders of incompetent mobsters were any indication.
"I want to thank you."
Red Hood clicked his tongue, his body language becoming tense and impatient.
"I don't need anyone's thanks." He said with a haughty air. "I've only done what no one else has had the balls to do. Looks like this town's just as cursed as ever."
That confirmed Natalia's suspicions: really, the boy was a Gothamite. And not only that, but maybe from the deepest part of Gotham, judging by the soft New Jersey accent that crept into his voice from time to time along with a certain Middle Eastern tone. It reminded him a bit of his little bird's accent, even deeper, that he let out when he had something to complain about.
"Joker was the man who took my son from me." Red Hood froze, but Natalia was unable to stop her words. "And as a mother, I myself would have ripped that monster's throat out before I died. But preserving my child's memories were priority. From the depths of my soul, you have my thanks."
"...You sound like you're very proud of him."
"I am. No child will ever be able to match him, in my eyes."
Red Hood moved slowly, as if he wanted to circle around Natalia. A ploy to make her feel cornered. However, she remained composed and firm.
"Not even Robin?"
The lump in her throat grew again.
"My son didn't need to be Robin to be magic. He was born with the stars in his eyes and a galaxy in his heart. He may not have flown like Robin, but he did his math homework days before it was due, and he read every book he was given, even if it was boring for his age. There is nothing more magical than a child with hope."
Red Hood's hands unclenched, slowly, silently. For a few moments, he seemed to want to say something, until he regretted it.
"I know you have no use for my help," she continued. "But still, I'll give it to you if you need it."
"I don't want the bat to..."
Before he could even finish what he was about to say, his words were cruelly interrupted by the sound of a cape moving against the wind and a heavy body falling beside them. The shadows chasing Batman covered the entire surface of the building, forcing Natalia's feet to be bound on the ground. Red Hood's reaction, however, was as explosive as his name: his body contorted into a fighting stance that looked somewhat familiar, and one of the pistols appeared in his hand.
"Get away from him, Nocturna."
She didn't move an inch.
Instead, she stepped in front of Red Hood. Natalia knew Batman's rules. No one killed in his city without him knowing about it, and he made sure to take them behind bars whoever they were. This time, with the very young boy behind her almost shivering --from Bruce's presence, from the cold, who knows- -she wasn't going to let him step over her jurisdiction. Red Hood had killed Joker. That made him far more important than any other rogue assassin.
"He's mine, now." Natalia ruled.
Batman's teeth chattered, "He's a murderer."
"I disagree. He's a hero."
People spoke of the Red Hood in whispers, but not out of fear that he would show up, but in the same way that everyone tended to speak in hushed tones when a baby was sleeping next to them. No one, not Black Mask or the Penguin, managed to have that protective effect on Gotham. And maybe she was beginning to be one of them.
"...You don't know who he is."
The words escaped Batman's lips with a different tone than before. Despairing. Natalia, for her part, raised an eyebrow.
"Red Hood. He didn't show you his face like he did me." From one moment to the next, the other moved like a caged animal, only the sound of his heavy footsteps on the roof breaking the atmosphere of silence in a city where it was strange. A bad omen appeared in Natalia's stomach. "If you knew who was behind the mask... Nocturna, you wouldn't be protecting him."
He was wrong.
It didn't matter whose face was hidden, whether it was that of someone young and a little lost in the world, or an adult who was sure of what he was doing. Natalia continued to owe him her life.
Minutes passed, minutes in which neither dared make a single move. Batman's breathing, labored from a cold that never seemed to end, formed the mist around his mouth from the night's chill. Then, before she could react, she was abruptly turned around to see an all-too-familiar face.
The air disappeared from her lungs.
"Nocturna..."
Jason's hair always curled in a characteristic way due to the humidity, a way he hated and Natalia was forced to comb even seeing it as adorable. Over the years, she had taught him to avoid that frizz he hated so much, but he never learned how to calm it down. There, in front of her, it was just as messy as the last time they saw each other.
"Hi, Mom."
"How long have you known about it?"
Natalia's voice came out in a whisper, but she knew immediately that it was heard when Bruce's fingers paused on the computer keys. Pages and pages of blood tests were presented on the screens, all with the same result.
"...Two days."
"And you didn't think to tell me."
The bitter emotion in her throat made it increasingly difficult for her to swallow. Her eyes, normally veiled with indifference, were infected with the disease of tears that kept slowly falling. Perhaps the IV still in her arm had something to do with it, even though it was only mere nutrients that would keep her hydrated in that small period of unconsciousness.
Jason's face did not disappear from her mind.
It had been like being hit by a tsunami. Jason's eyes no longer looked blue, that beautiful color that Natalia could compare to the brightest sapphires in the world; instead they were replaced by two emeralds that reminded her of the same color Damian Wayne proudly wore. Almost as if they were blood brothers.
She had to work a little to sit up on the edge of the gurney, slowly.
"I want to see him." She demanded.
"He's not in a good state of mind right now, Natalia." Bruce turned his chair to look at her, an indecipherable expression on his face. "He can be dangerous. He has killed people with his bare hands."
"I don't care." The more Bruce spoke, the clearer it became to him that he was not on her side. "He's my son. You won't be able to keep me away from him for long. What do you expect, Bruce?" A sarcastic smile appeared on Natalia's face. "I'm supposed to sit here while you decide what to do with Jason? Take him to court and see what the city thinks about him murdering that rat."
The man's hands in front of her clasped, and if Natalia didn't know better, she would think he was about to throw punches left and right. However, her commitment was not to him.
She removed the IV from her arm, before rising from the gurney.
"I'll find him."
Because a mother's instincts never failed. And though Bruce's voice haunted her, seeking to change her mind about seeing the man Jason had become, the longing in her chest wouldn't give her a second's respite. She needed to see her little bird, the one she never got to see for the last time due to the cruel circumstances of life that took him from her too soon. Expecting two miracles in so few days was greedy, but Natalia's heart did not slow down.
The child she loved so much, she could not see behind bars.
There, sitting in a corner of the cell where other criminals had been, he looked like a child of his own age: it was impossible for him to be more than eighteen, or nineteen at the most, even if his body said otherwise.
"Mom?"
"We're going home, Jay."
She deactivated the cell alarm with the security code, and when she opened the door, an overgrown body rushed at her with all the force of a nightingale.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Jason's voice broke with the sobs that lashed him, "Mom, I'm so sorry..."
"Hush, little bird." Natalia said, in the ear of the person she loved most in this world. "Oh, my little star sweeper... I'll sweep the stardust for you."
Jason would always be the boy who would hang the stars in Gotham. Who, using one of his immortal laughs, would keep the sky clear and the clouds at bay when insomnia forced Natalia's gaze to fall on them.
Leaving a soft kiss on her Robin's forehead, she promised herself.
No one would ever separate them again.