Chapter Text
I loved my job and all, but some days the clock moved in slow motion when I wanted it to fly by.
Today was one of those days and it was only nine in the morning.
Since Gotham City public schools had gotten out for the summer, the Wayne Foundation Youth Center had been a total madhouse from morning to dinner time. I had been at work for a grand total of thirty minutes and I’d already broken up a fight and gotten spat up on twice. The latter was definitely not helping this nausea I was experiencing in the slightest.
I curled up in my desk chair and sipped at my ginger ale, wishing I could take more medicine without ripping a hole in my stomach lining. Was it terrible that I was worried about that because that meant I wouldn’t get to eat leftover wedding cake for Tim and I’s one year wedding anniversary? Not because, y’know, hole in stomach would likely mean death. The cake was that good.
“Stephanie?” My assistant, Nell popped her head into my office. “You have a visitor. Apparently he’s from the board or something?”
I paused, trying to remember my schedule, but my brain was totally fried from a late patrol the night before. I wondered how I’d gotten through college patrolling and taking classes, but then I remembered that I definitely sucked at doing both about 75% of the time.
“Who now?”
“Damian Wayne?” She, unlike most other nineteen year old Gothamites, didn’t say his name with a swoon attached. This, among other things like her ability to manage a bunch of different things at once, further proved that Nell was basically superhuman. No one was resistant to Damian’s good looks—he even got to me sometimes and I was basically his older sister, which felt really gross the more I thought about it.
“Send him in.” I put my soda down and ran my hands through my hair. It was getting too long. “Can you take over my walkie-talkie until I get back? It won’t be that long. Maria’s on backup, but things seem to be under control. Just message her if you need help.”
“Yeah, definitely.” She came in and grabbed the walkie-talkie, putting it on her hip before she left. The antenna pushed up her t-shirt, revealing the Bat symbol tattoo she had on her side. I still couldn’t get over the fact that she was the same little girl who idolized Batgirl, and apparently was still a big fan of me. Well, secret me.
She mostly made me feel stupid old, but I probably should have been used to that by now. I mean, I had a retirement fund and everything, so why did kids growing up freak me out? Maybe it was how mature and put together she was—she had this job after being promoted from her volunteer position and had landed a full scholarship to Gotham University. On top of that, she’d graduated at the top of her class, was the captain of both the soccer and softball teams, and the president of her student body.
If I were her age, I couldn’t even be jealous of her because she was that awesome. She was that popular girl that no one hated because she was genuinely worthy of her popularity.
Damian came strolling in as Nell left, glancing behind him. Most guys his age slobbed around in jeans and a t-shirt, but Damian always looked like he was a model out of a magazine at all times—perfectly put together outfits, hair expertly cut and styled, reasonably tidy finger nails despite using his hands so much as Robin. Today he was wearing dark wash jeans and an untucked, subtly printed button down shirt, a new gigantic, but not super flashy gold watch on his wrist.
“Your new assistant is…” He kept staring over his shoulder even though the door was closing. “…Competent.”
“Wow, a compliment right out of the gate? Are you feeling well?” I grinned. “What’s up, D?”
“You’re supposed to give me a tour, if you recall.” He raised an eyebrow, obviously not in the mood for jokes today. Not that he was a jokester all the time, but he’d loosened up quite a bit in the past years.
“Oh.” I took a second to sip my drink again before standing. “For the board, right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. They seem to think that being closer to a child’s age means having an interest in children, which is a ridiculous string of logic. I need to make sure no one’s dying of infected wounds and the like, then report back.”
I led him into the hallway, unsure if the ‘infected wounds’ part was a true diss or not. You could never tell with Damian. “What do you need to see?”
“Just take me around the places that get frequently used.”
“So, everything?” I started toward the outdoor play area, which was at the end of the hallway. “Here’s a start. This is where most of the kids hang out in the morning before it gets disgustingly hot.”
He followed me, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t even looking around. “How long has that girl been your assistant?”
“Just a few weeks or so now. She’s been a volunteer here for two or so years, but she did such a good job that we hired her.” I glanced up at him. “Why?”
“Your past assistants have been so…” He paused. “…Overly accommodating.”
I snorted, pushing open the door. Warm air came rushing in, which somehow made me even queasier. “So she didn’t fall all over the place to please you and that bothers you?”
“It didn’t bother me.” He said this quietly, but before I could prod him more, he asked, “Are these structures actually safe for use?”
“Well, yeah. No one’s fallen and gotten hurt because the jungle gym didn’t hold up.” They were a bit old, though.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped out a few words. Judging from the furrow in his brow, he was not impressed. “Let’s move on.”
So, we did. We passed by the two-and-unders room, where the toddlers and babies were, then the quiet reading area and the tutoring booths. Damian took more notes, most of his comments semi-snarky, as was his custom. But at least there was a playfulness to it that he didn’t used to have because I wouldn’t have been able to take him being an ass about this place. It was too close to my heart.
“And finally, the gym.” I gestured to the door down the hall. “It’s in pretty good shape since we got the floors redone three years ago, so you probably won’t have to stay—“
“Move, please!” Nell shouted from behind us, shoving Damian aside to get to the gym. “Steph, need your help!”
Damian looked stunned, as did I, but the urgency in Nell’s voice told me to snap out of it and get in there. I followed and had to make my way through a crowd of kids to get to the problem. Nell was already administering CPR to the child who was passed out and blue on the floor. Maria, who was my second in command, was on the phone, presumably with 911. I kneeled next to the kid, feeling my stomach churn even more.
“What happened?” I asked Nell.
“He just went down…” She continued her compressions and checked if he was breathing.
She kept giving CPR. The boy was new—I recognized his face from his file, but not his name. Ten years old, probably, brown hair, light brown skin under the sickly blue pallor it had taken on. He had on a Pokemon t-shirt and cargo shorts. The EMTs quickly arrived and took over for Nell, who immediately moved back. Maria jumped in the ambulance with him since he knew her and would probably want a familiar face when he woke up.
If he woke up.
I couldn’t linger over the thought much longer and gathered the kids to calm them down. I slipped into crisis mode, and after some calming words and hugs, kids went back to playing and hanging out somewhat somberly. Thankfully we also had an on-staff counselor thanks to an anonymous donor, so she was probably going to get a lot of drop-in visits.
No matter how much I saw on patrol, I still couldn’t handle sick or injured kids well after the fact. I was always left a bit stunned, wondering if what had just happened was real. I only came out of it minutes after the fact, and it felt like garbage.
“I take it that doesn’t happen regularly?” Damian asked quietly, startling me.
“No.” I twisted my wedding ring around on my finger, the sweat that had accumulated on my hands making it spin easily. “But you got everything you needed to get, right?”
“Yes.” He put his phone back into his pocket and looked around the gym for a moment. “Are you going to come out tonight?”
“It’s Tim and I’s anniversary, so probably not. Plus I need a little breather after today.” Plus Tim was still recovering from a stab wound to the shoulder that inhibited his movement and he was getting burnt out at work. So it would probably be fancy takeout, cake, and sex if we managed to stay awake after dinner.
God, we were such old people. But then again, I guess that was better than a lot of the crap we’d been through together.
Damian made a face. Even after all this time, he still pretended that he hated Tim, but I could tell that he truly didn’t anymore. “I’ll walk myself out.”
I followed him anyway. Damian made good use of Bruce’s mostly-for-show car collection—today he was driving a black Bentley convertible. A few of his sketchbooks sat in the front seat, along with a pack of pens.
Before he pulled off, he said, “Tell your assistant that I’m inviting her to the auction event this weekend.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Nell?”
“Yes, Nell. The tall black girl with curly hair in a ponytail. The one who brought me to your office.” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s just sudden for a girl you’ve seen for a total of five minutes.” I grinned.
He shrugged. “I wanted to thank her for her help.”
“Again, for a total of five minutes?”
He rolled his eyes and put on his mirrored sunglasses. “Quality over quantity.”
“Mmmhm.” He would have looked calm to anyone else, but I could see a little nervous twinge in his jaw and hands. Interesting. “Does someone have a cr—“
He pulled off abruptly. Damn sports cars.
I went back inside to my office to tackle some of the paperwork I needed to do and Nell was standing there at the reception desk, flipping through a file. She smiled wistfully when she saw me, so different than her usual bright grin.
“Still shaken up?” I asked, grabbing a Lifesaver from the dish on the desk.
“A bit. I hope he’s okay.”
“I’ll keep you updated.” I turned to go into my office, but she made a little sound, like she was going to say something. “What was that?”
“I just…” She played with the Lifesaver wrapper. “I saw something when I was giving CPR.”
“What kind of ‘something’?”
“It was like something scuttled up his leg. Like electricity or something.” She bit on her thumbnail. “I thought I imagined it, but I saw it across his neck too.”
I paused, a sinking feeling growing in my stomach. Somehow I knew I would be talking to Babs about this—weird things didn’t happen in Gotham without it being something. Usually something bad. “Maybe he was twitching.”
She bit her nail a little longer. “Well, maybe.”
“Unrelated,” I said, forcing myself to sound a little upbeat to get her mind off it, “but Damian wanted me to ask you if you wanted to go to this auction the Wayne Foundation’s having this Friday.”
She bit her bottom lip to stop herself, but she grinned anyway. “For real? Like the fancy party with billionaires? Black tie kind of thing?”
“Indeed. Dress to the nines, free delicious food.”
She paused. “It’s not everyday that I get invited to parties by gorgeous billionaires.”
“Hah! So you do think he’s gorgeous. I thought you were way too calm when you met him.”
“Well, I have eyes.” She grinned even wider. “What’s in the water over there at the Wayne manor? Bruce Wayne is hot in a rugged older dude way, then there’s Dick Grayson—can’t even deal with all of him at once, he just needs to put his beautiful everything away—and not to mention Tim in as non-weird of a way as possible.”
I had to smile. “Tim is hot, and I would say that even if I wasn’t married to him.”
“Definitely something in the water over there.” She took a Lifesaver from the dish on my desk and unwrapped it. “I’ll go to the party, then. I’ll get another use out of my prom dress.”
—
The rest of the day was thankfully like usual—exhausting, but without serious injuries. When I got home, Tim was face down on the couch, asleep, our cat Opie curled up like a little white loaf of bread on the arm rest above his head. He was still in his work clothes, shoes off and one leg dangling to the floor. I put my purse down a little loudly, gently stirring him awake. If I woke him up by touching him when he didn’t know I was there, he would probably freak out. He stirred, looking adorably confused.
“Happy anniversary, sleeping beauty,” I said, kissing the top of his head as he propped himself up on his elbows.
“Mmm, happy anniversary.” He rolled over onto his side, his dark hair sticking up on one side. “Did you just get home?”
“Yep.” I gave Opie a scratch under her chin while Tim sat up. “How was your day?”
He gave me a quick run down—apparently today was less stressful for him—and I gave mine. I told him about what Nell saw and he frowned.
“Are you going to tell Babs?” He asked.
“Yep. I’ll text her since I’m not going out on patrol tonight.” I walked toward the kitchen, taking in the beautiful view of Gotham that we had. We lived in a penthouse, and if you told me at age fifteen that I would a) be married to my boyfriend of the time, and b) that I would technically be a billionaire, I wouldn’t have believed it.
“No patrol?” He followed me, Opie probably on his heels. She was especially attached to him even though he was the one who was reluctant to take her from a litter Damian rescued in the first place.
“No, why? Anniversary and all.” I took the cake out of the fridge. “Plus I don’t feel great.”
“Still the same as the other day?” He leaned up against the counter.
“Yeah.” I unwrapped the cake and cut us each a slice. “It’s not as bad now, so maybe it’s something I picked up from one of the kids. Or side effects from this stupid birth control patch.”
I’d gotten this new patch a month or two ago and all it had done was mess with my system. I knew I had to get used to it and all, but it still sucked. Some kind of bug from the kids was way more likely, considering how many noses I wiped and how often I got puked on.
“Maybe.” He took his cake and got out spoons. We each took a bite and chewed in silence. God, this cake was good. “I brought takeout too if you want legitimate food.”
“Yeah, sure.”
We finished our cake in comfortable silence and moved back to the living room to eat dinner in front of the TV. Eventually he started to slump into me, which then led to him snoring. I scooted over until his head was in my lap and stroked his hair. Opie climbed on the back of the couch and sat next to my head, quietly purring.
We needed more nights like this. Nothing beeping, no one getting hurt. Just sleep and cuddling and—
—And my phone started blaring with Babs’s ringtone. Of course. Tim woke up, but I pressed his head back into my lap as I answered the phone.
“Yep?”
“Are you going out tonight?” She asked. I heard her typing furiously in the background.
“No, it’s Tim and I’s anniversary. Plus I’m still feeling pretty off.” I pulled Tim’s hair into a little pigtail on the side of his head. “Why? Do you need me?”
“Not really.” She paused, more typing. Definitely not a ’nothing really’ kind of pause. “I’ll call Dinah or Cass, it’s no big deal. And happy anniversary, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I abruptly felt more nauseous. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later about something.”
“What is it?”
“Can’t talk.” I hung up and jumped up, making it to the bathroom before all of that delicious food came right back up.
I wasn’t one for believing in bad omens, but somehow I had the feeling that wasn’t a good sign.