Chapter Text

Chapter One - Batgirl Begins

Stephanie really hates Gotham. It takes everything good and kills it—or scares it halfway across the world to never return, leaving her in the God-less shithole alone. You would think that friends would at least offer to take you with them when running away from Hell itself, but none of hers had given her the courtesy. 

So, yeah, Bruce was dead. Tim and Cass had run away to somewhere far, far, away (without so much as a goodbye to her, just friggin’ text messages.) But she wasn’t bitter, or lost, or grieving, no sirrie. 

Jason was still here. But he had a “shoot bats on sight” rule going on right now. Either he hated Bruce more than she thought, or his death had finally gotten rid of any sentiment the man had left in him. 

Everything was so wrong. She’d thought she’d found her people. A family that she could rely on. But it was gone now, everyone either dead, or finally decided she just wasn’t worth keeping around. 

She sighed deeply and leaned against the gargoyle behind her. At night, Gotham didn’t look too bad. Building so high they touched the stars, lights twinkling like a christmas tree, and just the slightest fog that made it seem majestic. 

She could almost pretend everything was fine. That nothing was changed, that it was just another Tuesday patrol. She could almost imagine Tim’s voice over comms asking for her batburger order, Bruce’s amused huff, and the petty siblings squabbling over the line. 

But there was only silence—nothing. 

*

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*

It took a week for Dick to come to her. He looked halfway to hell, eye bags so dark they looked sharpied on, hair so greasy that it looked wet and clothes that he must’ve been wearing for days. He looked truly pathetic standing in her doorway. 

“Hey, Steph,” he said, slightly breathless. 

She grimaced. “What do you want?”

There was no reason to beat around the bush. She and him had never been close. Cordial, for sure. Occasional prank buddies, undoubtedly. But they were never family in the way she’d been with the others. 

He winced. “Sorry, I deserve that. I should’ve checked up on you sooner.”

She grunted. Maybe. But she hadn’t checked in on him either, so she’d be a hypocrite to hold that against him. 

He let out a fullbody sigh, looking utterly exhausted. “These last few weeks have been a lot and—with everyone off doing their own thing I can’t…things are tough, and I can’t do them alone. I need your help, Steph. I really, really, need your help.”

She leaned back, reeling. 

Dick had always been the epitome of cool and collected. He always had a grin and quip even in the most dire of situations. In times of crisis, people looked to him before even Bruce. It was just—if there was anyone she’d never dreamed would come begging her for help, it would never have been Dick Grayson, original Boy Wonder and all around golden boy. 

With a seconds hesitation, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into her shitty apartment, slamming the door shut behind them. 

“What do you need?”

Maybe this time, Dick wasn’t the one who would be able to shoulder all the crap going on. Maybe this time, Steph would help. Maybe she would be the one to keep the family together, no matter how small it was. Because at the end of the day, no she and Dick hadn’t been best friends, but that didn’t take away the fact that he’d bled for her, and she him. That was about as close as people could get. 

And dammit, Steph just wanted a family, and if that meant it was just her and Dick (and maybe that weird kid who’d appeared a little bit before Bruce died) then so be it. 

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*

“You want me to be your Batgirl?”

“Please say yes.”

*

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*

She says yes. 

This—this she could do. Not as well as Cass (who had gone somewhere in Asia leaving Steph all alone—) but she could do it. If this was what Dick needed, she’d do it the best she could. 

Because she wouldn’t abandon her family. She’d stick by him and help him keep everything together, because no one else would. 

*

*

*

Damian Wayne is even more surly than his father and had enough arrogance to make the wealthiest socialite look as humble as a monk. He sneered, he scoffed, and sometimes even screamed. 

“I don’t see why we need another member, Batman,” the brat sniveled again. 

It was hard to find him threatening when he was just a little kid with spikey hair. If anything, he just reminded her of one of her old friends' kid brother. All bark and no bite. It probably spoke to how messed in the head she was that the death threats were almost endearing. 

(She still was a little pissed about him trying to kill Tim, but if she ever saw that prick again it was on sight. So, she couldn’t really judge him for it. That much.)

“Yes, dearest Bat-sir, why do you need me? I am nothing but a common wretch,” she said dramatically, clutching her pearls. 

She got the barest twitch of the lips from Dick and counted it as a success. These days, a real smile or laugh was a rare thing among the depressingly small bat-clan. 

“She’s a valuable member of our team, Robin. Remember, Batman doesn’t fight alone. He needs a team in order to keep this massive city safe. And treat her with some respect, you might learn something,” Dick said. His tone was soft, though. It was the complete opposite of Bruce—calming where he was sharp. Soft where he was hard…Steph liked it. 

He completed it by ruffling Damian’s absurdly spikey hair and left the kid spluttering. 

(In the farthest recesses of her mind, one she didn’t dare acknowledge, she had to admit that Dick was far better for Damian than Bruce could’ve ever been. Not because Bruce was a bad man, but because sometimes he just didn’t understand. He wouldn’t understand that Damian wasn’t disrespectful, but terrified. He would meet harshness with harshness and it would end with blood. But Dick—he understood, somehow, this crazy murder child that had been dropped into his lap, and was actually somehow making it work.)

“Yes, small child, listen to your elders,” she intoned seriously. “For we are wise and trustworthy indeed.”

Damian rolled his eyes so hard she was surprised they didn’t fall out of his skull. “If you are among the wise, I fear for the uniformed.”

She chuckled. “Don’t put yourself down like that, kid. You gotta be more confident.”

She grappled-hooked away before he could attack her, but he could hear his screeches as she swung.  

Yeah, the kid wasn’t half bad. 

*

*

*

Laying around the Penthouse was depressing. She’d basically moved into the place since becoming Batgirl (she was always too tired to get back to her apartment after patrol and just crashed in a room beside Dick and Damian’s.) It had none of the soul that the Manor did. Maybe that was the point. No one wanted to be around all those reminders of what they’d lost.

The Penthouse was something out of a bad movie. It felt like a movie set. There were no pictures or paintings on the wall, or chipped mugs with a dozen stories behind them.  There were no bumps in the walls or scratches on the floors, or even stains on the carpets. Everything was perfectly clean and brand new. 

It was utterly depressing. 

They needed to get out ASAP.

“Hey, what if we go to the zoo? That would be fun, I figure Murder-Child hasn’t been to one before,” Steph said aloud from where she lay starfished on the ridiculously large couch. 

Damian, who sat atop a bookshelf reading a book like the little weirdo he was, grunted. “I have never been to one, no. My mother never saw the point. And I resent that nickname, Fatgirl.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. Surprisingly, Damian rarely tried to actually hurt her. He liked throwing daggers in her general direction but they were always just off enough that she knew he was intentionally missing. He was getting all sentimental in his old age, it was sweet. 

She turned her gaze to Dick. The trap had been laid, and she knew he’d fall for it. The guy had a blindspot a mile wide concerning Damian. 

He hummed. “I think that’s a great idea! I haven’t been in a while either. I’ll go tell Alfred we’re going.”

Hook, line, and sinker. 

“Eventually, you’re going to have to find a better way to manipulate Grayson other than utilizing my unordinary upbringing,” Damian drawled. 

She wasn’t surprised he’d caught onto her schemes. He was pint-sized but deadly smart. 

“Nah,” she shrugged. “Dick will never get tired of trying to give you a semi-normal childhood. I think it’ll work until your late teens,  at least. If we push it, we might be able to milk this into your twenties. He can’t resist your adorable little face.”

Damian scowled. “Must you torment me so? If we were in the League I’d have you whipped for that comment.”

She waved the threat away. “Come on, Damian, I thought you were more practical than this. Just think—imagine how much we can use this. I know your diabolical mind can come up with so many things we can use this for.”

He tilted his head, considering. “I suppose what you say has merit.”

She grinned devilishly. “Now you see the way, my young apprentice. But there is still so much to learn.”

For the first time, Damian looked at her with something close to respect. 

*

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*

Dick buys them all matching shirts (including a longsuffering Alfred) and they each choose a plushy. Steph thinks that's because he wanted Damian to be comfortable picking one out himself, but regardless, she picked out a T-Rex one that is entirely anatomically incorrect and has Damian ranting for about twenty minutes about how pop culture has ruined Dinosaurs. 

Damian himself picks out a large cow plushy, and announces that he wants a real one. He was such a fast learner—she was so proud of her young apprentice. 

Damian runs around the place in awe, acting like a child instead of an old grouchy grandpa for the first time in his life. He drags Dick around by his hand, pointing at every animal he sees and spouting out insane knowledge about them like it's his profession. 

Dick seems to be in awe of it. The fact that Damian is willingly touching someone for something other than violence, the wonder in his voice and the joy in his eyes. She’d be lying if she wasn’t just as touched by it. 

For the first time since Bruce died and everything went to shit, she feels good. 

She feels like she has a family again. 

*

*

*

When Dick goes down, she swears her heart stops. 

She doesn’t see it happen, and isn't even in the same building when it happens. But when Damian screams, “BATMAN!” She just knows. She’s running before she even knows what she’s doing. 

When she reaches them, all the combatants are down, possibly bleeding out, and Damian is desperately pressing into Dick’s side trying to stop the bleeding. 

“Batgirl, HELP!” 

There was real fear in Damian's voice—real terror.

It felt like a physical blow. She lands on her knees beside them and scooches into Damian’s side and assesses the damage. 

“Gone shot wound, glock, from less than two feet away from the entrance wound,” Damian rattles off before she can ask. “I’ve already staunched the bleeding the best I can but—”

But that isn’t good enough, she finishes for him.

Her hands are shaking and she feels like she’s about to throw up, but she keeps it together the best she can. She will not be losing another family. 

“Go get the Bat-mobile, we need to get him to the cave. Call Alfred and get Leslie on standby. I’ll watch over him,” she orders sternly. 

Damian’s face is set into a grim line and he nods, running off on shaking legs to go get the Bat-mobile. 

She put pressure on the wound and Dick groaned beneath her. His blood seeped through her finger tips. There is panic humming through her veins and it is taking everything in her to not start sobbing. Somehow, their little family had come together. Somehow, they had rebuilt from the ashes of the last one. It wouldn’t be fair if it fell apart so soon, if she lost another one. 

The Bat-mobile came swinging into view, and Damian jumped out and helped her drag Dick’s large frame into the car. 

She nodded at the wheel. “Drive.”

Out of the two of them, she didn’t doubt that Damian would be faster. Something about his mother and combat driving training. And they needed every second. 

He hopped in the front without another word and she crawled in the back on top of Dick keeping pressure on the wound. 

If Gotham took another person away from her, she’d burn the city to the ground. The Hell-forsaken place had already taken enough, it wouldn’t get Dick. 

*

*

*

Dick was in surgery for ten hours. 

It was very, very close, but he made it. 

Stephanie had finally broken down once they got the news, finally allowing herself to cry. She hugged her arms to herself and sobbed, dropping to her knees. She should be crying of relief, or joy, or something. But Dick had come so very close to dying. To being gone forever.  If he’d lost even an ounce more blood, he’d be dead and her and Damian would be left to pick up the pieces. 

She’d almost been anticipating it. Because, surely, that was how crap their luck was. They’d been too happy, too close to moving on from the past. 

Damian sat quietly beside her. He didn’t touch her or offer words of comfort. That wasn’t his nature, but it was enough. She leaned her head on his shoulder, sniffling. 

“He’s alright,” she said.

“Yes.”

“He’s going to be fine.”

“Of course.”

“But he almost wasn’t.”

“...It was close,” he whispered. 

“To close,” she finished. “We can’t let it happen again. Ever. We’re in this together, we can’t lose anymore people.”

“Never again,” Damian said, voice deathly cold. “We must protect Grayson…and each other.”

She slung an arm around his stiff shoulders. “Never again,” she echoed. 

*

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*

They didn’t mention Dick almost dying. They didn’t comment on Damian’s broken fingers that he’d gotten from punching a concrete wall repeatedly when Dick’s heart had stopped for the first time. They don’t mention Steph officially moving into the Penthouse or her perpetually red eyes. They just move on, a silent pact between them. 

*

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*

Six months into her being Batgirl, Damian disappears. 

Kidnapped, actually, by his own mother. She didn’t approve of Dick taking over his training after Bruce died. Said he was inadequate and a load of other bullshit. Then, she planted a bomb somewhere in Lower Gotham to distract her and Dick while she got her slimy hands on Damian. 

They don’t take it well. 

The sounds Dick makes will haunt her nightmares—the inhumane sounds of pain at the realization that their littlest bird had gone back to his abusive bitch mother was a stab to the heart.

She might’ve screamed herself hoarse, but that was besides the point. 

They’d both seen Damian’s scars, so thick and so numbered it was harder to find unblemished skin than not on his small body. They both knew what the League would do to him. They both knew they’d rather die than for that to happen. 

“We have to get him back,” Dick whispered, voice rough. 

“We will,” she promised. There was no other option. They would find him and they would bring him home safely. And then maybe blow up a few League buildings. 

Dick choked back a sob. “But it won’t be soon enough, will it?”

She knew what he meant. No matter how fast they were, Damian was going to be hurt by the League's hands. Probably already had been. It didn’t matter that he was a child, barely in the double digits. Or that he was possibly the most kind hearted person she’d ever met (as long as he liked you or you were an animal), the League didn’t care. They would beat him just for fun and laugh as they made him scream. 

“No. But it’ll have to be enough.”

*

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*

They ask Tim for help.

He doesn’t respond.

Neither does Cass. 

Or Jason.

*

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She doesn’t know if she’ll ever forgive them for that. 

*

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*

It takes them two weeks to track Damian down. He’s emancipated, bloody, bruised, but he still has that fire in his eyes. They did not break Damian Wayne, no matter how hard they tried. 

When he sees them, he grins, bloody and feral. “I knew you’d come.”

Because they were family.  They would always come.

Dick takes the chains off of him and crushes him in a hug. “I missed you, Little D.”

Steph is a step behind them, reaching but not touching. 

“Blinded by sentiment as usual,” Damian scoffed halfheartedly. His eyes reached hers and with the slightest tilt of his head he invited her into their hug. She shuffles over, laying her arm carefully over his shoulders. 

“He always was a fuddy duddy,” Steph mocked. “He’s a disgrace to our family line.”

“I do not know why we put up with him,” Damian said, chin tilted up slightly. 

Steph couldn’t take it a second longer and burst out laughing, Damian following soon after. 

Dick sighed. “You two. You’re lucky I love you guys, otherwise I’d let Alfred deal with both of you.”

Yeah, they were pretty lucky. 

*

*

*

They’re closer after that. Trauma bonds or whatever. Something clicked, and now it was like they were connected. They rarely needed words to communicate to each other, a simple glance able to communicate all the information. 

Damian doesn’t even threaten to kill her that much afterwards, and he only throws in daggers at her if he’s startled. 

Dick actually shares the burden with them a little—he doesn’t try to be Bruce and keep everything bottled up and shoulder everything. That more than anything shows just how much he trusts and respects them. Her and Damian do their best not to disappoint him. 

They’re a well-oiled machine in the field, working in sync on all levels. 

“We’re the best,” Damian says one night. 

Dick smiles, which is happening more and more often. “We are.”

Steph grins back. “No one can beat our team.”

And the thing is—she doesn’t even think she’s lying. 

They are the best.

They are her Robin and her Batman, more than any of the other iterations ever were. And maybe that’s harsh, but something about them all together felt right. 

She’s really, really, happy for the first time in so very long. 

She should’ve known it wouldn’t last. 

*

*

*

A year after Bruce died, Tim comes back saying he’s found him. That Bruce is alive. 

And her little family of the past year is ripped apart.