Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This, thought Helena, is the coolest thing ever.

Granted, she had said that several times over the past year. She’d said it when she saw Cass spar for the first time. She’d said it when Dick performed a quadruple somersault in the Cave (and thought it when Steph told her that Tim figured out everyone’s identities from that one clue when he was nine). She’d said it when she saw Alfred perform Shakespeare, when Damian used his sword, when Tim and Barbara did anything with computers.

But today she really meant it, because today she was in space.

It had been a complete accident. Alfred was on his yearly holiday, which meant any and all meals (save those that Jason might prepare, as he out of all the family had sole clearance for kitchen usage) were to be one of the pre-made meals that Alfred had frozen for that week or takeout. Normally there would be at least three of Helena’s siblings in the house at a time, but today they’d all been busy. Dick had finally gone back to Bludhaven with Barbara in tow (“He knows Babs can flirt over the phone, right?” Steph had groaned), Jason and Cass were in New York for a Broadway show, Tim was on a WE trip to Metropolis, Steph was with her mom, and Damian was at the Kents’ house with Jonathan.

Which meant Bruce had no one to watch Helena when he was needed to cover monitor duty on the Watchtower for the Flash.

Which meant Helena was in space (the coolest thing ever) looking down at the Earth (the second coolest thing ever) while wearing one of Damian’s dominoes (which was definitely somewhere high on the cool list).

“Every member used to carry a special beacon on their person that allowed them access to the Watchtower,” Bruce said, tapping at the control deck’s console while Helena perched on his lap. They’d been in the Watchtower for several hours already. During that time, Helena had listened raptly as Bruce told the story of the Justice League, of strangers working together to form a team, of life and death and trust turning them into friends. Now they sat in the console room, munching on some poptarts stolen from the Flash’s stash (“Don’t tell Alfred,” Bruce had said, as though Alfred wouldn’t know anyway).

“Couldn’t someone just steal a beacon and sneak up here?” Helena asked, nibbling on her poptart.

“They could,” Bruce said, “but it was highly unlikely that they’d know the purpose of the beacon. However, we’ve obsoleted the beacons and replaced that system with the zeta tubes. The teleportation deck is a redundancy now. The members only use it on rare occasions.”

Helena hummed and switched the strawberry poptart in her hand with Bruce’s hot fudge one. “Do you think I can meet them?” she mumbled around a bite.

“Meet who?” he said.

Helena rolled her eyes. “The Justice League, Bruce!”

“Oh, them?” he tapped her on the nose before stealing his poptart back. “I don’t know, you’ve already met your favorite superhero, so I don’t really see the point in you meeting anyone else.”

“Uncle Clark isn’t my favorite superhero,” Helena said, her head cocked in confusion.

Bruce gave her a flat stare. “I meant me, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” Helena bit her lip and looked at him apologetically. “Um, actually—“

She cut off as a light appeared on the console. “What’s that mean?”

Helena watched as Bruce pulled up a screen on the monitor to reveal the entrance to the zeta tubes. Harsh light filled the screen before fading to reveal a solitary woman walking briskly towards the hallway.

“Looks like you get your wish,” Bruce sighed, setting Helena on the ground before standing up.

“Is that Wonder Woman?” Helena stood on her toes to try and see the screen better. It didn’t matter how good your definition was; being short made everything harder to see.

“It is.” Bruce held out his hand for Helena to take. “Do you want to meet her, or would you prefer to keep staring at her through the monitor?”

She grabbed his hand.

Tightly.

It wasn’t that Helena was scared or anything, but she was meeting Wonder Woman. There had been superheroes in the other world. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern—they’d all existed, but Helena had never really paid attention to them when she was younger. But now she had Batman as her dad, Superman as her uncle, and a whole slew of other heroes as her siblings.

And that included Jason, the unofficial head of the Wonder Woman fan club.

“She is the greatest superhero to ever super, and I will die on that hill,” he’d said once, wearing his favorite Wonder Woman hoodie.

(“Please don’t,” Bruce had replied.)

So with every step down that hallway, Helena could hear was Jason’s voice extolling the praises of Diana, Princess of Themyscira. Her strength, her courage, her talent, her determination, her intelligence—

But when they rounded the corner and they finally stood face to face with Wonder Woman of the Amazons, the first thing Helena noticed was the kindest smile she’d ever seen.

Chapter Text

From the first moment that Diana had met Bruce Wayne, she had been intrigued.

Some of that curiosity simply came from the fact that he was a man, and she had never met one before. However, as time went on and Wonder Woman continued to fight alongside Batman and the Justice League, he continued to surprise her.

The man could fight.

As much as Diana came to love Clark and the others, many of them relied on their strength and speed with no regard for technique. An enemy raised his head? Obviously the solution was to punch as hard as you could. But not Batman. Batman fought with intention, his skill allowing him to overcome enemies that physically outclassed him with ease. Of all the leaguers, Bruce was the only one who truly gave Diana a challenge when they trained. Oh, of course Clark and Barry could push her physically, but Bruce challenged her mentally as well. The man would have made a fantastic warrior.

More than that, the man could think.

And that was his true strength, wasn’t it? He had a plan for everything, a contingency for every failure. He could analyze a battle and tease victory out of certain disaster. Bruce wasn’t just the smartest man Diana had ever met; he was the most intelligent person she knew.

But after Batman had turned into Bruce, and teammate had turned into friend, Diana realized something very important. It wasn’t the skill that made Bruce special, nor was it his intelligence.

Diana had seen Bruce defeat countless enemies in battle. She had seen him decipher purportedly unbreakable codes and solve convoluted mysteries. She had seen him do the impossible so often that she sometimes forgot his human limitations.

And yet the most astounding thing she had ever seen him do was comfort a frightened child they had pulled from a collapsed building. They had been helping with rescue efforts after stopping another villain from wreaking immeasurable havoc on a city when the girl had been extracted from under the building. She was gray, covered in cement dust, too terrified to do anything more than heave shuddering breaths. The medical personnel looked her over, treated her miraculously minor injuries, and left her wrapped in a trauma blanket to go care for others. The job was over, the rescue completed.

But Bruce stayed. He sat down next to her on a chunk of rubble and added his cape to her shoulders. He spoke to her in a gentle voice of nothing, not expecting any response. When CPS arrived to collect the girl, they found her curled up asleep in Batman’s arms.

So when Diana found out that Bruce was a father, she was not surprised in the least. Her only regret was that she had not been introduced to his children sooner (and perhaps it was because she’d never met a child other than herself before coming here, but Diana thought Bruce’s children were absolutely wonderful). Diana took every opportunity to work with Bruce’s sons and daughters (“You can call us the Batfamily,” Dick had told her once with a wink. “It drives B crazy, but deep down he loves it.”). And sometimes, when she was free and they were free and the criminals were not free, Diana would spend time with the children out of the costumes.

Dick took her to her first circus and bought her popcorn and funnel cake. He sneaked her back to where the animals were kept (“I don’t think being part of the Justice League means I can flout the rules, Dick.”). As they patted the prickly side of an elephant, he told her of his childhood before Bruce (and the sad realization they’d both had that they’d outgrown their childhoods).

Jason introduced her to the library and his favorite books. Whenever she read a new one she texted him about it, and he always had a new recommendation for her in return (and Diana almost cried when she first received that first text from Jason after he came back from the dead).

Cass and Diana never sparred. Instead, Diana carefully followed silent instructions and learned to float around the room wherever the music led her. Sometimes it was a waltz, sometimes a polka, and sometimes they just jumped around the room as their giggles filled the air. Whatever they did, it always ended with a hug goodbye.

Tim was shy when he first met Diana (not as shy as Jason had been, but Tim didn’t harbor quite the admiration for her that Jason did). He’d stood there awkwardly for a bit before asking if she’d like to see some of the pictures he had taken. After that, he wouldn’t stop talking about angles and lighting and focus and a myriad of other terms that Diana had never thought of before (but found so interesting simply because she could hear his love for the craft in every word). They quickly realized that Diana had no talent for photography (but her first picture, a candid of Tim fiddling with his camera, was secreted away on her bookshelf where she could see it).

Stephanie did spar with Diana. Every time (“You’re a literal Amazon and the coolest woman I’ve ever met. Of course I’m gonna fight you!”). They’d started with their fists, then moved on to melee weapons. Stephanie was no savant, but she was stubborn and determined to better herself; she was just like Diana at that age. Except for the fact that Steph insisted on being treated to boba tea since Diana had just beaten her repeatedly. Diana was happy to oblige, though; boba was tasty.

Diana had heard much of Damian before she met him. She heard of his arrogance, his skill, his disdain for anyone and everyone. And then she’d met him, and found all of it to be true – along with all the parts no one spoke of. His uncertainty, his fear, his desire to please. And, surprisingly, his respect for her. She’d spoken to Bruce about it afterwards, and he’d postulated that Damian respected her because he’d had a similarly skilled mother (and had Damian not been resurrected when he was, Diana would have gutted Talia with her bare hands in revenge for what the woman had done to her son). Sometimes Damian and Diana would go to the zoo together, sometimes Diana would watch him draw in silence (and next to her picture of Tim was a pencil sketch of Diana with a Robin on her shoulder).

So when Clark told the team on Bruce’s behalf that he’d returned from traveling dimensions with a daughter in tow, Diana had several reactions.

Relief was first, a sharp intake of breath that shook loose the grief she’d locked inside her.

Joy came next, soaring through her veins as a wet laugh escaped her mouth.

Anticipation followed, because now there was another child that Diana could meet, and she was sure that Helena would be just as wonderful as all her brothers and sisters were.

She’d understood when Bruce had asked for time before introducing Helena to any of them. He’d needed time to recover from his journey, and Helena needed to acclimate to her new home. Diana could wait. Instead she kept in contact with Alfred and the children just as she had when Bruce was gone (and nothing made her happier than the fact that she’d never hear one of those children cry for their father over the phone while she was miles away, unable to hug them). She’d waited a few days before texting Bruce, just to give him time with his family, but the moment he responded she’d called him and heard the whole story. He’d spoken to her as Bruce then, not Batman. His voice had been quiet as he talked of alternate realities where the dead had switched places with the living. He spoke of defeat and destruction, of fear and failure – and he’d talked of Helena, how she was perfect and hurt and loving despite it. And then he’d promised that he’d introduce them soon. Not yet, but soon.

So Diana had continued on as normal, weeks passing with no word from Bruce. This week had been particularly “sucky,” as Dick would say. It had been a long, difficult week of nonstop crime-fighting, and now all she wanted to do was wear her most comfortable pajamas while reading her new book.

Only to find that her favorite shirt wasn’t in her closet.

It was, however, in her room on the Watchtower.

Which was why Diana was practically sprinting down the Watchtower corridor to the living quarters. Hopefully she’d be able to grab her shirt and retreat before Barry could catch her. He’d never let an opportunity to tease her go to waste (and even Diana had to let a smile slip at the thought – after all, who travels to space just to get a shirt?).

So when Diana rounded a corner and almost ran over Batman holding the hand of a small, curly-haired girl, she wasn’t prepared for it.

“Someone chasing you, Diana?” Bruce said, the side of his mouth twitching upward.

And suddenly it hit Diana that she was finally standing face-to-face with her friend for the first time in over a year.

“You idiot,” she said, her smile growing. Then she hugged him, gripping onto his cape so hard that she could hear the fibers straining. “I missed you, Bruce.”

He didn’t say anything, but the arms around her tightened.

Eventually Diana stepped back, wiping the wetness from her eyes before turning to look at the girl next to them. “You must be Helena.”

The girl had Bruce’s eyes, or – not quite the same, but the way she looked at you gave no doubt as to who her father was. The curly hair was a bit of a surprise (and in the back of Diana’s mind she wondered if Bruce’s hair would curl like that if it were long enough). And she was so small. Even Damian hadn’t been this small when Diana had first met him, and now—

Diana made a note to ask Jason if it was normal to want to squeeze young children’s cheeks.

“Hi,” Helena said (and the urge to squeeze became stronger). She stuck out her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Diana knelt down so that she was at eye level with Helena. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, Helena,” she said as she gently shook the girl’s hand. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Helena’s eyes went even wider. “Wonder Woman’s heard about me,” she whispered.

“Jason has been singing your praises to her,” Bruce said when Diana shot him an amused look. “Your fan club grows daily.”

“Bless Jason,” Diana laughed. Then she paused, her brow furrowing. “Why are you here, Bruce? I thought you were keeping to Gotham for the next few months?”

“Mr. Flash had an emergency, so Bruce and I are on monitor duty!” Helena explained excitedly.

Diana smiled warmly at Helena. “And I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job!” She stood then, her smile cooling as she turned her gaze to Bruce. “Though I’m surprised you’re training another Robin already, Bruce. Especially one so young.”

He didn’t blink at the questioning accusation in her voice. “Helena isn’t here for training. There was no one at home to watch her, so I brought her here.”

Diana relaxed at Bruce’s words. “Well then, may I join you?”

Helena clapped her hands together. “Yes! Can you show me how to use your sword?”

Bruce grunted. “Helena, we’ve talked about this. You’re too young for a sword.”

“I was wielding a sword by her age.”

The patented Bat-glare was thrown Diana’s way. “Weren’t you just reprimanding me for training her too young?”

Diana shrugged. “Somehow I can’t recall doing such a thing.”

Bruce’s mouth thinned, and Diana could almost hear his teeth grinding. She shook her head fondly and grabbed his hand in both of hers. “We’ll use some wooden training swords I have. I wouldn’t let her do anything dangerous, Bruce. You know that.”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind the cowl’s lenses, but Diana knew Bruce well enough to see the tension leave his body regardless. “Fine,” he sighed.

“Wonderful!” Diana said as Helena cheered. Keeping hold of Bruce with one hand, she reached for Helena with the other. “You’re coming with us. Who knows how much practice you got in those other dimensions.”

And so they were dragged down the hallway towards the training center, Helena running ahead while Diana laughingly pulled Bruce along behind them. Under Bruce’s watchful eye, Diana walked Helena through various stances and movements for almost an hour (and Diana would bet anything that, despite Bruce’s no-swords rule, Damian had been giving the girl tips nonetheless). At the end of the hour, Diana sat Helena down at the sideline to rest while she sparred with Bruce. No wooden swords for them; they fought with Amazonian steel, the blades singing a tune that they danced to with perfection. Bruce didn’t have the strength Diana did, nor the stamina, but he knew her almost better than anyone, knew how she moved and where she would strike. When the fight ended, Diana’s blade at Bruce’s throat, it was with smiles on their faces and sweat coursing down their brows.

And a wonderful, loving, tired little girl cheering enthusiastically for both of them from the side.

Chapter Text

Helena fell asleep before they even left the training room.

Diana and Bruce had returned from putting away the weapons only to find the girl asleep on the side bench. Diana picked her up gently and led the way to her room. She didn’t know what Bruce had in his room (the man was paranoid; a good idea when Barry and Hal were plotting together), but she guessed he didn’t have the multitude of cozy blankets that she did. Opening her door, Diana stepped inside the room. Helena didn’t stir as she was laid onto the bed and covered with a blanket. Diana tucked her in, pushed some of Helena’s curly black hair away from her face, and turned back to where Bruce stood in the doorway.

“Kitchen?” she whispered.

He nodded before stalking away, his cape swirling in his wake. By the time Diana reached the kitchen, Bruce had already put poptarts in the toaster.

“Wild berry?” Diana picked up the empty box. “Barry will love it when he sees his favorite flavor is gone.”

“The dangers of having me cover a shift while accompanied by a four year old,” Bruce said as he gingerly picked the poptarts out of the toaster. “Besides, if I’m breaking Alfred’s sugar rules, I might as well go all out.”

Diana took the proffered plate and hopped up onto the countertop. Bruce grabbed his own package of poptarts from the freezer and leaned against the opposite counter. He began to methodically nibble the edges of the poptart, saving the middle for last. Diana just watched him for a moment.

“You look good, Bruce.”

He glanced up at her, still nibbling.

“You seem happier,” Diana continued, “Happier than you’ve looked in years.”

Slowly a tentative smile formed on his face. When the Justice League had first formed, Diana had heard some of the members say that Batman had no humor, that he was just anger and broodiness and focus dressed up in a Halloween costume. It took her a while to realize that Bruce only showed softer emotions around those he cared about (and the first time he had given her a true smile, she had nearly broken her jaw smiling back).

“I am happier,” Bruce said as he finished his snack. He reached up and pulled the cowl off his head, revealing flattened hair and tired, smiling eyes. “I’m home.”

Diana smiled back. “And how does Helena like her new home? She seems happy.”

His mouth tightened. “She’s adjusting well. The entire family is enamored with her. The Manor is busier than it’s ever been.”

It was never easy to parse out Bruce’s expressions, but after many years as his friend, Diana had learned his language. She frowned, her head tilting. “Then what has you concerned?”

He frowned as he crossed his arms. “I’m not her father.”

Diana smiled fondly at him. “Bruce, I know her situation isn’t exactly the same, but not being someone’s biological father hasn’t stopped you from raising a child before.”

“Maybe it should have.”

Her plate almost slipped from her grasp at the words. “What?”

“My record as a father isn’t exactly stellar, Diana,” Bruce said. No, his voice wasn’t quite Bruce’s. He was speaking like Batman did on a case: direct, logical, emotionless. Lost in the facts. “I disowned Dick, Jason died, Tim’s family was murdered, Damian and Cass were raised as assassins, Stephanie had to imprison her own father – half of the things that have happened to them are because of me.”

“That’s not –“

“My fault? Of course it is. Six times I’ve been a father, and six times I’ve left them worse off than they were before. And now I’ve been arrogant enough to think I can do it again. I never should have let it happen. Any of it.”

Diana stilled, then set her plate aside. “You speak as though you regret taking them in, Bruce.”

The silence was like a slap to the face.

“Bruce, you don’t—“

“No!” He held his hand up as he interrupted her. His eyes were wide, almost frightened; it was a look Diana hadn’t often seen. “Of course I don’t regret them. I’d never regret any of them.”

She slid off the counter to stand in front of him. “Then what do you fear?”

His hands dropped to grip the counter behind him. The leather of his gloves creaked as he stared through her, taking measured breaths through his nose.

“Bruce?” she whispered.

 “What if they regret me?”

Diana had been at Bruce’s side through some of the most horrific things the universe had ever seen. She had been there through wars and invasions and betrayals. She had seen him at his lowest moments—when Jason’s body was still cooling in its grave, when Bane had broken his back—

And yet he’d never sounded more broken than he did now.

So she hugged him. She took those two steps over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him towards her. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if saying anything would help him, so she hugged him instead. He didn’t even pause before folding her into his chest, gripping her as if he would fall without her there to keep him there. She leaned her head against his and threaded her fingers through his hair.

And as her fingers carded through his hair, the words began to slip from her lips.

“When you were gone, I would talk with the boys quite often. Sometimes it was a meeting, other times it was over the phone. They do have regrets, Bruce. They told me about them.” She felt him tense and gripped him more tightly, keeping him in place. “Tim regrets not showing how much he cares for you, that you’ve been his father for years before he called you that. Dick regrets the time with you he lost by putting distance between you after your fights instead of staying to fix things together. Damian regrets not knowing you from birth, even though it’s not his fault. And Jason—“ Diana took a shuddering breath as broken sobs echoed through her memory, “Jason regrets so much, but nothing more than the fact that he isn’t sure you know how utterly he loves his father.”

She pulled back and cupped his face in her palms. His eyes were bright as he looked at her, his cheeks wet with tears.

“They regret many things, Bruce, but they don’t regret you.”

Another breath.

“I don’t regret you either.”

And with her words gone, Diana leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. Bruce didn’t reply, and she didn’t press. Perhaps her words meant nothing. Bruce was a determined man, and once he had an idea in his head it was hard to change his mind—but if that were the case, Diana would say it again. And again. And one day, perhaps he would believe it.

Eventually, Bruce cleared his throat and pulled his head back. Diana turned to lean her back against the counter next to him. Bruce may be more open than Batman was, but even he could only express so many emotions in a day.

“Helena should be waking up soon,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I can cover the rest of your shift. You two should go home and rest properly.”

Bruce grunted but didn’t move towards the door. Instead he stayed where he was, face clear of the desperation that had overcome it a moment ago. He was never one for conversation after something like that.

“I should probably buy some more poptarts for Barry.” Diana picked up the empty box from the counter. “We ravaged his supply today.”

“You should come to dinner this Friday.”

Diana whipped her head towards Bruce at the unexpected statement. He stared straight ahead, his arms folded across his chest.

“Should I?” she said.

“Helena would like it,” he continued, “and everyone will be there. They always enjoy seeing you.”

“I see,” Diana said, turning back to look forward. “And you of course don’t care either way.”

A playful smile grew on her face as silence grew between them. She glanced at Bruce after a few seconds, satisfied to see an almost constipated expression replace the previous stoicism. Giggles escaped her then, and she nudged his shoulder as she laughed.

“Of course I’ll come,” she said. “After all, I still need to defeat Timothy at that Spicy Uno game he’s so fond of.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “He cheats, you know.”

“Oh, so do I.”

His head swiveled towards her, his brow furrowed in surprise. She raised a finger to her lips.

“Don’t tell Jason,” she whispered.

And as Bruce’s laugh reverberated through the kitchen, Diana leaned against his shoulder and joined him. Perhaps a day would come where they wouldn’t do this anymore. Perhaps a day would come when Bruce would truly be gone, and she would sit and list all of her regrets too.

Let that day come, Diana thought.

It was worth having someone worth regretting to lose.