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Bruce
When mysterious men break into the batcave one night while everyone but Alfred is out, install a landline, touch nothing else and cause no trouble aside from screwing with the security system, Bruce's curiousity outweighs his concern and he leaves it plugged in.
He's basically forgotten about it, the first time it rings.
Cautiously lifting the phone off of its resting place, disturbing the dust and a small spider as he went, Bruce simply listened instead of speaking,
“Really Batman, one would think you were expecting to be killed via the telephone.”
Ra’s al Ghul. Of course. Who else would be so bold?
“You broke into the cave and installed a phone, for what? Idle chit-chat?”
“Come, come Dark Knight. You know better than most that there is always a method, to my madness.”
“I’ll rephrase. Why are you calling at this moment?”
“I have a proposal, regarding our…relationship.”
“That's very forward of you Ra's, only a few months ago you wanted me to marry Talia.”
“As flattered as you should be if that was my proposal Bruce, it is not the case unfortunately for you.”
As Bruce listened to the villain, he thought about how in the grand scheme of things, Ra’s caused him comparatively little trouble these days, partly due to spending years plotting and planning, and had proved himself an ally when it benefited him to.
The enemy of my enemy.
And that is how Batman ended up with a direct line to Ra’s al Ghul. For emergencies only. Routed through his mobile, of course.
Dick
The phone hidden in his suit vibrated. Dick rolled his eyes, pulled it out with one hand, the other holding tightly onto the fire escape he was dangling from, and answered it with a swift swipe of the screen.
“Ra’s! What can I do for you?”
“Richard, I…is this a bad time?” The younger man had grunted as his fingers got stepped on. An involuntary sound.
“Y’know, just hanging around, bear with me for one minute?”
Dick swung over the railing of the platform using his free arm and legs, and quickly head butted the guy who had been pursuing him, and once he was down, stood on his fingers for good measure.
He stood back up straight, took a deep breath and put the phone back to his ear.
Ra’s was humming elevator music. Dick did him the courtesy of giving a small cough.
Jason
Bruce had made him carry the little phone, identical to the ones Dick and Tim carried, and he was sure the girls were made to carry them too, as part of the agreement for him coming home. B had made peace with Jason keeping control of his parts of the city, and some peace with his methods, but he had put his foot down over the phone.
They all carried them, for emergencies, Bruce had said.
Jason had argued, didn’t we have a state-of-the-art comms system and Oracle for that?
Bruce responded with a small laugh and said “Never said it was for our emergencies.”
The Red Hood actually jumped the first time the phone rang. He was in the middle of a gun fight with some bastard drug dealers from a cartel that had drifted a little close to Crime Alley. He pulled the phone out of where he kept it in his jacket and looked down.
Unknown Number. Typical. Thanks B.
Jason held up a hand for the guy running at him with a shiv, implying he was calling a time-out, and took off up the building next to him, to the roof, as his curiousity took over.
“…hello?” he said tentatively, holding the phone a little ways away, like it was a grenade, ready and primed to take his head.
“Jason, I presume? I wondered when he would give you your line. He took his time with Richard too. I’d prefer if Timothy didn’t have one, if I’m going to be honest. I get nothing but quips from him.”
“…Ra’s?”
“And I see the Batman didn’t see fit to tell you whom was at the end of the line. He really is a stellar father, I must say.”
Jason shook his head, as if shaking off the weirdness of this situation, and recovered himself, “You know I spent a lot of time with Talia, so I could say the same about you, old man.”
“Quick. I’ll give you that. Now about why I called…”
Barbara
Barbara groaned.
The only thing worse than the computer telling her that it was time to wake up, that the Joker had somehow got loose again or that she was invited to dinner at the Manor that night (which was only bad because of the food fight that would inevitably break out, meaning three showers when she got home again), was a beep telling her Ra’s was calling.
He did only call for emergencies, she reminded herself.
She clicked answer.
“Ra’s.” she said clearly, but with a bored tone, as she surfed Facebook on the next screen.
“No warmth to your greeting, Miss Gordon. Your father raised you better than that.”
“Yes Mr Al Ghul, of course Mr Al Ghul” she quipped, while she watched a puppy playing with a kitten. The internet was a wonderful place.
“If I wanted snappy comments, I would have rung Timothy.”
“Care to tell me why you’ve rung then?” The video changed to a kitten mewing into his dinner. A smile spread over Bab’s face.
“Ah yes. Well, you see, I rang Timothy already for my pressing problem, however he has reminded me of something. I was wondering if you would remotely troubleshoot my computer systems.”
Barbara covered her laugh well with a loud cough.
Tim
“Anyone heard from Ra’s in the last few days? I feel like he’s ignoring me.”
Dick strolled into the kitchen, with his coffee already in his mug, “Dude, you bruised his ego by reminding him of his computer problems, he went to Babs for a remote access fix.”
Bruce wandered in, also coffee in hand already.
Did I miss an intervention against my coffee drinking?, Tim wondered.
“You more than bruised his ego. He’s called me three times in the last two days to say I should wash your mouth out with soap and teach you some manners. He’s up in arms about the sarcasm and quippy remarks from everyone, but mostly you. Don’t think this is what he had in mind when we made this little emergency arrangement. He definitely heard Barbara laugh at him about his asking for a remote troubleshoot. He started on me with the whole “I am ancient, and knowledgeable in all things” spiel.”
Tim grinned up at Bruce, “What’d you say back?”
“Told him to go see Harley or Crane for therapy, and consult someone else for his computer problems if he didn’t want to get laughed at.”
Stephanie
“Ra’s, my dude, what is up?” Steph shouted over the loud club music.
The line went dead.
Thank God, Steph thought to herself. She pressed pause on the music, and lay back down on the bed. Her fool-proof method for getting Ra’s off the phone remained so.
Cass
“Miss Cain?”
She hummed in greeting.
“I’m aware that you’re in Bludhaven with Richard, but he is not answering my calls. How rude. Regardless, I need someone tracking down and I’m unable to do it remotely, and I do so hate to travel where the Batman can get to me and so easily break a few of my bones if he wishes. I’m sending you co-ordinates.”
Silence.
“May I send you co-ordinates?” Ra’s sounded deflated.
Cass hummed again in response to the affirmative, and hung up. No-one was impolite to Bruce’s favourite child.
Alfred
Alfred was clearing away the last of the equipment left out in the cave, which had scattered here and there as the rest of the clan had swept through, collecting this and that on their way out for the family retreat also known as recon that would require the entire family to go. As much as Alfred worried, he knew he had no reason to. They all looked after each other.
He was thinking about a nice cup of tea, and the cookies that were cooling, and the big TV in the lounge that was calling his name, when the landline by the computer rang.
Alfred groaned, knowing it could only be one person.
“Pennyworth, why is the entirety of your little operation sitting on the mountain facing my fortress with binoculars and an arsenal of equipment?”
Damian
Damian had not taken the death of his grandfather well.
The Al Ghul family was not close in a traditional sense. His mother and aunt were warriors; his grandfather was a warrior. He was a warrior.
Only right now, he didn’t feel like it.
He felt for the first time, like a child.
Ra’s al Ghul was not a warm grandfather, but he was thorough and oversaw his training personally, and granted Damian one-on-one time, more than any of the other assassins in the League. He had told him stories of his father, and their battles, and Damian had grown up not only respecting his grandfather, but had become rather fond of him too. He suspected the part of his genes that he had received from his father, the part that was not League of Assassins from zygote-hood, had endeared him to feel that fondness.
He saw it as a hindrance now.
He was not crying. He did not want a hug. And he definitely didn’t want Pennyworth’s double chocolate fudge cookies from Grandma Martha’s cookbook.
He was so distracted in his own head, he didn’t see Dick enter the room, and didn’t register he was there until he sat down next to the younger boy.
Damian’s shoulders slumped (expecting a customary Grayson smothering) but he recovered quickly and pushed himself back upright, “Why are you here? I explicitly said…”
A small strangled sound came out of his mouth.
Dick knew what a sob being held back sounded like, and threw his arm around the boy, and pulled him into his side.
“Don’t care what you explicitly said, squirt. Brothers watch out for brothers. Family watches out for family. Especially big brothers. So I’m trying not to smother you, but…here.” Dick pulled a small object out of his jean pocket and pressed it into Damian’s hand.
“A phone? Grayson, what use could I have for a phone when Oracle…”
“Fuck me, you are so like Jason.” Dick interrupted, “That phone is, was, a direct line to your grandfather, for emergencies. But it just so happens that I wasn’t able to answer each call, due to our own emergencies. He would never call one person more than once in a row, instead calling around all of us till he got an answer, but he always left a voicemail, for whatever reason, to tell us what he was ringing for.” Dick paused and looked down at Damian, who was now holding the phone in both hands and staring intently at it, “I’m terrible at clearing out old messages. After all these years, there are possibly 200 or so voice mails from him on there. I know you’ve read the missions files, and most of the messages have transcripts that went into the dossiers, but…”
“It’s his words in his voice.” Damian croaked out, and he looked up at Dick, his eyes a little watery.
Dick smiled and pushed off of the sofa.
“It’s yours now kiddo, listen and delete them and throw the phone away, or listen to them and hide it in your sock drawer for a rainy day, or just keep it somewhere nearby, whatever you need to do with it. Phone’s yours.”
Dick stopped short of leaving the room and spun back around to face Damian again, “And when you’re done with that one, the others have them too. None of us keep our phones tidy or organised, the messages are all intact and you can have them.”
He took off down the corridor. “Maybe don’t listen to Stephanie’s if you don’t want to hear any colourful cursing! She used to drive him up the wall!” he quipped over his shoulder back towards Damian.
Damian pressed play on the oldest message in the folder.