Chapter Text
Bruce’s phone chimed as he entered the manor after a long day at Wayne Enterprises. If it was Lucius asking for another signature, Bruce swore he would…well, he would go up to his office, read the paper and sign it, but he would be extremely sad about it.
Slipping off his shoes and giving the gargoyle shadow on the wall a quick scratch between the ears, Bruce headed in search of his sons and Alfred. The shadow gargoyle scratchily purred and followed him.
It turned out to be a message from Harley. The Cool ❄️[snowflake] 😎[sunglasses emoji] 😜[winking tongue out emoji] Rogue + 🦇[bat] group chat TM was meant to be an efficient way for him to warn the parts of Gotham Batman couldn’t reach about incoming cataclysmic events. It quickly devolved into…not that.
He scrolled past an artistic photograph of a snowflake from Mr. Freeze and Catwoman’s inquiry about the best Thai food near the docks before he reached the newest message. It was a selfie from Harley, with Poison Ivy lounging behind her. They were on top of the absolutely decimated corpse of one of WE's subsidiaries. A subsidiary that had recently been investigated for illegal dumping in Gotham harbor.
Well. He could tell Lucius to knock that off of tomorrow's agenda.
Bruce 'heart'-ed the photo. He squinted at Riddler’s response of an indecipherable string of emojis. Dick could translate for him later.
He was about to the kitchen when he ran across Tim. As usual, Bruce took a moment to clock the shadows immediately surrounding him. It was a good hint as to Tim's mood; any of the family members' shadows meant Tim was feeling lonely and needed hugs and reassurance, an abundance of weird artifact shadows meant another angry voicemail to Jack and Janet Drake (why they wouldn't just...officially give Bruce parental rights, he would never know), and assorted Gotham critters and unsuspecting Gothamites' shadows meant Mischief.
Coffeemaker shadow was happily brewing away at Tim's side, Batcoon was chowing down on a shadow hot dog, and--
"Tim. What do you have there?"
Tim narrowed his eyes, raising the drink in his left hand. "One of Alfred's smoothies."
Bruce internally sighed. "No chum, I'm talking about the ninja shadow drinking a smoothie." The shadow froze before slinking further behind Tim. Bruce frowned.
"Oh!" Tim beamed at him. "Isn't it cool B? I found it out shopping with Dick. And I got its friends too. I didn't even know Gotham had ninjas."
"Gotham doesn't." Bruce eyed the other ninja shadows creeping along the halls of the manor. With no warning, he threw a punch at the nearest ninja shadow. The shadow gracefully ducked out of the way, rolling back with all-too-familiar fluid movements.
"Bruce! What? Why would you do that to my shadows?!"
Bruce knelt down in front of his son. "Tim, those aren't ninja shadows. They are operatives from the League of Assassins."
Tim's eyes widened. "Sweet."
Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Not sweet. Trouble. The really bad kind of trouble. Batman outlawed them from Gotham."
"Then why were they following me and Dick on a cereal run?"
"That's what we've got to find out. Can you call all the assassin shadows here?" Tim nodded, and within seconds assassin shadows were lining the hallway. There was an uncomfortably large number of them.
"How many of their shadows did you take?"
"Dunno. I just kept grabbin'."
"Okay then," Bruce sighed. He addressed the shadows. "Did Ra's Al Ghul send you?"
No response.
"Talia?"
No resp--there! A slight twitch from one of the shadows. Bruce grimaced. At least he only had to make one call, but at what cost.
Bruce turned away from the Batcomputer, looking at Tim.
"Did you have to text your brothers."
"Uh. Yeah." Tim gave him a 'duh' look, taking an obnoxiously large sip of his smoothie.
Bruce slid his gaze to the right, where Dick was glaring at him in full Nightwing gear. "Dick, chum, I'm sure it's just a...misunderstanding, or something. Talia won't be visiting Gotham, I promise."
"Just call your demon ex and let's get this over with."
"She's not technically--"
Jason--also in his Robin gear--snorted. "You really want to go there B?"
Bruce's shoulders slumped. No, no he did not. He adjusted his cowl, making sure it was in place. Bruce was wearing the cowl and top half of the Batman uniform, but had his Superman fleece pj bottoms on. Sue him, it's not like the camera was going to see his pants, and he would need the comfort for this conversation.
"Wait!" Dick shouted, slapping a mask into Tim's hand. "Baby Bird, you got to wear your domino just in case. You never know with the League."
Tim grumbled, but put his mask on. "I'm not a baby anymore."
Jason rested his arm on the top of Tim's head. Tim unsuccessfully tried to push him off. "Yeah, but you are the babiest bird here."
"And Preteen Bird just doesn't sound as good."
"But--!"
Bruce cleared his throat. "Are we ready to start the call?" It was always best to call without warning to any of the al Ghul family.
The boys straightened, forming a loose semi-circle around the Batcomputer chair. Tim shooed his shadows away to the farthest reaches of the Batcave. Bruce clicked a button, and within moments the call connected to Talia. She was in one of the underground rooms in Nanda Parbat, firelight flickering in wall sconces and a handful of assassins mock-sparring in the back.
"Beloved. Always a pleasure to hear from you."
"Talia," Bruce ground out. "Why are your assassins in Gotham?"
Talia blinked at him, face betraying nothing. "I do not know what you mean."
"Don't lie to me."
"Truly Beloved, I've no idea--"
"Ma-ma-mother?" A small voice interrupted Talia. For the first time in his life, Bruce watched as Talia's face paled in shock.
"Mother?" The voice continued, followed by a sniffle. "Is it sleep time yet?"
"Damian." Talia snapped harshly, still maintaining eye contact with Bruce. "Not now."
Another sniffle. From his right, Dick let out a low hiss. "Okay mother."
"Talia. Is that...?"
Talia broke eye contact. "He's a remarkable boy."
"My son."
"Yes." At the word, Bruce felt his heart break. But then Talia continued, "He's just started training, and he's shown great aptitude for it. A prodigy. He'll make the perfect heir for my father." The rest of Bruce's heart crumbled. Oh, hell no. He could feel Jason's white-knuckled grip on his chair.
"I want to meet him."
"Not yet. He's not ready."
"To what? Meet his father?" Bruce's voice cracked halfway through the words.
Talia wouldn't meet his eyes. "Father wants him to progress further in his training, and--"
Bruce's voice was icy. "Absolutely not."
"The operatives I sent to Gotham have confirmed you already have your hands full with those false sons. You need not worry yourself about Damian."
"They are all my sons. I care for them all equally, and like hell I will let you raise my son to be an assassin in your father's cruel death cult. You wouldn't have sent assassins to monitor me and my children if you weren't considering sending Damian here. We will be in Nanda Parbat in the morning to meet him."
"Don't trouble yourself. I can send him on the next commercial plane to Gotham."
"He's a baby Talia, what are you talking about?"
"Damian is a toddler, and very advanced for his age. But fine. We will await your arrival."
"Wait, Talia--" The call disconnected.
The screen blinked to black. They were all silent for a moment before Tim stepped forward and pointed at the screen.
"Aha! Look who's no longer the Baby Bird around here!"
Bruce rubbed a hand over his cowl as his boys broke out into bickering. He inputted the sequence to prepare the Batplane.