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Elo, ok so this is not properly edited or finished. I just have one day before Ao3 deletes the draft and I can't finish it anytime soon because im working on another piece of writing that needs my full time and attention so read at your own risk because this is the first draft 🙏🙏🙏🙏
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The rooftops of Gotham were drenched in rain- the kind of restless, icy drizzle that crept under armor, soaked into gloves, and made even Kevlar feel like cold paper. The city glowed faintly below, bathed in the harsh gold of bright streetlamps and the dull neon flicker of signs trying too hard to stay alive.
Batman moved like a ghost among shadows, barely a whisper against the skyline, his cape drifting behind him like a leaf caught on the wind. Beside him, Robin kept pace- silent, sharp-eyed, and perfectly balanced. There was a coiled readiness to Damian that most people mistook for arrogance. It wasn’t. Not really.
“Suspect’s been spotted near the docks,” Oracle’s voice crackled into their earpieces, distant but steady through the static hum of rain. “Two blocks out. Not moving fast, but he’s definitely not subtle.”
Robin scoffed under his breath, the sound rapping into Bruce’s comm like a spark. “Too slow. He’ll be gone if we don’t pick up the pace.”
Batman didn’t miss a beat. Just flicked a glance back, a short nod cutting through the storm. “Then don’t fall behind.”
They hit the rooftop edge and leapt as one. Batman’s cape flared like the wings of a great shadowed beast, catching the wind with practiced grace. Robin dropping beside him in a tight, practiced crouch.
The alley they landed in stank of rusted metal and soaked concrete. Rainwater pooled around broken pallets and overflowing trash bins, a swirling mess of city runoff and rot. And there, standing as if daring the world to look away, was their target.
He looked like a fever dream of bad decisions. His outfit was a stitched-together mess, glitter splattered boots, neon-orange and unicorn-print socks, and a swirling rainbow cloak that dragged like a banner of broken dreams. His mask, cheap plastic painted green, was cracked across the jaw. He stood in the middle of the alley like he owned it, like the madness on him was a shield.
Definitely not one of the big names. A street-tier rogue, maybe. Someone clawing for relevance. The kind who’d burn the world down just to have their name screamed before the flames hit.
“If you give up now,” Batman warned, voice like gravel ground through steel, “you won’t spend the rest of your life eating through a straw.”
The man laughed. It was the wrong kind of laugh- high, jittery, peeling at the edges of reason. His grip tightened on a warped staff topped with a cracked crystal, glowing in time with a frantic pulse. The light cast broken, stuttering shadows across the walls.
“You don’t get it, Batman,” he snarled, voice fraying at the edges. “Your time’s up. The old knight? Done. This world needs cleansing- and your legacy ends tonight! Lets start with the little one shall we?”
Then the crystal flared- wild, red-blue light bursting outward like lightning tearing open the sky. Magic twisted off the staff in a violent arc, hissing through the air like a serpent on fire.
It was aimed straight at Robin.
Damian tensed, instincts blazing, already shifting to dodge-, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“Robin-!”
Batman was faster.
One step. Two.
He shoved Damian hard, sending him sprawling out of the line of fire. The blast hit Batman. dead-center in the back.
There was a flash like a supernova, blinding white carved into blood-red, and then silence.
Not peace. Not quiet.
The kind of silence that rings. That screams in the bones. That happens when something wrong just happened and the universe hasn’t caught up yet.
The rain kept falling. It hissed on the ground, on the walls, over the man’s still shoulders. The rogue stumbled back, breathless, laughing like he didn’t just make the biggest mistake of his life.
Batman didn’t move.
Damian pushed himself up, soaked and furious, his sword drawn in a blink. “You imbacile! 'ahmaq!” he snarled, lunging forward- *أحمق -- Dickhead*
But backup arrived first.
Nightwing landed with a crash of boots and purpose, escrima sticks already drawn.
"Language" He laughed, mocking the classic, low Batman voice.
Batgirl- Cassandra- followed like a whisper behind him, her movement fluid and unreadable. Spoiler came in last, winded but grinning, sliding into position with a toss of her hood.
Ten seconds. That’s all it took. The rogue was on the ground, groaning, zip-tied and unconscious.
“You okay?” Nightwing asked, panting lightly, glancing Damian over. “Where’s B?”
Damian swallowed hard, his grip on the sword tightening. “He took the hit. He was...-” He turned, heart racing.
And froze.
There was nothing.
No body. No cowl. Just a detached cape on the ground.
The soaked black cape lay abandoned in the alley, heavy and limp, like a skin discarded.
It was only now they realized the rain had stopped.
“Where is he?” Spoiler murmured.
Cass moved first. She stepped carefully past the wrecked staff and scanned the alley with surgical precision. “Robin. Spoiler. GCPD. Now. We’ll find him.”
Damian opened his mouth to protest.
Cass looked at him. Not cold. Not stern. Just… firm. “Go.”
Spoiler took his arm. “We’ll be faster if we split. Come on, D.”
He hesitated, then nodded, silent and angry. Together, they vanished into the wet dark, dragging the rogue behind them.
Cass and Nightwing turned.
A muffled noise- small, cut off halfway, came from behind the dumpster. A gasp choked into silence.
Cass stepped forward. Nightwing followed.
She bent down to retrieve the cape. He moved toward the sound.
When Dick rounded the corner-
He stopped. Hard.
His escrima sticks dropped from his hands with a clatter.
Curled in the narrow space behind the dumpster was a boy. Tiny. Barefoot. Barely older than ten. His arms were locked around his knees, one hand clasped tightly over his mouth as if trying to smother himself back into the shadows. His dark hair was tousled, half-matted from a discarded cowl beside him. His eyes- so familiar, too familiar, were bright blue and glassy with tears.
His cheeks were flushed and blotchy. Tear tracks ran clean down his face. New ones kept falling, racing to catch up.
Cass peeked over Dick’s shoulder.
She inhaled sharply. Froze.
Time stopped around them.
The boy’s eyes flicked upward. They widened.
Then he screamed- not loud, but raw. Broken.
“Go away!”
He shoved himself harder into the corner, like he thought he could phase through the wall. Like he wanted to disappear.
“Go away!”
He sobbed, loud and painful, chest heaving with each gasped breath. His whole body trembled like he was caught in a quake.
Dick knelt slowly, his back hitting the dumpster. His voice came out strangled. “Is that- ?”
The boy hiccupped and stared at them, panicked and soaking and small.
“Who- who are you?!” he wailed, voice shattering in his throat.
Cass stumbled back like she’d been hit.
Dick pressed shaking fingers into his hair, voice cracking. “Oh no. Oh no no no…”
“Shit,” Cass whispered. She knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding them both in the reality neither could accept.
The cowl lay between them, just a piece of cloth now. A mask without a man.
-
It was silent in the alley.
Nightwing’s voice had been quiet but firm when he told Spoiler and Robin to head straight to the cave, cutting the rest of patrol short. He didn’t explain why, he didn’t need to. One look at the small, trembling figure tucked in the shadows was explanation enough.
Then they were gone, leaving only Nightwing and Cassandra. But he didn’t stay long either. A glance between them, a nod, and he melted into the darkness above, trusting her to handle it.
For five full minutes, nothing moved. The alley held its breath. No footsteps. No voices. Just the soft, uneven rhythm of a child’s sobs, slowly quieting into hiccups and silence.
Cass waited.
Still, unmoving.
Letting the space settle.
Letting him settle.
And then, carefully she stood.
No sudden motion. No sound beyond the shift of her boots against concrete. She reached up, unfastened her cowl, and drew it off in one smooth motion, holding it loosely at her side. Her face, open, soft and young was visible now in the dim streetlight that barely reached into the alley.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Her voice was quiet. Not a whisper, Just soft, like a lullaby. Her hands stayed at her sides, empty, nonthreatening. She didn’t move any closer.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.”
The boy, small, pale, wide-eyed watched her without speaking. His back was pressed to the cold brick wall, arms clutched tight around his knees,
Cass tilted her head slightly, lowering her own body into a crouch so they were closer to eye level.
“I’m Cass,” she said after a pause. “I’m eighteen.”
A beat.
“What’s your name?”
Still no answer.
She didn’t push. She didn’t ask again.
She just stayed there, crouched in the quiet, her voice gentle and sure.
“I won’t touch. I won’t get close. Not until you want.”
A flicker in the boy’s eyes. Not quite trust. But not terror either.
“I know it’s scary,” she added, her tone not changing. “But I’m here. Not to hurt. Not to lie.”
Another pause. Her gaze didn’t waver. She let him see her, just her. No mask.
She nodded slightly toward her own chest. “We help people. When they’re lost. Hurt. Or scared.”
She saw his hands clench tighter around his knees, and softened her voice again.
“You don’t have to talk. Not now. Not if it’s hard. Just... stay. Breathe. That’s enough.”
Cass knew how to approach frightened children. Batman had taught her part of it, his silence, his presence. But she had learned even more from watching, not just him, but the ones they helped. The way their eyes moved. The way they flinched from words before hands.
So she learned to speak with her stillness.
To offer safety by making space.
And when she saw the boy’s shoulders ease, no not relax, but ease, just a little she gave the smallest nod, a silent promise.
“I’ll stay,” she said simply. “As long as you need.”
Cass waited, silent as the city breathed around them.
The boy’s breaths came uneven- shaky inhales, wet exhales, like each one hurt a little less than the last. He still hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, but his eyes were fixed on her now. Watching. Thinking.
She didn’t push. She just crouched there, steady and open, her arms loose at her sides.
Minutes passed. Or maybe only moments. Then-
“My name is…” His voice was hoarse, raw from crying. “Bruce.”
Cass’s expression didn’t change, but something inside her chest curled in quiet pain.
“I’m ten,” he added, a little more firmly, like it mattered. Like he needed her to know he wasn’t just a kid.
She nodded slowly, giving him space to keep going or stop.
“I… I don’t know how I got here,” Bruce whispered. “I was at home. I think. But then… it was cold, and dark, and I- ” His breath hitched. “I don’t remember. Everything’s fuzzy. Like a bad dream.”
His arms curled tighter around his knees. His head dipped low.
“I just want to go home,” he said, voice cracking.
A pause.
“I want my mom.” It came out small. Choked. “But she… she...”
The last word broke something. Bruce sucked in a breath, tried to hold it, and failed.
He crumpled.
Cass didn’t speak. She didn’t flinch. Just opened her arms slightly, no more than a few inches. An invitation. A promise.
Bruce moved before he could think, before fear could stop him. He launched forward on unsteady limbs and collided into her chest with the full weight of a child who had held it in too long. She caught him gently, instinctively, wrapping her arms around his small form as he buried his face in her shoulder.
They sank slowly to the ground together, Cass shifting so she could sit cross-legged on the cold concrete with Bruce in her lap, clinging to her like a lifeline. His tears soaked through her suit. His hands fisted in the fabric. He shook.
Cass held him through it all, one hand pressed steady between his shoulder blades, the other combing through his thick, damp hair with a touch so light it was almost reverent.
“You’re safe,” she whispered, more breath than sound. “You’re safe now, Bruce.”
He didn’t answer, only cried harder, but something in his posture changed. The way he clung to her, it wasn’t just fear now. It was grief. Need. Something smaller than trust but growing with every breath.
Cass rested her chin lightly against the top of his head and closed her eyes.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”
And she didn’t let go.
Minutes had passed.
The sharp, painful sobs had dwindled to soft sniffles and the occasional hiccup, each one quieter than the last. Bruce lay curled against her, small and shivering, but no longer trembling with fear. His breath hitched now and then, but it was calmer- more exhausted than panicked. Cass kept her fingers moving through his hair, slow and steady, like waves against sand.
Then, the silence was interrupted by a soft crackle in her earpiece, followed by Oracle’s voice, low and calm.
“Nightwing just checked in. He’s wrapping up patrol and heading back to the cave now. He explained everything. I’ve already relayed the situation to Agent A.”
Cass’s eyes flicked upward briefly, listening.
“You and Nightwing can fill in the rest of the team when you’re all together,” Oracle continued. “Agent A’s already arranged a room for Mini B, Nightwing's words, not mine- for him to stay in until we can call in Zatanna.”
There was a pause, the static softening before Barbara’s voice returned, lighter but still serious. “I haven’t contacted her yet. I wanted to wait until everyone’s together in the cave. But I’ll be coming by tomorrow too. We’ve got a lot to figure out.”
Cass touched a gloved finger to her earpiece. “I’ll bring him home now.”
A slight, almost inaudible breath came through the comm. Maybe approval. Maybe something like worry. Then the line clicked off.
Cass lowered her hand, but as she did, she felt a shift against her chest.
Bruce was looking up at her now, eyes red and glassy, but alert. His fingers clutched the edge of her suit with renewed tension.
“Is… is someone here?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain.
Cass blinked, then nodded once, slowly. He’d heard Oracle’s voice.
She gave him a gentle, reassuring look and spoke softly. “It was a friend. She’s helping.”
Bruce’s brows knit together. “Helping?”
Cass nodded. “She watches everything. Keeps us safe. Like... a guardian angel if you will.”
Bruce didn’t respond right away, but his grip loosened slightly. His eyes flicked to the side, like he was imagining someone floating above the city. Then he looked back at her, expression clouded.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice quieter now—small and shaky, like he already feared the answer. The adrenaline was gone, burned out, leaving behind only confusion and exhaustion.
Cass met his eyes, steady and kind. “Home.”
The word made him freeze.
“I already have a home,” he whispered, like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “I was just… I was in bed. At the Manor. In my room. And then…”
He trailed off, his eyes darting around the alley again, seeing the puddles, the brick walls, the sliver of moonlight slicing down between buildings. He blinked rapidly, breath catching in his throat. “Then I woke up here. In this... weird costume. It’s not mine. I don't know where it came from.”
His fingers curled tightly into the edge of her suit, clinging like a lifeline. Panic bloomed fast and sharp in his eyes, cracking through the confusion. “Someone took me. I didn’t run away. I didn’t. I swear! I swear I didn’t mean to-!”
Cass didn’t flinch. Didn’t hush him or pull away.
Instead, she slowly brought one hand up, her fingers brushing gently through his hair. Slow, careful, grounding strokes. She felt him tremble, watched the way his shoulders shook, the way his voice cracked.
“I know,” she said softly. Her tone didn’t change. It didn’t need to. “You didn’t. None of this is your fault. And you're not in trouble.”
Her other hand shifted slightly, adjusting his weight in her arms. “I’m taking you back to the Manor now. It’s still there. Still yours. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Bruce blinked up at her, confused, disbelieving-,hopeful, despite himself. The look on his face hurt to see. He wanted to believe her so badly it looked like it might break him.
Cass adjusted her hold on him again, carefully lifting him higher as she prepared to stand. “Here. C’mon.”
His arms clung tightly to her shoulders as she rose, carrying him with no visible strain, like she’d done it a hundred times before. His head nestled against her neck, warm and damp from tears, and though he didn’t say another word, he didn’t pull away either.
She didn’t try to speak again. She just held him close, her hand resting gently over the back of his head, fingers still stroking through his hair with that quiet, steady rhythm.
“We’ll go together,” she murmured. The words were more than comfort. They were a promise. To him. To herself. To the city that always asked too much of the people who tried to protect it.
She stepped out of the alley, the shadows falling away behind them as they entered the faint glow of the streetlights. The Batmobile waited at the curb where Nightwing had parked it, silent and still like a predator at rest.
Cass opened the passenger door and crouched just enough to buckle Bruce in. He looked up at her again, blinking tiredly, his small hands clenching the seatbelt as she clicked it into place.
“It’s okay,” she said again, her voice barely above the sound of the wind. “You’re safe.”
She shut the door gently and circled to the driver’s side. Only a few people were ever trusted to drive the Batmobile, especially when Bruce was out of commission. She was one of them. He’d made that clear years ago.
As the engine rumbled to life beneath her, she spared a glance at the rearview mirror.
Bruce was already leaning against the window, cheek pressed to the glass, staring out at the world rushing past- lost in thought, in memory, or maybe just too tired to think at all.
Cass’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel for a moment.
Then she drove, steady and smooth, carrying him back through the dark.
Home.
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The car was quiet, save for the steady hum of the engine and the occasional whisk of tires against wet pavement. Gotham passed by outside the window, streaks of gold and neon in the dark. In the passenger seat, Bruce sat with his knees tucked up, too small for the seatbelt to fit properly, swallowed in a hoodie two sizes too big that Cass got from the back when he said he was cold.
He stared out the window, fingers picking at the frayed hem of the sleeve. He’d been quiet since they left the alley, since the stranger- Cass, though he was pretty sure is was short for Cassandra, gently told him that she was going to take him home. At first, he wondered how she knew where he lived, but then he remembered. He's a Wayne, not just some random rich kid. A Wayne of course she knew where he lived, everyone does.
She was nice though, they stopped by a very modern looking 24/7 coffee shop and she had gotten him a hot chocolate which was nice, even if he hadn't drunken it since he got it.
Eventually, he asked, voice hesitant and small. “Why did I wake up in an alley?”
Cass didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the road, expression unreadable in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, it was usually after she’d already sorted through the weight of every word, mini Bruce didn't know that though.
“You’re not supposed to be ten,” she said finally. “You’re thirty-nine. It's the year 2030 now.”
Bruce blinked, his lips parting in confusion.
“Huh...?”
“There was a spell,” she said. “Magic. You got hit.”
He turned to stare at her. “A spell? Like... real magic?”
Cass gave a slow nod.
“You were protecting someone. Your son.”
Bruce froze. “My what?”
“Your son,” she repeated, calm and matter-of-fact. “He’s eleven. Just barely older then you now.”
He squinted at her like she was speaking in riddles.
“But why was I even out with him? Why would I bring a kid into something dangerous enough to involve... spells?”
Cass didn’t answer. Her fingers tightened just slightly on the steering wheel.
“We’ll explain later,” she said. “When we’re home. Everyone will help.”
Bruce didn’t seem satisfied with that. His brows furrowed as he leaned forward, curiosity pushing past the confusion.
“Wait.... I have a son? Am I married? Is my wife pretty?”
Cass laughed. It was a short, quiet sound, barely more than a breath, but it surprised even her. She shook her head.
“You’re not married.”
Bruce slumped back in his seat, making a face. “Oh.”
There was another pause. Then Cass added, “But you have a lot of kids.”
He turned to look at her again, this time he made a disgusted looking face. Cass smirked, knowing what the kid was thinking.
“One’s biological. The rest... you adopted.”
She didn’t say the names. Just said it simply, he was going to meet them soon anyways.
“And there’s one staying with you while his parents get better,” she added. “They’re sick.”
A beat passed.
“And one more. She’s not related, but she’s always around. Like family.”
Bruce didn’t say anything. He just stared ahead, watching the city slowly fall away behind them, the skyscrapers shrinking in the rearview mirror as the road curved out into the quieter parts of Gotham.
“That’s... a lot,” he said finally.
Cass smiled slightly. “You like it,” she said. “Even when you pretend not to.”
He didn’t answer. But after a moment, he pulled his sleeves down over his hands and looked out the window, quieter now, like he was holding something delicate in his chest and didn’t want to drop it.
The car drove on through the dark, toward the old road that led home.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THIS IS MENT TO BE IN THE END BTWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
** I feel like I'm never going to mention this so here is a quick timeline for this story.
NO! this probably isn't accurate
NO! I don't care
YES! If you see a mistake, no you didn't
NO! This doesn't even make sense to me but I spend maybe 30 minutes trying to do the math for this so shush
PLEASE! let me know if you have any tips for this kinda stuff </3
I know its a stupid thing to say but I am writing this at 2:45 AM and I haven't slept it what feels like forever.
So, just a quick confirmation on some things just incase
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1991
Bruce was born in 1991
his Parents died when he was 8(1999)
he goes to travel when he is 15
he comes back at the start of the year when he is 20 and a few months after 'Batman' has his first night out(2011)
meets Dick at age 24 (Dick is 11) and a few months after he becomes his Ward he is Robin(2015)
Bruce gets with Talia if ykwim (2017)
Dick becomes Nightwing at 16 (Bruce is 29, it's 2020) Jason Becomes Robin that same year
Jason dies at age 12 (2023) Tim comes along at age 9 and Bruce is 31
Bruce Meets Cass when she is 16 and he is 37( at the start of 2028)
He Finds out about Damien(11) and Jason comes back in the same year
He meets Stephine through Tim when she and Tim is 16 and he is 38(2029) Damien also becomes Robin and Tim is Red Robin
Him and Jason can also be in the same room without tweaking at each other
He meets Duke when he is 15 and Bruce is 29 (2030)
2030
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