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Chapter Text

Gotham City. Red skies. Police blimps in the air, breaking through the clouds. The northern Gotham island, Founders Island, was home to Old Gotham. The houses in Old Gotham had been standing and refurbished and renovated dozens of times since their original construction in the eighteen hundreds. And to the northwest of Founders Island was Amusement Mile, a small island turned into a tourist trap.
It was in Old Gotham that the Wayne’s lived. A modest house in a beautiful part of Old Gotham. Thomas Wayne had gotten off from work and was just arriving home. He walked up the pavement and entered his home. He immediately found his wife, sitting at a computer in their office, Martha worked from home. Thomas grasped Martha in a hug and lifted her from the chair.
“Thomas!” Martha giggled and exclaimed.
Thomas kissed Martha’s cheek and kissed her neck.
“I missed you!” Thomas shouted.
“I’m in a zoom call,” Martha explained.
“Oh, shit,” Thomas cried.
Thomas put Martha back into her chair and pushed her chair forward. He leaned down into the view of the camera.
“Sorry, everyone,” Thomas apologized.
“I’m almost done,” Martha promised.
“I’ll start dinner,” Thomas shouted as he left the office and tapped on the door.
Thomas walked down the hall and turned on the kitchen lights. Then he started looking around.
“And where is that boy at?” Thomas yelled playfully.
Thomas could hear the television on. He left the kitchen and walked into the living room. There, standing on the sofa was Thomas and Martha’s seven year old son, Bruce. He was watching the Gray Ghost, an old series that starred Adam West. And Bruce was currently dressed in some Gray Ghost role playing gear that Thomas just had to buy for Bruce.
The young Bruce ran across the couch in a dead sprint and leaped over the edge, jumping into his father’s arms. Thomas’ eyes were wide but his reflexes were on point and he immediately caught Bruce and growled.
“You’ll never get me, Gray Ghost!” Thomas shouted.
Thomas threw Bruce into the sofa and the boy bounced and rolled back. Bruce pushed his cape aside and struggled to his feet.
“It’s over, monster!” Bruce growled from behind the plastic mask that he was adjusting.
Bruce pretended to punch Thomas and his father stumbled back. Then Bruce pulled a ninja star from his pants and threw it at Thomas.
“Arg!” Thomas howled.
Thomas fell back on to the sofa and held the star as if it had stabbed him in the heart.
“You got me, Gray Ghost!” Thomas exclaimed. “I’m dying!”
Then a little pale hand laid on Thomas’ hands.
“No, daddy,” Bruce argued. “I don’t kill people.”
Bruce took off his mask.
“You’re only supposed to be hurt,” Bruce corrected.
Thomas propped his head up.
“Sorry, kiddo,” Thomas apologized. Then he winked.
“It’s okay,” Bruce said and pulled his mask back down.
Then Thomas acted once again.
“Oh,” Thomas gasped. “I’m really freaking wounded, Gray Ghost!”
“I hope you think about this next time,” Bruce said.
“I will!” Thomas exclaimed. “I swear!”
“What is going on,” Martha asked as she walked into the kitchen.
“I’m earning my academy award,” Thomas said as he sat up.
“Gray Ghost again?” Martha wondered.
“I loved this show when I was a kid,” Thomas pointed.
“Gray Ghost is the best,” Bruce yelled.
Martha put her hands on her hips.
“I thought you were starting dinner,” Martha said.
Thomas sunk onto the sofa and hid.
“I did!” Thomas shouted. “I turned on the lights!”
“Oh, good Lord, Thomas,” Martha laughed.
Thomas threw Bruce onto the sofa and the boy bounced and laughed hysterically. Then Thomas jumped over the back of the sofa and rushed to the kitchen.
“I’m coming!” Thomas said.
“That’s what she said,” Bruce shouted.
Thomas stopped in his tracks. Martha smiled widely but kept quiet. Her hands firmly on her hips.
“Where did you hear that, Bruce?” Martha asked, staring at Thomas
“Daddy,” Bruce answered flatly but chuckled.
Thomas winced. “That traitor,” he mumbled.
Martha shook her head, Bruce returned his attention to the Gray Ghost. Thomas arrived in the kitchen and started grabbing the meat for dinner while Martha prepared the side dish.

Thomas and Martha and were laying in bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Thomas kissed Martha’s head and rubbed his nose against hers. Martha chuckled and laid her head on Thomas’ bare chest.
“How was work?” Martha asked.
“Some nuts were protesting fluoride in the water,” Thomas mused.
“You just had to be a civil engineer,” Martha mocked playfully.
“Hey, that’s how I picked up the hottest woman at Gotham University,” Thomas said.
Martha lifted her head and scowled.
“You got me with your weekend D and D games,” Martha said.
“I always was a sexy elf,” Thomas said.
“The sexiest,” Martha agreed.
Martha crawled up and kissed Thomas and she moaned.
“Daddy,” Bruce said at the bedroom door.
Martha was startled and jumped and rolled over, covering herself with blankets.
“What’s wrong, son?” Thomas asked and groaned as Martha kneed him in his ribs.
“I had a bad dream,” Bruce said, his voice shaking.
“Here I come,” Thomas said.
Thomas rolled around the bed, found his boxers and put them on beneath the blankets. Thomas stumbled out of bed and walked to the door and snatched up the young Bruce and lifted him into the air.
Thomas carried Bruce back to his room, hugging him tightly.
“You wanna talk about your dream?” Thomas asked.
Bruce rubbed his head against his father and blinked his tired eyes.
“It was a monster chasing me,” Bruce explained.
Thomas entered Bruce’s bedroom and laid him in the bed. Thomas held Bruce’s hand.
“You just turn around and you chase that monster,” Thomas said and winked.
“Can I hold a plushy?” Bruce asked as he pulled the blankets up.
“Of course!” Thomas exclaimed.
Thomas jump to his feet, Bruce’s small arm reached out and pointed at a small pile of plush animals in the corner of the room. Bruce’s favorite was at the top.
“That one,” Bruce said.
“You got it,” Thomas answered.
Thomas strolled away, snatched the animal and brought it back to Bruce. It had been Bruce’s favorite stuffed animal since their zoo visit over the summer. It was a bat. A bat that Bruce had named; “Bill!”
Thomas shook his head. He still couldn’t get over the name. Bruce had just randomly made it up at the zoo; Bill The Bat. And Thomas felt like there was a story in there somewhere. That had the makings of a fine children’s book.
Bruce eagerly took Bill the bat and snuggled back into his blankets. Then Thomas kissed Bruce on his forehead and flicked on Bruce’s night light. As Thomas walked away he watched Bruce make a large shadow of Bill the bat.

Thomas yawned as he drove the car, Martha sat beside him, his passenger princess. The married couple were driving down the street to Park Row Elementary where Bruce was attending school.
“The teacher said he had a stomach ache,” Martha said.
“Probably just didn’t get enough sleep,” Thomas pointed out.
Martha nodded.
Thomas parked the car in front of Park Row Elementary and got out. He rushed around and popped open the door for Martha. He held her hand and she climbed out, smiling. She kissed Thomas and the two walked up to the school still holding hands.
Thomas pressed a button at the entrance, the door rang and Thomas and Martha were let inside. Once inside, Thomas and Martha presented their identification cards and confirmed their identity.
“We’re here to pick up Bruce Wayne,” Thomas said. He was still holding Martha’s hand.
The receptionist pressed a button behind the desk and buzzed them in. She then waved Thomas and Martha through. Thomas and Martha walked down the hall, then Thomas knocked on the door to Bruce’s class. The teacher answered and held up her finger.
The teacher returned with the young Bruce.
“He hasn’t thrown up,” the teacher said. “But he keeps complaining.”
Thomas waved his hand. “It’s all right, it just means more time at home.”
Thomas smiled and looked down and winked at Bruce. And Bruce looked up and smiled tiredly. Thomas held one of Bruce’s hands and Martha held Bruce’s other hand and the boy swung himself in the air like a swing.
“Oh, you’re so sick,” Thomas chimed in.
“Just a tragedy,” Martha said.
Martha and Bruce were jerked back. Thomas had stopped suddenly but had not let go of Bruce’s hand.
“That hurt,” Bruce said.
Thomas was pale.
“Thomas, what?” Martha started.
A gunshot. Thomas and Martha watched as a gunman shot the receptionist point blank. He leaned over the desk and buzzed himself in. The gunman walked inside and started shooting. Thomas lifted Bruce and threw him into Martha’s arms. Then Thomas shoved Martha down the hall.
Bruce couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Thomas ripped a fire extinguisher off the wall and smashed it into the gunman’s head. Martha had collapsed. Bruce felt wet. His mother was laying on top of him. She wasn’t moving.
Thomas approached, he stumbled. Thomas dropped the fire extinguisher. He was bleeding out from a gun shot. Thomas crawled forward and lifted Martha and turned her over.
“Martha,” Thomas cried.
Thomas pulled himself up and sat against the wall. He grabbed Bruce and pulled him into a tight embrace. Thomas’ bloody hand held the back of Bruce’s head and pressed the boy against him.
“Close your eyes, Bruce,” Thomas said.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne had closed his eyes. The fourteen year old you man raised his right arm and laid it over his chest. His heart beat was steady, he wasn’t erratic or in a fit. He didn’t feel anything.
His long brown hair was blowing in the wind, the cool breeze gently dancing over him. Bruce was wearing pieces of a Gotham Academy uniform. He had thrown aside the jacket, and his white shirt was stained with speckles of blood and his sleeves were rolled up revealing a select amount of cuts on his forearms.
The blood on the shirt was not from Bruce, though. He had no bruises or wounds on his face. But his hands were pretty beat up. It looked like Bruce Wayne had been in some type of fight.
Bruce opened his eyes. He was standing at the edge of a cliff. His blue-gray eyes locked onto the aggressive and violent waves below. Bruce was mesmerized. One hand was still on his chest, and he felt calm. He felt peace. Bruce stepped forward. He was at the precipice. Bruce lowered his pale hand and walked off the cliff.
He was snatched from the air and jerked back violently. Bruce was thrown to the ground and he rolled and quickly stumbled to his feet. It was an older man, fair skinned with blue eyes. He walked with a cane and Bruce noticed the limp in his right leg.
The gentleman looked at Bruce, the young boy had tears in his eyes. He held up his hand as he approached Bruce. When he spoke he sounded like Andrew Lincoln.
“You hungry?” he asked.
Bruce relaxed and tilted his head awkwardly. He looked like a Labrador.
The man walked by Bruce and continued.
“I always eat by myself so I have plenty,” he said.
Bruce watched him for a minute, and reluctantly followed him to the house.

That house was a classic mansion, renovated and maintained by the elderly gentleman. The house was on Gotham’s mainland, connected to the city by the Kevin Conroy Memorial Bridge to the north of Founders Island. The mansion was at the top of a beautiful hill, overlooking the ocean.
The British gentleman had taken Bruce to his garage, where he was working on a long, two seated, retro futurist car. As Bruce ate the Pad Thai that the British gentleman had prepared, he went on about the car;
“Before Amusement Mile closed down, they had this retro-future display,” he explained. “I always loved this shell. Bid way more on it than I should have!”
Bruce just ate in silence.
The British gentleman leaned up from working on the engine and put his tools aside. He grabbed a rag and wiped off his hands. Then he leaned against the car and watched Bruce carefully. He saw the bruises, the saw the cuts, he saw the blood stains.
“You a good fighter?” the British gentleman asked.
Bruce nodded. “I like to box,” Bruce answered. “My dad….” Bruce trailed off. “He liked to box.”
The British gentleman nodded.
“Looks like you kicked someone’s ass,” the British gentleman said.
Bruce laughed.
“I’m Alfred, by the way” he answered and threw away the rag.
“Bruce,” he said quietly.
“Do you have a home, Bruce?” Alfred asked.
Bruce nodded slowly.
“So why were you here, Bruce?” Alfred asked.
Bruce leaned forward, his hair falling over his eyes.
“I wanted to feel something,” Bruce whispered.
“The fighting isn’t enough anymore?” Alfred asked.
Bruce shook his head and looked at his hands.
“No,” Bruce answered.
Bruce rubbed his hands. Alfred grabbed his cane and slowly approached Bruce, but then there was a ring at the front door. Bruce jerked back. His eyes widened. Bruce jumped up and grabbed his jacket from his school uniform and dug inside.
“Shit,” Bruce cursed.
His cell phone was on. His tracking was on.
Alfred held his hand up and walked toward the door.
“Yeah,” Bruce heard Alfred say. “Let me get him.”
Alfred closed the door and turned around. Bruce was approaching, and Alfred mimed for Bruce to roll his sleeves down and hide the cuts on his fore arms. Bruce quickly obliged and then threw his jacket on.
Alfred opened the door and patted Bruce on the shoulder. Bruce nodded at the man in the wheelchair at the front door. It was Thomas Wayne.
“Bruce talks about you all the time,” Alfred said. “Apparently you were quite the boxer.”
Thomas shook his head and smiled.
“That was a long time ago,” Thomas said.
“I’m Alfred,” he introduced himself.
“Thomas,” he said.
And the two men shook hands. Then Alfred patted Bruce on the back.
“He’s been helping me restore my car,” Alfred said. “I can’t do much with this leg.”
“Trust me, I get that,” Thomas said and laughed.
Alfred nodded and laughed.
“I just wish he would have told me,” Thomas explained and looked at Bruce, but the boy never made eye contact with his father.
Alfred shook his head. “Bruce said you knew, so I really do apologize. This is my fault,” Alfred said.
Thomas waved his hand. “It’s okay,” Thomas said. “Thank you for looking after him.”
Alfred nodded. “Of course!” Alfred exclaimed.
Thomas looked at Bruce. “Let’s go, kiddo,” Bruce said.
They waved bye and moved to the car that was waiting for them.

The drive home was silent and awkward. Jim Gordon had driven Thomas to the estate, and he was driving them back. Thomas was in the passenger seat, and Bruce sat alone in the back of the car, just scrolling on his phone.
Jim pulled up at the Wayne residence in Old Gotham.
“Let me get your wheelchair,” Jim said.
“No,” Bruce said and opened the back door. “I’ve got it.”
Bruce quietly went to the trunk, but Jim got out anyway and followed Bruce to the back of the car.
“Your dad loves you, Bruce,” Jim said.
Bruce opened the trunk and retrieved the wheelchair. Bruce’s mind flashed back to that day when he was seven, Jim Gordon was the first officer on the scene. He had carried Bruce out of the school. Bruce shook his head. He did not want to think about that. He didn’t want to think at all.
Bruce nodded and pushed the wheelchair to the passenger door. Jim closed the trunk and walked with Bruce. The young man opened the door and carefully grabbed his father, slowly and carefully and gently, Bruce helped Thomas into the wheelchair.
Jim patted Thomas on the shoulder.
“Have a good night, Thomas,” Jim said.
“You too, Jim,” Thomas said.
Jim closed the passenger door and walked around the car and got in. He slowly drove off and turned a corner and faded from view. Bruce quietly walked Thomas up the ramp that had been installed at the Wayne residence to accommodate Thomas.

“Don’t storm off,” Thomas said. “There aren’t stairs in here, and I will chase you.”
Bruce had been halfway down the hall. He dumped his bag on the floor outside his door and marched back toward his father. Thomas had stopped at the dining room table, and he just watched Bruce.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Thomas asked.
Bruce instinctively rubbed his left arm, but his sleeves hid anything specific. Bruce just shook his head.
“Did you at least win?” Thomas asked, referencing the fight.
Bruce bit his lower lip, and he finally nodded.
“Good,” Thomas said. “I’m sure he deserved it.”
“He did,” Bruce muttered.
“Go get your shower,” Thomas said. “I’ll start dinner.”
Bruce nodded. He escaped to the bathroom. Bruce carefully threw off his clothes and tossed them into a laundry basket in the bathroom. They he stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet. The water washed over him and he sighed. Then, Bruce closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Gotham Academy. Despite Bruce’s behavior and sarcasm, he had actually managed to not get expelled. Yet. Bruce Wayne was sixteen years old, he was tall, slim, his hair was tousled. His black jacket was unbuttoned, his tie was gone. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and wasn’t even tucked into the black slacks that completed his school uniform.
Bruce was sitting outside. Gotham Academy was located on the edge of the island and had a beautiful view of the ocean. He liked to relax out there when he could. Bruce was joined by his best friend, Lucius Fox. A sixteen year old black boy, he was quite the opposite of Bruce; Lucius’ uniformed was tidy and well kept. Lucius was also the best student at the Academy. Highly regarded, and maintained the highest test scores of the entire school.
“I can’t find my credit card,” Lucius said, digging through his pockets.
Bruce revealed the card from his sleeve as he took a bite from his lunch, a delicious looking Mexican bowl.
“Don’t ask about the charges,” Bruce muttered between bites.
Lucius snatched the card from Bruce.
“Did you use my card to door dash lunch here?” Lucius asked.
“Lucy, don’t be EA Games,” Bruce said.
Then Bruce revealed another bowl, sealed.
“Besides, I got you one too,” Bruce added.
Lucius snatched the bowl and sat down beside Bruce. The two ate and quietly scrolled their phones. Lucius had come to expect this as part of a social contract with Bruce; he did not talk much. Not about his bruises, not about anything. That’s what it meant being Bruce’s friend. Lucius appreciated it, though. Bruce didn’t treat Lucius different. Like everyone else at the Academy.
“This is good,” Lucius said. “What made you pick it?”
Bruce nodded. “The hot Salma Hayek,” Bruce said and nodded at the older girl across from them and over by the fountain. “She was eating it yesterday.”
Lucius lifted his head and looked.
“That’s Talia,” Lucius said. “She’s Arab, not Mexican.”
“I’ve heard it both ways,” Bruce said.
“No, you have not,” Lucius said.
“I can’t do this with you right now,” Bruce said.
“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Lucius asked.
“I’m not made for relationships,” Bruce said flatly. “I fuck up the people around me.”
Lucius shook his head. “I’m doing all right,” Lucius pointed out.
“You haven’t seen my penis,” Bruce argued.
Lucius shook his head.
“You should at least talk to her before she graduates next month,” Lucius said.
Talia was eighteen, she would be graduating Gotham Academy before the summer. Bruce’s clock was ticking, so to speak.
“I’ve only been watching her every day for the last year,” Bruce said. “It doesn’t mean I need to talk to her.”
“Okay, first of all, that’s creepy as hell,” Lucius said.
“I just wanted to know what she liked,” Bruce pointed out.
“Second of all, you had a crush on her the moment she transferred here,” Lucius added.
Bruce shrugged. “I like to admire from afar,” Bruce said. “I’m not good for anyone.”
Lucius shook his head.
“Nah, I ain’t buying that,” Lucius snapped.
Lucius stood up and waved his arm in the air.
“Talia,” Lucius shouted. “Come here!”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bruce growled.
“She and I are in the same advanced class,” Lucius whispered.
“I didn’t know she took tap dancing,” Bruce muttered.
“Don’t you dare say that out loud,” Lucius snapped. “I told you that in confidence.”
Talia walked over, and her entire crew followed along. Talia was a beautiful young woman. Long dark hair, olive skin, and dark, mysterious eyes. She was a long, cool woman in black.
“Hey, Lucius,” Talia said, smiled and waved. “What’s up?”
“I know you were graduating in like two weeks so we probably weren’t going to see each other,” Lucius rambled. “So I wanted to say good luck.”
“Thank you!” Talia said genuinely.
Lucius caught Talia looking at Bruce, and he pounced.
“This is Bruce Wayne,” Lucius said.
“Hi,” Talia said, and she lingered. Like, she really lingered. Bruce made eye contact and gave her a nod.
“The fucking delinquent,” a voice from Talia’s entourage said.
It was a boy with red hair and blue eyes. It was fucking Tommy Elliot, he sounded and even looked like Chris Carmack.
“Hey little buddy,” Bruce said and winked. “Your eye looks a lot better.”
Tommy grabbed Talia by her arm.
“Don’t waste your time on the delinquent and the DEI student,” Tommy said.
“What did you fucking say?” Bruce asked.
“Bruce, don’t,” Lucius said.
“Lucius is not a delinquent,” Bruce snapped.
Talia laughed and Lucius shook his head.
“Oh my God,” Lucius muttered.
“At least Brucey got accepted because the Principal pitied him,” Tommy said. “Lucius only gets by because of the color of his skin.”
Tommy spat at Lucius’ feet and turned around to march away.
“Hey, Tommy,” Bruce started.
Bruce grabbed Tommy by the shoulder, spun him right, and delivered a right cross. The single hit threw Tommy to the ground and the racist cunt was out cold immediately.
“Bruce!” Lucius shouted.
“Talia, we need to go,” one of her friends said.
Talia grabbed Bruce’s hand and looked up at him.
“We’re having a graduation party at my summer home,” Talia said. “I’d love to see you there.”
Talia was pulled away. Bruce felt something in his hand. He opened it and looked at the piece of paper. Talia’s address was written on it. Bruce looked out and slid the paper into his pocket as school security approached him.

The Gotham Academy Principal’s office. The head of the school’s office was regal and decorated with antiquities. There were masks on the wall from various cultures. Books in various languages. Primarily non fiction. Bruce was sitting in a chair, and his father, Thomas Wayne, was next to him in his wheelchair.
“The Elliot’s have agreed not to press charges, again,” the Principal explained.
“I guess that’s something,” Thomas noted.
Hugo leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers.
“It’s not the Elliot’s that worry me,” Hugo said. “It’s Bruce.”
“Listen, it won’t happen again,” Thomas apologized.
Hugo Strange lifted his hand and waved. He was wearing a black turtleneck, a black coat, and black pants. With small round glasses. Hugo’s head was shaved, and his chin beard was trimmed and neat.
“Thomas,” Hugo started. “Your son isn’t manageable.”
“Hey, Bruce is a good kid,” Thomas argued.
Hugo turned to Bruce.
“Are you remorseful?” Hugo asked.
Bruce looked up.
“Excuse me?” Bruce asked.
“These repeated instances of violence require some level of regret,” Hugo explained.
“I don’t regret it,” Bruce said.
“Bruce,” Thomas started.
“He’s a racist fucker,” Bruce explained. “I would hit him again.”
Thomas lowered his head and shook it.
“Dad, it’s what you would do,” Bruce said.
“I wouldn’t hit a student,” Thomas said.
“You know what I mean,” Bruce said.
Hugo stood up.
“I have observed Bruce’s increase in violent outbursts,” Hugo said. “I have to think of my students safety.”
“Bruce is not-“ Thomas started.
Hugo held his hand up.
“Bruce Wayne will be expelled. Effective immediately,” Hugo said.
Bruce stood up and laid his Gotham Academy jacket on the Principal’s table. Then the young Bruce Wayne turned and walked out of the office. Bruce heard his father calling for him, but he ignored it and closed the door. Bruce walked out of the school and closed his eyes and breathed.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne had left the Principal’s office. Thomas shook his head but didn’t chase after him. Bruce wasn’t angry. He didn’t storm off. He just left. Thomas knew he needed to give his son a minute.
Thomas lifted his head up and looked at Hugo Strange, the man was standing against the window, the sun setting against the red sky, Hugo looked almost villainous. The Principal was standing with his arms behind his back, quietly contemplating.
“My son isn’t dangerous to anyone,” Thomas said.
“Oh?” Hugo asked. “Are you sure about that, Mister Wayne?”
Thomas tilted his head.
“No one innocent,” Thomas considered. “You and I both know that Elliot kid earned it.”
Hugo laughed and turned to face Thomas.
“Perhaps,” Hugo said. “But being a man in society means biting your tongue. It means behaving.”
Thomas laughed.
“Then you and I have different definitions of being a man,” Thomas said.
“Your son lacks the strength to control himself,” Hugo warned.
Thomas turned his wheelchair around and rolled toward the door.
“My son is stronger than you know,” Thomas said.
Thomas opened the door and slowly rolled himself out of the Principal’s office. Hugo Strange watched him as the door creaked slowly and snapped shut. Then Hugo sat down at his desk and retrieved a file labeled BRUCE WAYNE, Hugo took the file and slid it into his bag that was sitting on the floor next to his desk.

Night had fallen on Gotham City, police blimps patrolled the skies, their spotlights dancing through the buildings and the streets. Lucius had picked Bruce up in his car and the pair were headed to Talia al Ghul’s home for her graduation party for the seniors of Gotham Academy.
Talia’s home was on the mainland, north of Founders Island, Lucius was driving across the Kevin Conroy Memorial Bridge as he and Bruce sat in silence. Lucius finally looked at Bruce and then back toward the road.
“Thank you,” Lucius said.
Bruce was staring out of the window, but he leaned back and looked at Lucius. He half smiled and gave Lucius the nod. And then he gave Lucius a thumbs up.
“Don’t mention it,” Bruce said.
Lucius shook his head.
“No, I’m serious Bruce; you’re always good to others,” Lucius said. “You’re braver than I am,” Lucius tilted his head. “Crazier, too, but I love you, man.”
Bruce nodded.
“I love you, too,” Bruce said.
Lucius arrived at the address that Bruce had provided; it was an exotic and beautiful house. Honestly, it was more like a castle. Elaborate, expensive, manicured. It was stunning to witness even late at night as the lights shined upon it.
Lucius whistled.
“Damn,” Lucius said.
“Maybe I get a sugar momma tonight,” Bruce joked.
“Don’t screw it up,” Lucius laughed.
Bruce and Lucius got out of Lucius’ car, a modest blue four door. The pair proceeded up the walkway and along the decorated path. Senior students were all ready out and about. It was loud, booze was being passed around, a number of senior students were shouting. It sounded like there was a pool behind the house.
Bruce and Lucius reached the gigantic double doors at the front of the house, and it was unlocked. Bruce pushed it open and the pair strolled inside. There was a massive chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling and a spiraling staircase. There was a ring as the door opened and Talia stepped around the corner.
Talia was wearing shorts and a black tank top. She was barefoot and her long hair was down and falling past her shorts.
“Bruce!” Talia shouted and rushed toward him. “You came!”
“That’s what she said,” Bruce said.
Lucius shook his head.
“Oh, my God,” Lucius breathed.
Talia stopped inches from Bruce, her mouth open and her shining eyes narrowed. She looked up at Bruce and laughed.
“Come to the kitchen, playboy,” Talia said.
Talia grabbed Bruce by his hand and pulled him into the kitchen, with Lucius in tow, carefully following behind them. Julie Madison was sitting on the kitchen counter, her wavy red hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. She was wearing only a bikini. Julie had been taking a shot, and when the trio came into the kitchen, she offered some to them.
Bruce shook his head, but Lucius was happy to oblige. Talia watched Bruce carefully, every little detail, every moment.
“You don’t drink?” Talia asked.
“I don’t,” Bruce answered. “I’m too much of a lightweight.”
Talia leaned into Bruce.
“Maybe you don’t like losing control,” Talia suggested.
Bruce narrowed his blue gray eyes and tilted his head.
“I know when to let someone take over,” Bruce said.
“Oh,” Talia smiled. “You let them? What if they take what they want?”
“Then I wanted them to take it,” Bruce said.
Julie hopped off the kitchen counter and pulled Lucius to the back of the house.
“Let’s leave them to it, bud,” Julie said and chuckled.
Julie dragged Lucius through the kitchen and toward the open patio doors at the back of the house. Talia looked around at all of the noise. She nodded her head toward the staircase.
“Come on,” Talia said.
Talia held Bruce’s hand and led him to the staircase, she hurried up the stairs with Bruce in tow. Wrapping around the wall, Talia led Bruce to the back of the house on the second floor. She pulled Bruce to a balcony that overlooked the pool below. It was a massive pool that stretched across the backyard and was incredibly deep. The water sparkled but few people were in it at that moment.
Talia pressed her back against the balcony railing and Bruce stumbled forward and leaned his arms against the balcony. Talia dropped her head back. She tilted her head and looked at Bruce.
“Who are you? Really?” Talia asked.
Bruce looked out over the pool and towards the trees in the distance that surrounded the property.
“What you need,” Bruce said flatly.
“And what do I need?” Talia asked.
Bruce stood up and leaned toward Talia.
“The one thing your dad’s money can’t buy you,” Bruce whispered.
“Which is?”
“Surprise,” Bruce answered.
Bruce kicked off his shoes and threw off his shirt. He pulled himself on to the balcony railing. Then he looked down at Talia.
“Unless you’re scared,” Bruce pointed out.
Bruce leaped over the balcony, diving into the pool below. Water splashed and the crowd of students erupted in howls and cheers and claps. Talia watched, purely stunned, her mouth agape. Talia threw off her tank top, still wearing a bra and leaped in after Bruce.
Talia gasped as she emerged from the water and shook her head. She floated next to Bruce, her heart racing. She was close to him now, her body pressing against his.
“Is this where you let me take over?” Talia asked.
She grabbed Bruce by the back of the neck and pulled his head down to her, and she pressed his lips against hers. Bruce’s hands slid down her waist and his fingers stopped at the edge of Talia’s shorts.
Talia pulled away to breathe and watch Bruce, her eyes locked with his. Then Lucius burst through the doors of the pool house, a black girl with a short pixie cut followed him out. Lucius was holding his pants, his shirt was unbuttoned, and he had whipped cream on his head.
“Bruce!” Lucius exclaimed.
Bruce shook his head, wiped his eyes, and looked up at Lucius.
“What are you doing?” Bruce asked.
“This girl is a freak,” Lucius said.
“Then get back in there,” Bruce encouraged.
Lucius shook his head.
“Absolutely not. I’m not ready for this,” Lucius said.
“You’re leaving?” Bruce asked,
Lucius nodded.
“I’m going home, man! You coming?” Lucius asked.
Talia looked at Bruce.
“You can stay,” Talia said.
Bruce looked at Talia and then looked at Lucius.
“I’m going to stay,” Bruce stammered.
Lucius looked at Talia and then he looked at Bruce. Lucius completely understood and gave Bruce a weird, almost perfect smile.
“You get it,” Lucius whispered.
“You know I can hear you?” Talia pointed out.
Lucius shook his head and ran off. Bruce’s eyes were wide as he watched Lucius stumble away and through the house. When he turned to look back at Talia, she was slowly climbing out of the pool. Talia had grabbed a towel and was drying her hair as Bruce swam toward her and jumped out of the pool himself.
“I’m wet,” Talia said.
Bruce blushed.
Talia looked at Bruce with intense eyes.
“We should get out of these clothes,” Talia suggested.
Bruce nodded.
Talia led Bruce through the house and back up the stairs. Toward the back of the house and a room at the end of a hallway on the left. This was Talia’s room. It was relatively plain. Bruce closed the door and when he turned around Talia had tossed aside her towel and was unclasping her bra.
Talia looked at Bruce.
“Help me get the rest off,” Talia ordered.
Bruce smiled. He grabbed her aggressively, closed his eyes, and bit her neck.

Chapter Text

Dawn. Morning over Gotham City. It was a beautiful, comfortable Saturday morning. The students that had stayed had collapsed through out the house. Some had fallen asleep on benches on the property. Some had fallen asleep on various pieces of patio furniture. A couple were sleeping on a table. Some just sprawled out on the rug in the backyard.
Bruce Wayne stirred. His eyes were closed, he was wrapped in silky soft gray sheets. The window in Talia’s room was open and the morning light was shining inside. Bruce groaned as the light emerged through the window and woke him from his sleep.
As Bruce kept his eyes tightly shut he turned over in the bed and scooted toward Tali. The bed, of course, was huge and glamorous. But he wasn’t finding Talia. He scooted more. Nothing. Bruce stretched out his hand and rubbed along the sheets, his fingers over the edge of the bed. Then Bruce’s eyes finally shot open. Talia was not in the bed.
Bruce was suddenly alert and awake. He jolted up in the bed and looked around. The room was pristine, but empty. He threw away the covers and stumbled out of the bed. The scars on Bruce’s arms were evident in the morning light. Again he stumbled as his feet laid on the chilly hardwood floor.
Bruce looked around for his black boxers, discovered them atop a lamp, and quickly slid them on. Bruce’s pants had dried, so he pulled those on. His cell phone had fallen out of his pocket, but he retrieved it and checked the battery. It was on and still working. Then Bruce grabbed his socks and finally put on his shoes. Bruce left the room and retrieved his black shirt from the patio.
Once he was fully dressed, Bruce started looking around. He whispered and poked through the rooms on the second floor. Slowly making his way to the staircase. There were a few sleepers on the second floor, and one student was asleep on the stairs. Bruce carefully moved around them.
He very deliberately navigated down the stairs, his head darting around, looking for any signs of life or movement. At the base of the stairs there was more sleepers. Bruce started in the living room. The sofa was packed, but Talia was not there.
Then Bruce moved on through the first floor of the home. He had not discovered Talia in any of the rooms. When he reached the ed of one side of the house, Bruce turned and strolled down toward the kitchen. Maybe Talia had been hungry and she was preparing breakfast.
He moved into the kitchen, a few students were sleeping on the floor. And Julie was sleeping on one of the large kitchen counters. Bruce looked around, passing them by, opening the walk in pantry, and discovering no signs that Talia was anywhere nearby.
Finally, at the edge of the kitchen, Bruce turned and approached Julie Madison. The red head sleeping on the counter. And one of the fellow eighteen year old seniors that Bruce had seen Talia with ever since she transferred to Gotham Academy.
Bruce was very careful as he approached Julie. Once he was next to her, Bruce gently laid his hand on Julie’s bare shoulder and he shook her slowly.
“Julie,” Bruce whispered.
Julie groaned.
“Julie,” Bruce repeated.
Julie groaned.
“Wake up,” Bruce ordered.
Julie moaned and slowly opened her eyes.
“Bruce? What do you want?” Julie asked.
“Talia,” Bruce started. “Have you seen her?”
“Yeah,” Julie confirmed. “She left this morning.”
“Left?” Bruce asked.
“Talia’s father was putting her on a plane to China,” Julie explained.
Bruce tilted his head.
“That’s why she threw this party,” Julie said.
Bruce was confused.
“Because she was leaving,” Julie said.
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“I thought you knew,” Julie said.
“I-I didn’t,” Bruce stammered.
Julie slowly sat up on the kitchen counter. One eye open, another eye barely open. Julie was digging around the counter.
“I had it somewhere,” Julie said.
“What?” Bruce asked.
“Hold the fuck on,” Julie groaned.
Julie shuffled through the trash and the clothes she was laying on. Julie lifted the shirt and shorts that she had turned into a pillow. Then Julie dug into the pockets of the shorts. She ultimately discovered the paper she was looking for and snatched it from the pocket of the shorts.
“Talia wanted me to give this to you,” Julie said.
Julie presented the paper to Bruce. He looked at her hand, he looked at Julie, and then he settled on the letter. Bruce slowly took the letter from her and nodded.
“Thanks,” Bruce said quietly.
“No problem,” Julie muttered.
Then Julie waved him away.
“Now let me get some sleep,” Julie complained.
Bruce shook his head dismissively and turned around. Julie was stuffing her makeshift pillow back under her head as she laid down on the kitchen counter and fell back to sleep. Her snoring began just as Bruce was leaving the kitchen.
Bruce moved through the sleeping bodies, toward the front door. He really just wanted to escape, to get out. He needed some space to clear his head. Bruce pushed the heavy front door open, it dinged, and he emerged outside. He carefully and slowly pulled the door closed behind him. Then he pressed his back to the door and exhaled. It felt like he hadn’t actually breathed since waking up.
Bruce strolled down the stairs and sat down. He leaned his back against a pillar that stretched up from the stairs to the covered patio. He fumbled with the piece of paper in his hands. He was terrified to open it, terrified to look at it. He didn’t even want to read it. But he knew he had to. Bruce had to take that step.
Bruce sighed, he stopped playing with the letter in his hands and finally held it between both his hands. He lowered his head and his eyes trailed down to look at the sealed letter. Written in a beautiful cursive, “Beloved”.
Bruce bit his lower lip and flipped the letter open, unfolding the various bits of pieces of paper. He straightened out the letter and rubbed away the wrinkles and folds that had settled in. And he read the short message;
“You did more than surprise me, Beloved. You will be in my memories. Always and forever.”
Bruce sighed. He folded the paper up and carefully slid it into the pocket of his jeans. Bruce leaned his head back and laid it against the pillar. For a moment, Bruce closed his eyes and just felt the sun against him as he shed a tear.

Founders Island. Bustling on a Saturday, the market was open, citizens were shopping. Police were patrolling. The blimps ever present in the skies of Gotham City. The sun had long settled into the sky, slowly descending, when Bruce finally arrived in Old Gotham. He had walked for hours. But Bruce knew Gotham better than anyone.
Bruce strolled through Old Gotham, slowly making his way to his house. He politely waved at the older neighbors that had lived in their homes for decades and had retired. He walked past kids playing on the sidewalk and avoided their games.
When Bruce reached his home, he stopped at the base of the ramp that had been installed. And Bruce Wayne just stared at the front door of his home. He inhaled and held his breath, then he finally exhaled and marched up the ramp. Bruce retrieved his keys and let himself inside.
Once Bruce was inside the house, he slowly kicked his shoes off at the door and hung his keys on the hanger by the front door. Bruce strolled down the hall and walked through the living room and toward his bedroom.
“Hey,” Thomas called out.
Thomas rolled himself out of his own bedroom. Bruce stopped just before his door.
“Where the hell have you been?” Thomas asked.
Bruce turned around, but he wasn’t looking at his dad.
“I was at a party,” Bruce answered.
“And you couldn’t text me?” Thomas asked.
“My phone died,” Bruce said. He retrieved his phone and showed that it wasn’t turning on.
Thomas narrowed his eyes as he looked at his young son.
“Have you been crying?” Thomas asked.
“It was a long day,” Bruce said.
Thomas tilted his head.
“Come here,” Thomas said.
Bruce lingered in his spot.
“Don’t make me get out of this chair,” Thomas said.
Bruce shook his head. He turned on his heel and slowly walked toward Thomas, but he was watching his own feet.
“What is it?” Bruce asked.
“I’m not going to fight the expulsion,” Thomas said.
“It’s just another thing I ruined,” Bruce muttered.
Thomas leaned forward.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Thomas said. “You stood up against a bully. You did the right thing. And fuck anyone who says differently.”
Bruce squeezed his lips together, his eyes swelling with tears. Bruce just nodded silently. He didn’t want to say anything.
“I’m sorry I let you down, Bruce,” Thomas said.
“You didn’t let me down, dad,” Bruce said.
“Then why won’t you ever look at me?” Thomas asked.
Bruce started crying and he closed his eyes.
“Because I did this to you,” Bruce revealed. “I brought you and mom to school that day. You’re in that because of me.”
Thomas rolled forward. He reached Bruce and extended his arms. Thomas pulled Bruce down toward him and hugged him.
“You didn’t do this to us,” Thomas said. “A man with a gun did this to our family. If someone wasn’t there to stop him, we could have lost you. Dozens of families at that school would have been destroyed.”
“Then why do I feel like this?” Bruce asked.
Thomas held Bruce’s head.
“You experienced a tragedy that no one should ever have to,” Thomas explained. “You were a child, Bruce.”
“Why do I feel so guilty?” Bruce asked.
“You saved lives that day, Bruce,” Thomas said. “You have no reason to feel guilty. You’re a hero.”
Thomas cried as he hugged his son.
“But mom,” Bruce started.
“Mom wanted you to live,” Thomas snapped. “Don’t let her sacrifice burden you. Mom was a hero, just like you. And she saved you.”
Bruce pulled away from his father. Slowly, Bruce opened his eyes and he looked at Thomas Wayne, his father. Thomas was holding his son’s face and crying. Bruce’s weary eyes were opened.