Work Text:
As soon as Bruce's consciousness returned, he began assessing his situation. Aside from the putrid stench of sewage that threatened to suffocate him and a few lacerations, he was fine.
Next, he considered the behavior of the man-bats currently restraining him. They'd had an opportunity to kill him without resistance, but had refrained. Meaning that someone needed him alive.
That significantly narrowed down his list of suspects. Really, there was only one person Bruce could think of that had the resources to command an army of ninja man-bats, owned a base beneath one of the heaviest-populated cities in the world, and didn't want him dead.
His suspicions were confirmed when a familiar figure sauntered out of the shadows and into view. She wore a green, rose-patterned qipao and had a blanket-wrapped bundle propped against her hip.
"Who but the daughter of the ultimate international criminal would have her own secret lair in London's sewers?" he grunted. "Let me guess, Ra's got you this place for your sixteenth birthday?"
"Eighteenth, actually," Talia answered with a disdainful sniff. "You must have injured at least thirty of my allegedly elite mat-bat commandos during your scuffle, beloved. Bravo. We'll work out the bugs in the next batch. Fortunately, there's no shortage of zealots to die for our cause."
"You're still carrying on your father's work," Bruce spat.
"Ra's al Ghul is dead," Talia snapped. "The League of Assassins has entered a new age. This is my very own little magnum opus."
Talia's gaze softened, and she drew closer to Bruce. With her free hand, she cupped his chin with a tenderness that belied their present relationship.
"They say there are no coincidences, my detective. But have you forgotten that night you and I shared under the desert moon above the Tropic of Cancer?"
No, Bruce hadn't forgotten. He pursed his lips, refusing to lean into the warmth of her touch.
"That was a long time ago, Talia. Whatever we had, it's over."
Talia dropped her hand with a disappointed sigh.
Bruce was quick to change the subject, "Surely you didn't kidnap me just to reminisce about old times."
Talia pursed her lips, "No, I didn't. The death of my father threw the League into a state of turmoil. Not everyone is willing to accept me as its leader. There is a faction claiming that my brother, Dusan, is the true heir of the Demon. Their actions threaten to upend everything my father fought for. It is not safe for the boy."
"Boy?" Bruce echoed.
Talia placed the bundle in front of Bruce and peeled back the blanket to reveal the wriggling form of a child no more than a year old. He was dressed in a green changpao to match Talia, and was gnawing on a teething toy that was shaped suspiciously like a shuriken.
Talia snapped her fingers, and the man-bats holding Bruce down withdrew.
He picked up the baby, holding him at arm's length as though afraid he would explode. Bruce stared down at the boy, brows furrowed.
The child, unimpressed, scowled back at him.
"What is this?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. His pulse pounded in his ears, and he forced himself to temper the flicker of hope he felt.
"This is Damian. As of today, he is eleven months old," Talia answered. "My son. Our son."
Bruce's mouth twisted for a moment before his face settled back into his usual stoic expression.
"Our child died. You lost the baby."
"I lied, beloved."
Bruce grit his teeth and tore his eyes away from the boy to glower at Talia.
"I thought it would be for the best," Talia supplied.
"You thought lying to me about the death of our son so you could raise him in the League of Assassins—"
"He was never supposed to stay in the League. I planned to give him up. I hoped that he would live a normal life, safe from the dangers of our world," Talia whispered, placing her hand atop Damian's head. "Can you say that if you had known, you would never have searched for him? You would not have used every means at your disposal to find him?"
"Why tell me about him now? What changed?"
Talia turned away, her expression obscured by darkness.
"I was selfish. As soon as I laid eyes upon him, I knew that I could not bear to leave him. To give him away would be to cleave off a piece of my own flesh. And he reminded me so much of you, beloved. Of all of the times we shared. I could not let him go."
"You should've told me," Bruce said, his voice soft and devoid of anger.
"I am telling you now."
"Hnn."
Talia bent down and pressed a kiss to Damian's cheek, "I will return to the mountains and there rebuild my army of man-bats. I will quell the rebellion in the League. In the meantime, I will leave Damian in your care."
With that, Talia and her remaining man-bats sank back into the shadows.
Damian observed the departure of his mother with a blank expression. Once she vanished from his sight, he turned his attention toward Bruce.
Damian had Talia's rich complexion, and her high cheekbones, but Bruce could see some of his own features reflected in Damian. The boy had his heavy brows, the set of his mouth, his hair, and his eyes. He would still run a DNA test just to be sure, but he already knew that Damian was his son.
It was funny; he had always imagined Damian much smaller. In Bruce's mind, Damian had never progressed past the size he was in the ultrasound picture Talia had presented him with. He had traced the curves and shadows of the image so often that he could see it if he closed his eyes.
He tucked Damian against his chest, feeling the baby's warmth even through his suit. Damian's soft hair tickled Bruce's nose as he rested his head in the space between Bruce's shoulder and neck. He fit like he had always belonged there.
For a moment, Bruce was gripped by the sudden fear that none of this was real. Perhaps he was still unconscious, and had dreamed this whole scenario. Or maybe he had been drugged, or trapped in a magical illusion that showed him his heart's desires.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and caught a whiff of a sweet scent with a faint, milky undertone. Damian tilted his head to look at Bruce. Then, he raised a tiny hand to his father's face. Bruce felt Damian's fingers skimming his skin, brushing against his nose, his eyes, and his mouth. Finally, Damian pressed his palm against Bruce's cheek, holding his face just as Talia had.
That was when Bruce knew that this was not a dream. This was real.
And his son, his baby boy, was alive.