#alfred has found the rifle bruce took from him

[happy-alligator]

jack and maddie fenton slander 2k22

[mochinek0]

Rivals AU2

Part 1

"Maybe we'll stop by another time." Alya suddenly announced.

"Um, yeah." Marinette blushed, suddenly reminded that her friends were in the doorway.

"Well, I have to get back to the bakery. Marinette, you can finish dinner, right?" Sabine asked.

"Would it be edible?" Damian questioned.

"Hey!" Mari cried out, "That was one time!"

"You gave me a mud pie." Damian replied.

"We were kids." Marinette shrugged.

"It was actual mud; I took a bite out of it." he said, crossing his arms.

Marinette laughed at the reminder.

"I still won't eat chocolate." he continued, making her laugh harder.

"I think we should go." Alya whispered to the boys, "Bye, Marinette!"

Marinette quickly rushed over and hugged Alya and Nino. As she turned to hug Adrien, Damian shouted, "The food is burning."

"Bye!" she said, running towards the kitchen, "Why didn't you do anything?"

"Alfred banned us from the kitchen." the young Wayne answered.

"What did you do this time?" she asked, as they closed the door to the apartment.

Adrien frowned as the door shut. He had never seen Marinette so happy with a guy, especially not him.

"You don't really think her mom will make them sleep in one bed, right?" Adrien questioned.

"Nah. It's fine for when we're kids, but our bodies are different now and we're aware of that." Alya answered.

"Plus, she has that chaise in her room, too." Nino reminded him.

'Yeah.'

Adrien took one last look at the door and walked down the stairs after his friends.

The day faded to night and both made their way up to Marinette's room. Damian's bags sat in a corner of her room.

"You leave." they both stated.

"It's my room." Marinette complained.

"I'm the guest." Damian countered.

"Do you know what; fine! I can shower." Marinette huffed, grabbing her pj's and headed to the bathroom.

Damian smirked. He felt as if he had won the next battle. He changed into some pajama bottoms and made the decision to wear his wife beater. Damian made his way up to her bed to claim it. He froze at the top of the stairs when he noticed the cat pillow. He certainly wasn't expecting to see the giant cat that he had won for her all those years ago at the carnival.

'I can't believe she kept it. I thought she would have thrown it away by now. I can't believe she still sleeps with it. '

Damian looked down to the swing of her door. Marinette returned to the room with her hair is braided pigtails, a red camisole top with the robin crest and black short. It was easily noticeable that his rival had grown in charms. Damian got into the bed and faced the wall, hiding the flush that conquering his cheeks.

'Why did she have to wear something after me?'

"Night, Dami." Mari yawned, as she turned off the light and climbed into bed with him

'Dammit! I didn't think she would actually get in the bed with me!'

'Dami, doesn't look like a kid anymore. He's a lot more muscular. His shoulders are broader. He's definitely been working out with Dick and everyone else.'

'I just got to stay on this side of the bed.' they thought as they drifted off to sleep.

Sabine went up to Marinette's room as Tom began to set up the bakery. She went up to the bed to check on them. Sabine smiled at the two of them cuddled up in bed together. She hadn't seen her daughter's face this content in a long time. She seemed content with Damian's arms protectively around her. She pulled out her phone and took a picture. As she went down to the bakery, she quickly sent the picture to Bruce.

A couple hours later, Marinette and Damian woke up to the sound of her alarm for school. They blushed as they found themselves intertwined with each other.

"I have school!" Marinette cried out, rushing down the stairs.

She quickly rifled through her closet and was about to change when she froze. She turned her head back to her bed, only to see Damian smirking at her.

"Did you need me to leave?" he questioned.

"Yes!" she growled out.

"Maybe, I should stay." Damian spoke.

Marinette picked up her clothes and took them to her bathroom to change and get ready for her day in peace.

Damian chuckled.

'Point.'

"So," Alya began, "tell me about your mysterious friend."

Marinette sighed, unaware of their audience in the bushes.

"Who was that guy the other day?" the reporter questioned, "You dropped your bag and hugged him like you hadn't seen him in years!"

"I haven't seen him in years." Mari replied.

"Who is he?" Alya asked.

"Damian Wayne." Marinette spoke.

Adrien gulped, knowing the weight that name carried.

"I grew up in Gotham." Marinette began, "Maman and Papa knew his father. His family would watch over me while they worked."

"So, you guys grew up together?" Alya asked.

"Til my parents decided to move to Paris, yeah." Mari shrugged.

"How was it growing up?" Alya questioned, wiggling her eyebrows, "You two seem close."

Marinette rolled her eyes, "Damian and I….have always been at odds. Rivals, if you will. Not the same way Chloe and I are, but rivals, none the less."

"Is that what the point system yesterday was?" the reporter interrogated.

"Yeah. We keep points on who would one up the other since we were kids. Stupid stuff: taking the last doughnut, who was taller, who could get the most compliments, grades. That sorta things." Marinette answered.

"Was your mom serious about you two…you know….sharing a bed?" Alya questioned.

"Yeah. It wasn't a big deal." Mari replied with a shrug, "We've done it before."

Adrien frowned at the revelation.

"Like the same way little kids bathe together?" Alya teased.

"I guess. I don't really remember if we have or not, but I do know my size chart is etched into his house. He was so mad when I got taller then him." Marinette giggled.

"He's not so tiny now." her friend commented.

"Well, no." the Gothamite responded avoiding her gaze.

"And I'm sure he's grown in other places." Alya goaded.

Marinette looked down at her hands, blushing red, "I wouldn't know."

"Oh come on!" Alya shouted, "You're telling me you didn't even peek?"

"He's definitely muscular" Marinette responded, biting her lip, "but Damian's always been athletic."

"Really; how so?" the journalist questioned, "Football? Wrestling? Girl, give me the deets!"

"Um, well, we did gymnastics together with his eldest brother so I know we're both really flexible." Mari admitted, "He's skilled in martial art and with a blade."

"You mean fencing?" Alya asked, "Like Adrien?"

"No." Mari claimed, shaking her head, "Real swords, like samurai blades and stuff."

"Isn't that…I don't know…dangerous?" Alya asked freaking out.

"Well, his mother taught him when she had custody of him so he knows what he's doing. His dad wasn't happy about it, but he made sure that Damian does it in a safe area where he can't hurt anyone, since he wanted to continue doing it. Usually, it's when he needs to clear his mind and think things through." Marinette shrugged.

"So, what you're telling me, is that you have a literal Adonis sleeping in bed with you." she commented.

"I wouldn't really call him an 'Adonis'." Mari spoke, turning away from Alya.

'Although I did feel safe in his arms when I woke up. I was comfortable when I woke up on his chest and with his arms wrapped around me.'

"Really? What would you call him?" her friend teased, trying to get a good look at her friend's face.

"The annoying brat who steals my doughnuts." Mari responded without hesitation, making Adrien chuckle in the bushes.

"Is that right, Fairy Princess?" Damian asked, announcing his presence.

Marinette turns to see Damian and glares at him, while Alya is fascinated by their interaction together.

"Only Nona still calls me 'Little Fairy' now." Marinette commented.

"And what am I, but not your 'Fata Re', Titania?" he smirked.

Adrien glared at their interaction.

'Who does he think he is to call himself Marinette a queen and dub himself her king?'

Marinette blushed, as she got up and pulled him away from Alya.

"You can't call me that!" Mari stated, angrily.

Damian only smirked at her flustered state. He couldn't help but wonder why she seemed so scary when angered as a child. If anything, her face looked cute with her pouty angered look.

"Why not?" he asked, "Are you not mine, Titania?"

Mari blushed, but took a step towards him, "Are you mine then, Oberion?"

Damian took a step into her space, bringing attention to his new height as he overshadowed her. Damian leaned down, tilted her chin to him, and placed a kiss upon her cheek, before whispering, "One point for me."

Marinette stumbled backwards, holding her cheek where he had kissed her. Damian turned and walked away, deciding to walk around Paris.

Adrien couldn't believe that Damian had done that.

'He kissed Mari! It seemed much more intimate then when she had kissed my cheek a couple years ago; why is that?'

Alya's squeal brought Marinette back to attention.

"Damian, get back here or you're gonna be sorry!" Marinette shouted.

Damian looked over his shoulder and waved off her notion of vengeance.

Alya pulled Mari into her arms and cried out, "He kissed you!"

"For a god damn point!" Marinette hissed.

"What?" Alya asked, pulling away, "What are you gonna do?"

"Make sure I come out on top!" Mari declared, running after him.

"Didn't you kiss him first?" Alya shouted, causing Marinette to trip and fall.

Damian looked behind to see Marinette on the floor. Their eyes met and he could immediately tell she was hiding herself. This wasn't his Titania. He gave her a well deserved glare and walked away to cool off. Marinette lowered her head as she got up. She knew she had hidden herself away when she came to Paris. Apparently, Damian was aware of that now and wanted no part of the new Marinette.

"Are you okay?" Alya asked rushing over, as her friend took longer to get up.

"Yeah." she replied heading back to the bench and grabbed her stuff.

"Weren't you going after him?" Alya questioned, grabbing her things.

"No." Mari commented, walking in the opposite direction.

Adrien wasn't sure what had happened, but it was obvious something had happened in that small amount of time that she fell. Marinette remained distant and had a sad demeanor the rest of the day after her interaction with Damian.

Damian walked with Marinette back to the school when she said she wanted to cheer on her friends on the fencing team. She had said they were practicing for a tournament. Damian watched as the practiced but soon took to looking at his phone. Taking offense, Kagami went over to the pair.

"Are we boring you?" she questioned Damian.

"Yes." he replied, not looking up from his phone.

"Do you think you could do better?" Kagami asked.

"Yes." Damian answered, glaring at her.

"Damian!" Marinette scolded him.

"You know, as well as I do, this is child's play." Damian replied to Mari.

"I challenge you." Kagami demanded, "Or are you scared?"

"I'm scared of nothing." Damian growled, taking a stand.

Mari sighs as Damian walked with Kagami over to the fencing teacher, explaining the situation.

"Oh no." Mari grumbles as Adrien takes a seat next to her.

"Will Damian be okay?" he asks, making her jump.

Damian turns and glares in their direction. Marinette crosses her arms and sticks out her tongue.

"He'll be fine." she grumbled, watching as they took their stances.

Adrien was shocked as Damian was quick to strike Kagami. He hadn't even seen him move and from the looks of it, neither had Kagami. He glanced over at Marinette to see her rolling her eyes. Apparently, she knew he would do that. As they restarted the match, Damian stayed in stance and allowed Kagami to approach. He dodged and easily earned another point, deciding the match.

"Will you join our team?" Mr. Delencour asked, "We'll be unstoppable!"

"I'm only visiting." Damian spoke, "I haven't decided for how long yet."

Damian shed the loner equipment off his body, revealing his glistening muscles. Marinette blushed as she watched her old friend's muscles flex. Damian caught notice and quickly flicked the foil at her and pressed it under her chin, bringing her gaze up to his.

"Grab an ice cream with me, Fairy." He smirked.

Marinette nodded as Damian grabbed his shirt and left the equipment in their place. Adrien frowned at Marinette's reaction. She never seemed like the type to care about appearances.

"Who was that?" asked Kagami.

"Marinette's childhood friend." Adrien answered, grabbing the equipment to put away, "He's visiting."

"Seems like more then a friend to me." Kagami smiled.

"Like what?" the young Agreste asked, "Best friends?"

"Perhaps, but maybe, something more soon." she stated, "Keep me informed."

Adrien knew today had been hard on Marinette. Lila had been harsh with her treatment today and he could see Marinette wasn't having it. He knew Marinette was kind so he wasn't sure why she couldn't be kind to Lila until everyone else figured it out. He decided it was best to remind her to take the high road. He didn't expect to find her childhood friend yelling at her. Adrien opened her door very slightly to listen in and stop her friend if he was too harsh.

"What happened to you?" Damian shouted, "You've gone soft! Pink! I thought you hated the color? You always wore red! You said it made you feel powerful! You never let me push you around so why are you letting that liar do it to you?"

"I'm…taking the high road?" Marinette mumbled out.

"What kind of bullshit is that?" the young Wayne questioned, "Where did you go, Angel? This isn't you! You have always been a strong and fierce person. This….weak, clumsy act you portray isn't you."

"Someone one told me it was a better route." Mari spoke.

"Better for you or for her?" he demanded, making her shrink back, "Is that person even thinking about your feelings? I've been here for almost a month! I've seen you make multiple copies of your homework, knowing that your class will ruin it. I've seen how they trip you in the halls. I've heard the rumors and I know none of them are true. I hold you every night as you sob in your sleep. Have they seen how everyone turns away from you in her favor?"

Marinette's lip quivered as she tried to stay strong.

"Are they the one holding you? Are they calming you down when Akumas come after you?" Damian asked.

'Akumas?'

Adrien gulped as he watched tears flow down his friend's face.

Damian sighed, "I know you can handle yourself. We did the same training. You can easily dodge her attempts. So why listen to this idiot?"

"I liked him." Marinette admitted, not realizing Adrien was eavesdropping.

Adrien could feel his face burn, but at the same time, he was frozen to his spot. He couldn't look away; he couldn't breathe. Marinette had listened to him because she had liked him? Did she not believe in the high road, as he did?

Damian growled and pulled Marinette close to him, "He's nothing! You got that, Habibiti!"

Time froze as Damian grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"You're mine, Titania!" he declared before leaning down and kissing her.

Adrien waited with bated breath for Marinette to push her friend away, to shout at him, something….anything, but Damian pulled away first.

"Mari?" Damian whispered, as a new set of tears cascaded down her eyes.

"I'm yours, Oberion." Mari spoke, before pushing herself into the next kiss.

Wordlessly, Adrien left.

Next week, the class was shocked by Marinette's transformation. She had arrived to class early and dressed differently. She was wearing a black top, red shorts, black thigh highs and black laced up boots.

Marinette's new appearance radiated power, strength, confidence. Adrien felt like he was standing next to his partner. Marinette walked up to Bustier's desk and slammed a large folder on her desk.

"I am tired of sitting idly by and watching you all potentially ruin your futures." she spoke, "This folder contains all the lies Lila has told all of you! Lila claims to have a lying disability that both Mr. Damocles and Miss Bustier thought it was better you had no knowledge of."

Lila paled as people looked at the large folder.

"I believe it's harmful for you all to take her word on everything." Mari continued, "I'm not saying you all can't be friends. I want her to have friends. My only issue with Lila is that if she lies constantly and takes actions when she is stressed, like when she put the Gabriel brand fox necklace, she called an heirloom, in my locker. At that moment, that should have been a time to contact her mother to see what else she has lied about. Until better actions are taken, I will be resigning as class president and Miss Bustier, you can do your own work."

Marinette walked to her seat with her head held high as the class began to question their teacher and go look at the folders.

Alya turned to Marinette and frowned.

"Marinette, I'm really sorry I didn't believe you. You were right when you said it could effect our futures and I posted so much stuff on my blog. I should have never asked you for references; I'm the one who wants to be a reporter, not you." Alya apologized, "I have to ask though, where did you get the power-boost from?"

"My boyfriend." Mari smiled, "He reminded me of who I was. I don't need to please people and that's who I became when I moved to Paris. You can take the girl out of Gotham, but you can't take Gotham out of the girl."

"Oh, so he's your boyfriend now?" Alya teased.

"Yep." Marinette responded, enjoying the chaos around her.

"What about?" Alya asked, motioning towards Adrien.

"Adrien? He was a lost cause from the start. I think I knew that. I was always trying to put him first." Marinette shrugged, "Damian reminded me that I need to come first. Somewhere over the years, between Gotham and Paris, I lost myself. I hated the color pink and it's all I wore. I needed a major overhaul in my life."

"It's a big one!" the reporter complimented, "You look fierce."

"Thanks!" the little Gothamite replied, "I just wish I had been myself from the start."

"What's with the clothes?" questioned Alix, inviting herself into the conversation.

"My boyfriend helped me empty my closet and I donated those clothes. He took my shopping for a couple things and some fabrics. He said he wanted to see the real me, at least until I made myself some new clothes." Marinette answered.

"If this is how you're dressing now, I make take you up on a couple commissions." Alix stated.

"Me too." Juleka spoke.

Lila slammed her hands on her desk and shouted, "It’s all a lie! My boyfriend, Damian Wayne, will hear about this! He'll sue you and you'll be sorry that you smeared my good name, Marinette!"

Immediately, Alya and Nino broke down in laughter, while Adrien shook his head. He knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Why are you laughing at me?" Lila questioned.

"Cause Damian Wayne has been here for two weeks. The 'weird' guy who hangs around Mari and is living with her; that's Damian Wayne?" Nino announced, "They're childhood friends and are now dating. Even her parents know him."

The class immediately turned on Lila and glared at her.

"You're just a liar. I don't mind being friends with you, I just won't believe you when you say something." Alya spoke up, "I'm not gonna waste my time waiting for you when we go to the movies, but you 'forgot' your wallet or 'suddenly' can't make it. Prove you want to be friends with us."

Lila gathered up her things and rushed out of class, upset the her plans had finally fallen through. They could all see through her ruse and she'd have to work hard to gain back their trust, even a bit.

The class quickly began to apologize to Marinette, ignoring Bustier's cries for Lila to return to class. They were all too busy to see the purple butterfly that fluttered onto her lipstick case once more.

"Settle down, Class!" Zombizou declared, "We need to show Lila how much we love her! Marinette, you are the first person that needs to show Lila how much we care about her. You have only shown her hate!"

Marinette got up from her seat and replied, "Of course, Miss Bustier! Lila needs to know how much we love her!" before fleeing to transform. Most of the class was hot on her heels, calling for Lila so they could 'forgive her' and hide quickly.

As she battled Zombizou in the class room, Chat Noir had managed to transform and show up.

Chat Noir dodged Zombizou's kiss flurry.

"I'm sorry!" he shouted, "I was held up!"

Ladybug wrapped her yo-yo around Zombizou's wrist, yanking the akuma towards her. She quickly ducked her akumatized teacher and smashed the lipstick.

"Miraculous Ladybug!" she cried and ran off shouting, "I'm sure you can take care of this, Chat!"

Marinette dropped into her room and sighed, "Tikki, Spots Off."

When she looked up, she realized that had been a mistake. Damian was standing in her room. She could tell he probably wanted an explanation, but instead that devilish smirk appeared across his face. Marinette panicked believing he would tattle on her. Instead, he walked up to her, pulled her against him and kissed her.

"Damian?" she squeaked out.

"I always knew My Queen was powerful, especially in red." he replied to the unasked question, "I'll walk you back to class. Besides, I have some secrets of my own to share. Tonight?"

Marinette nodded as she calmed her heart. Her secret was exposed, but Damian didn't seem to mind one bit. She had been told to guard it with her life. There was no chance of even speaking with Tikki, until later, to know what she thought.

"Let's take a walk through the park." Damian suggested, "You look like you need a moment."

Adrien ran back towards the school, but hid at what appeared to be an intimate moment between Marinette and Damian. He peered from behind the bush and saw something he didn't expect to: a red kwami he knew he'd seen before.

'Marinette is Ladybug!'

Adrien felt his excitement bubble up as he could finally be with his lady, but his dreams were quickly squashed.

"So, My Lovely Red Queen, I believe we have an arrangement to consider." Damian spoke.

"Arrangement?" Mari questioned, "I believe you will be returning to the underworld soon, My Dove."

"Soon, but then I shall capture you once more and you will be mine." the young Wayne quipped.

"I care not for cages." she smiled.

"You could soar under the stars with me." Damian replied.

Marinette giggled, "Can you even see the stars back home?"

"From the top of my tower." he answered.

Adrien watched as Marinette leaned against him and Damian pulled her closer.

"You know, I thought I loved before, but I was only under a spell." Marinette spoke, "I have no feelings for someone so beneath me, who wouldn't even take my feelings into consideration."

"What about the cat?" Damian asked, getting up from the bench.

'He knows?'

"Not yet." Mari replied, "I've told him I have no feelings for him. He is still my partner and my friend."

"If he lays a paw on you, I have no qualms taking his place, even by force." Damian stated.

"I'm not a damsel in distress." Mari growled back, poking him in the chest.

"No, you're not." the young Wayne spoke, "You never have been.

Mari leaned in, got on her tip toes and placed a kiss on Damian's lips.

"My Dark Knight turned King." she smiled, leaving her arms around his neck.

"My Fierce Queen." Damian smirked, before leaning down for another kiss.

Adrien panted as he leaned against the wall and let his tears fall.

All that time, his Princess was his Lady. He had never tried to see the kind of person Marinette was, not even when he had visited as Chat Noir. She had loved him and he had let her down. He never saw the strength behind her eyes, but her Fata Re did.

@daminette-december2019-2020

MASTERLIST COMING SOON!!!

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[sohotthateveryonedied]

Softer Than Silence

Read here on AO3!

(Takes place right after this fic which I wrote like a year ago and only now got to making a sequel for whoops.)

Summary:

“Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.”

Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords.

Oh, god.

Tim doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up. He’s not even sure how he’s waking up. A slit throat in any universe should be a certain one-way ticket to the afterlife—don’t pass go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Dead. Maybe Tim is dreaming. Or maybe he’s dying right now and this is just his brain flashing forward to the future he could have had, “Owl Creek Bridge”-style. His ears feel like they’re packed with pillows, but voices make their way through his warped awareness like pencils poking through aluminum foil. “I say we should draw straws.” “Really, Jay? That’s your suggestion?” “You got a better idea, Dickface?” Someone clicks their tongue. “You’re both cowards. Let me be the one to tell him and I’ll have it done in less than a minute.” “I can’t even tell you all of the reasons I’m not letting you do that.” “Yeah, kid, your bedside manner fucking sucks.” “It’s better than yours!” “Will you both shut up?” Tim would feign sleep and listen longer, but the drug-induced haze is fading faster than he can keep up with. His throat burns with a fiery vengeance, flames creeping up his windpipe. He shifts, a hand instinctively grappling for his throat. Someone stops him. “Tim? You awake?” He opens his eyes. Dick is beside him, lowering Tim’s wrist back to the bed. They’re in the medical area of the Batcave; he can tell by the dank air and a sliver of rock peeking through the gap in the curtain surrounding them. Jason and Damian stand off to the side, their expressions unreadable. Tim opens his mouth to ask them what happened, but before he can utter a vowel, Dick is squeezing his hand. “Don’t try to talk,” he says. Tim obediently settles back, wariness rising in his gut. He reaches up with the hand not in Dick’s grasp and discovers a thick bandage plastered over his neck. That can’t be good. “Do you remember what happened?” The man flicks Tim’s blood off of his sword. “I would love to continue this riveting visit of ours, but it seems like my mission is complete. Have a pleasant night, Mr. Drake.” Tim nods with a wince. “You were lucky,” Dick says. “Conner found you and brought you here just in time. You lost a lot of blood and Leslie had you in surgery for a while, but she was able to fix most of the damage.” Tim doesn’t miss the most, and Dick grimaces when he catches it as well. Tim arches one eyebrow—a clear, What aren’t you telling me? “Looks like that’s our cue to duck out,” Jason says. He grabs Damian by the shoulder and ignores the raccoon-like hands smacking him away. “Glad you didn’t die, Tim.” He ushers Damian out and they disappear, leaving Tim’s stomach curdling. He looks to Dick for an explanation. “There...there was a lot of damage, Tim. You’re lucky to be breathing right now.” That should be good, right? Tim is alive. There’s no tube in his neck so he can breathe on his own, and aside from some residual soreness under the buzz of the drugs, he feels fine. This is a monumental victory. So why does Dick look like he’s delivering a death sentence? Tim wants to ask, but he physically can’t do that. Dick doesn’t seem to be able to either. “Your larynx was severed. It was a pretty nasty injury and Leslie did everything she could, but your vocal cords...they weren’t salvageable. I’m...I’m so sorry, Tim.” Tim lets that sink in. Severed larynx. Unsalvageable vocal cords. Oh, god. The utter horror on Tim’s face must be unmistakable because Dick is rushing to comfort him. “It’s okay, Tim. You’re going to get through this.” But Dick’s voice is muffled by the ringing in Tim’s ears. He can’t lose his voice. He can’t. This isn’t happening. Tim scrambles to sit up, his breathing becoming ragged. He sucks in a deep breath, opens his mouth, and tries, tries to make a noise. Tries to make a single sound, but all that comes out is a rush of air. He’s shaking. He tries to speak, to yell, to scream, and there are tears running down his cheeks and his gasps are empty and his throat hurts but he doesn’t stop. Dick’s hand is on his back. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” Tim hates that he doesn’t even have the ability to argue, to tell Dick that there’s nothing to figure out. Tim can’t speak and meaningless encouragement isn’t going to change that. Nothing will change it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s an adjustment, to say the least. The first day, Tim holds out a flicker of hope that this is all some dream and any minute he’ll wake up again in the med bay, throat repaired and vocal cords intact. He can’t believe this is happening to him. In his entire life Tim never once considered what it would be like to lose his voice, never prepared himself for the possibility. He’s watched Cass trudge through reading assignments from Barbara and struggle to find the right words in a conversation, but it never occurred to him just how much Tim relied on his ability to speak. He took it for granted. His first day out of the med bay he finds himself slipping up again and again, opening his mouth in response to a question only to remember that that’s no longer an option. He doesn’t know enough sign language to partake in a conversation, so he avoids them altogether. He hears Alfred humming along to an opera album down the hall and is filled with a vicious, panging envy. Never again will Tim hum, sing, laugh. It’s all gone. Everyone keeps giving him the same droll sermons. He’ll get through this. It could have been worse; he could be dead. Cass manages just fine with sign language, and Tim can too. He should count himself lucky that the damage wasn’t more severe. But is he lucky? Is he really? Tim has already lost so much: his parents, his friends, his Robin career, Bruce. And now his voice. Life just doesn’t know when to stop taking from him. Maybe it will never stop taking, not until he’s an empty husk. Conner left for Smallville just a few days after Tim awoke. He never said why, but Tim knows it’s because he feels guilty. Tim wants to reassure him that this isn’t his fault, that Tim would be dead if Conner hadn’t saved him, but it would take too long to write down. Bruce taught Tim basic ASL shortly after he began his Robin training, sticking to the most rudimentary of phrases that one would need for crime-fighting. Yes. No. Please. Thank you. Help. Safe. Danger. Steph offered to learn sign language with him and Alfred left a sneaky pile of ASL books on Tim’s desk, but he hasn’t touched them. He instead relies on a whiteboard and marker to communicate, rarely as he does. His search for Bruce has been put on hold, not of his own volition. He supposes it’s fair. After all, Tim can’t even order a hamburger anymore without the help of his whiteboard. Not that he leaves the manor much, anyway. The bandage on his neck draws too much unwanted attention. He’d hate to see what Gotham’s press would conspirize about a Wayne son with a mysteriously slit throat. Tim’s days are spent in his room, working on cases out of the action. That’s what he does now, sitting on his bed with his laptop, music blasting through his headphones. Dick pokes his head in without knocking. They still haven’t devised a system for that yet. “Hey, you got a second?” Tim flicks his fingers in Dick’s direction: his way of acknowledging people these days. He pauses his music. “Damian and I are heading out on patrol now.” Tim says nothing. Obviously. “Alfred told me you didn’t eat dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast.” Tim rifles through the papers sprawled around his knees and holds up a crumpled pink post-it. Throat hurts. “That excuse again?” Tim shrugs. “Look, I know you’re frustrated, but what you’re doing isn’t healthy. You know that, right?” Tim twirls a finger in the air. Whoop-dee-doo. “That’s real mature.” Of all the things I have to worry about right now, I’d say maturity is pretty low on the list. Not that Tim says any of that. He doesn’t know the signs and he let his whiteboard fall off the bed somewhere to his left hours ago. He doesn’t bother reaching for it. Dick comes closer to the bed and stops. “Can I sit?” Tim shrugs and goes back to his laptop. Dick sits on the edge by Tim’s knee and reaches over to close the computer. Tim flips him one of the few ASL signs he does know. “You have a right to be angry about this, but you can’t project that anger onto us. Me, Damian, Alfred—we’re not the ones you’re mad at. And we all want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t let us. So start letting us.” Easy for him to say. But Tim knows he’s right, as infuriating as it is, which is the only reason he doesn’t turn his music back on and shut down for another week. Sighing, Tim opens the laptop. He pulls up a blank word document and types for a moment. He turns the computer around to show Dick. Speech for Neon Knights foundation in a couple days. Already written. Just need someone to deliver it. Dick nods, smiling. “Sure. I can take care of that. And it’s okay if you need more time to work through this, but I want you to remember that I’m here if you ever want to talk. Or, well—you know what I mean. Just remember you’re not alone in this.” Tim wishes he could tell Dick the truth. That Tim does appreciate everything he’s trying to do—really, he does. Tim doesn’t know where he’d even be if he didn’t have Dick by his side, making the world a brighter place just by existing in it with his endless patience and unfaltering optimism. If only he had the voice to tell him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason wouldn’t call himself a particularly caring individual. That sort of legacy is better left to the real heroes, like Bruce and Roy and Dick-fucking-Grayson. It’s for this reason that Jason didn’t stick around for a hot second when Tim got hurt, nor did he return for the aftermath. Tim is dealing with enough shit right now. He doesn’t need his asshole older brother getting involved and making him feel worse. Jason can’t imagine what it would be like to be in Tim’s situation. For starters, it would utterly butcher his knack for smartass remarks. Plus, there’s no finer euphoria than screaming obscenities at a blubbering criminal right before he puts a bullet through their skull. Losing his voice would be losing half of what makes him the Red Hood. Red Robin, on the other hand...he’s always been quiet. Not like Cass, but getting there. He relies on shadows and ninja-like swiftness to get the point across that this is goddamn Red Robin and you should be wetting your pants in his wake. But Jason’s smart enough to know that the silent schtick is done by choice. It’s a maneuver and a learned behavior rolled into one. He can only imagine how torturous it must be to be silenced by force—to be muzzled by something completely out of his control. (Fine, so Jason cares about the kid a little. Sue him.) He goes into the Batburger restaurant (Jesus shit, whoever came up with the idea of a Batman-themed restaurant should be shot in the head. Or maybe thrown a parade. He can’t decide) and scouts for black hair and pale skin. He spots Tim in a booth all the way at the back and heads over, sliding into the seat across from him. “Hey, kid.” Tim picks his head up from where he was engrossed in a game of Solitaire on his phone and gives a two-fingered salute. A notepad and Superman pen sit on the table in front of him. “Did you order yet?” Tim points to the scar on his neck and Jason mentally slaps himself in the forehead. “Right.” Tim picks up the pen and scribbles for a minute. “What,” Jason says, “no whiteboard today?” Tim turns the pad around to show Jason. Too bulky. People notice. Below that: Nuggets, fries & grape zesti. “Magic words?” Tim rolls his eyes. He tears out the page and bounces it off Jason’s forehead. However, he does lift his right hand and rotate it in front of his chest, palm flat: the ASL sign for “please.” Jason recognizes it from his minimal knowledge accumulated from Robin training and conversations with Cass. “Attaboy. For a minute there I was worried Alf failed in making a decent person out of you.” Tim sticks his tongue out, which makes Jason chuckle. He goes to the counter and relays Tim’s order, along with his own. While he waits he dares a look back and finds Tim back to staring down at his phone, shirt collar pulled as high as it’ll go. What must it be like, going from Gotham’s favorite billionaire playboy-in-training to a silent teenager who can’t go to a restaurant without people staring at the killer scar across his throat? Jason’s seen the gossip magazines. Some speculate a failed assassination, while others are sure it was a suicide attempt gone wrong. At least Jason’s scars can be covered by a t-shirt. Tim can’t hide his without a turtleneck, but it’s summer now. He’s forced to endure the speculated theories and pitiful glances, meanwhile Jason has the benefit of being legally dead on his side. He doesn’t have to worry about people remembering him. Losing one’s voice only months after losing his second father figure is tough shit for a seventeen-year-old. For anyone. He doesn’t know how Tim does it. Jason goes back to the table and finds Tim doodling a stick figure on the notepad. It’s got thick, narrowed eyebrows and pointed teeth. “That supposed to be me?” Tim’s mouth quirks. He fingerspells, Damian. His sleeve falls down an inch, exposing a med-alert bracelet. Alfred must have made him start wearing it. What with his asplenia and nasty habit of fainting in places when he forgets to eat, it makes sense that Tim would need it. If something were to happen, it’s not like he can inform paramedics of the deal. “You really captured the evil in his eyes.” Jason takes a bite of his cheeseburger while Tim busies himself with arranging his fries in size order, the little weirdo. “So how are things at home?” Good, Tim signs, his movements clunky and unpracticed. Dick… He frowns and scribbles on the pad. Helicopter parenting. “Same old, same old, right?” Tim levels an unimpressed look. “What? It can’t be that bad.” Benched indefinitely. It sucks. “Can you blame him? I wouldn’t want you in the field like this yet either.” Cass, Tim writes, and leaves it at that. “But she’s been functioning without speech for her whole life. She doesn’t need it to be understood. You’ve only been doing it for two weeks.” And a half, Tim writes. “You know what I mean. ‘s not like you can call for help if you get gutted in an alley.” Never thought I’d see the day when you’d take Dick’s side. “Yeah, well, sometimes the fucker has a point.” He takes a sip of his soda. “You know, I talked to Babs yesterday. Said she’s working on tech that’ll let you use morse code over the comms. If she finishes it on schedule, you can be back out there in less than a month.” Tim just nods, eyes dimmed. It’s weird seeing the kid so quiet. The real trick used to be getting Tim to shut up. He used to spend hours rambling on and on about whatever science kick he was on at the moment. For as quiet as Red Robin could be, Tim Drake never ran out of things to say. Jason misses it. He throws a sesame seed at Tim. “Hey. I’m trying to have a conversation here.” Tim makes a gesture that Jason doesn’t recognize. At Jay’s confused look, Tim writes on the notepad, Fuck off. “Cassie teach you that one?” Steph. Wanted to learn curse words first. “Of course you did. You know, you should hit up Jericho. He knows exactly what you’re going through, and I’m pretty sure he was able to teach Dick sign language in less than a year.” You’re the fifth person to say that. “I’m a fucking genius, we know this. But seriously. It might be useful to have someone in your corner who knows how to cope with this kind of thing.” I’m coping fine. “By listening to shitty emo music all day in your room? Yeah, because that’s super healthy.” Tim twiddles the pen between his fingers, glaring at Jason. Finally, he puts it to paper. I keep calling my cell phone to listen to the voicemail. Jason blinks. “Why?” Don’t want to forget what my voice sounds like. “You won’t.” Forgot my mom’s after a year. Starting to forget my dad’s. Tim pauses before adding, He yelled a lot though, so I think he’s got a lead. Jason has no fucking idea what to say to that, thanks for asking. He gives it a shot anyway. “Then...then I’ll remember it enough for the both of us. It's kind of hard to forget that annoying-ass nasally voice babbling about Star Wars for hours anyway.” Wow, thanks, Tim signs with an eye roll. No problem, Jason signs back. That makes Tim smile for the first time since Jason sat down. Maybe this kid will be all right, after all.

[majinkura]

Friday the 13th Part IV: The Final Chapter ( 1984)

Did You Know?👇👇👇👇🤔

The strange dance which Jimbo performs at the party was contributed by actor Crispin Glover and was based on the eccentric way he actually danced in clubs. On the set he was dancing to "Back in Black" by AC/DC as the scene was filmed. In the film however an edited version of "Love Is a Lie" by Lion was dubbed into the scene.

Last film in the series to pick up immediately where the previous film left off. At 58 years old at the time Ted White is the oldest stuntman/actor to portray Jason Voorhees. On a budget of $1,800,000 the film made $32,600,000 at the box office.

At the time, this installment of the series contained the most nudity and gore. The film was released on Friday the 13th: April 13, 1984.

In Turkey, this film, and the next sequel, Friday the 13th V: A New Beginning (1985), were released at the same time. People could watch both films back to back. Even the posters for both movies were displayed next to each other.

(at around 1h 2 mins) In one scene, Rob talks to Trish about his sister, Sandra. Sandra was one of Jason's victims in Friday the 13th - Part II (1981).

(at around 10 mins) The workout video Axel watches is Aerobicise (1982). It stars Darcy DeMoss who went on to have a role in Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (1986).

This is the only film in the series to shoot new footage using sets and locations from a previous film. The beginning takes place on the set of Friday the 13th - Part III (1982), before moving to a new location.

Director Joseph Zito was opposed to using clips from previous installments at the beginning of the film.

(at around 9 mins) The nurse's name tag reads "R. Morgan, RN," an homage to actress Robbi Morgan, who played Annie in Friday the 13th (1980).

During filming Kimberly Beck, who plays Trish, experienced strange occurrences including a man watching her while she ran in the park and strange phone calls at all hours. This stopped when production was over.

Though he disliked being involved with the film, Ted White is considered by many fans to be one of the best Jasons.

(at around 9 mins) The moment where Jason's hand moves in the morgue was done by Ted White after Joseph Zito had called cut on the scene. However, the camera was still rolling, and caught this movement, and it was included in the film.

Writer Barney Cohen originally wrote a scene involving Jason fondling Trish's breasts but the producers vetoed it. Director Joseph Zito also disliked the scene because it made Jason seem too human and less menacing. The scene was excised.

Joseph Zito had previously directed The Prowler (1981), but they wanted him to both direct AND write Friday the 13th Part 4. He said, "But I'm not a writer," to which they said, "Here's a contract paying you double to write and direct," and then he responded, "Yeah, I'm totally a writer." Zito used the extra salary to hire Barney Cohen to somewhat secretly write the script. Their process entailed Zito taking nightly one-hour phone calls with Phil Scuderi to discuss the story and script for Final Chapter. The next day Zito would meet Cohen in an apartment in New York to relay what notes and ideas Scuderi had offered, which they would then turn into new script pages to be sent later that day to Scuderi in Boston to be discussed again over the phone that night.

Camilla More actually read for the role of Samantha, but when the producers discovered she had a twin, they offered both sisters the roles of Tina and Terri.

It is played for humor throughout Final Chapter that young Tommy Jarvis (Feldman) is suddenly surrounded by horny teenagers renting a cabin he can see into from his own house. However, the reality of the situation is that those actresses were indeed very or partially naked, and Corey Feldman was still young enough that Erich Anderson and Kimberly Beck took him trick-or-treating the first day of filming since it happened to be October 31, 1983. So, they shielded 12-year-old Feldman from most of the bad stuff, using tricky editing when necessary. What they could not control was the power of a low-cut top sans bra underneath. According to Feldman, in the scene in which Jodie Aronson's character bends over to greet Tommy's dog unbeknownst to anyone but Feldman he could see down her low-cut top.

It has been suggested that the only reasons Tom Savini worked as make-up artist on this film was in order that he could accurately age and properly kill the character he created from the first film.

Barbara Howard used a body double for her shower sex scene.

After Jason actor Ted White finished his scenes for this film, he immediately started work on Starman (1984). While on set for the night's filming, a group of reporters were waiting to interview Jeff Bridges, but he was unavailable. Therefore, director, John Carpenter, told the reporters to talk to White about the film he had recently finished. After telling the reporters he had just finished playing Jason in the latest Friday the 13th film, the next day's article was entirely about him, and that night, numerous "Friday" fans arrived at the set solely in order to see White.

Jason actor Ted White and special effects artist Tom Savini at first were confrontational with one another. But once White found out Savini had experience with stunts, the two became friends.

Rob was originally supposed to have high-tech equipment which he had used to track Jason, but the props for this looked cheap, and the idea was scrapped.

The film takes place on Sunday the 15th and beyond which makes it the second "Friday" film not to actually take place on a Friday at all. While the beginning with the coroners takes place during the night of Sunday the 15th, the rest of the film takes place on Monday the 16th, with Tuesday the 17th being the climactic night.

Even though he plays her son, Ted White (Jason Voorhees) is actually 11 months older than Betsy Palmer (Pamela Voorhees).

Rather than making masks, Tommy was originally going to have been an inventor. One of his projects was a device made from a microwave oven, which would have been what he used to kill Jason. Some of this is seen in the final product in a scene where he helps repair a car.

Amy Steel talked Peter Barton into doing the film. By the time the Final Chapter offer came around Matthew Star was off the air, and Barton wanted no part of horror films, having hated working on Hell Night in 1981. Amy Steel somehow talked him into it, selling him on the notoriety of starring in the final Friday the 13th film.

Director Joseph Zito wanted Jason's hockey mask to explode apart in the opening credits, but there was not enough time in post-production to pull off this gag.

Paramount was originally going to release the film in October, 1984. After filming wrapped in January Paramount studio head Frank Mancuso Sr. screened footage of the film to much enthusiasm. After a window opened up the release date was changed to April upon confirmation from Joseph Zito that he could complete the film faster than planned. This led to Zito, producer Frank Mancuso Jr., and a crew of editors essentially remaining locked in a house in Malibu editing around the clock in order to finish the film on time. This marked one of the only times that Paramount actively helped in the production of a Friday the 13th film, as they were generally produced independently, with the studio only handling marketing and distribution.

The house used for the Jarvis home was later used as the Anderson home in the film Ed Gein (2000) where serial killer Ed Gein is apprehended.

Bonnie Hellman's agents told her about a possible role in this film - the hitchhiker - but then told her that she would not want to do it, as there were no lines. However, she ended up taking the role anyway.

Kimberly Beck stated in the Crystal Lake Memories book that she does not like the horror genre. In addition to this, she also said that she feels this film was not even a B-movie, but rather a C-movie.

Distinguished film critic Roger Ebert called this film "an immoral and reprehensible piece of trash."

The Jarvis family's dog, Gordon, was named after a recently deceased dog which a friend of director Joseph Zito owned.

Peter Barton was talked into taking a role in this film by his The Powers of Matthew Star (1982) co-star Amy Steel who played Ginny in Friday the 13th - Part II (1981).

The female hitchhiker was called "Fat Girl" in the original draft of the script.

The poster shows the hockey mask with a knife on its left eyesocket. Jason is defeated with a machete going through his left eye.

Kimberly Beck is the only Friday the 13th actress that appeared in an Alfred Hitchcock film. She worked on Marnie (1964), exactly 20 years prior to this. She plays the little girl that Marnie's mother babysits.

The film was shot entirely in California.

Carey More's audition was to simply read one line.

Lisa Freeman, who played Nurse Morgan, and Crispin Glover, who played Jimmy Mortimer, both would go on to be in the Back To The Future movies. Crispin Glover played George McFly in Back to the Future (1985) and Lisa Freeman played Babs in Back to the Future (1985) and Back to Future, part II (1989).

(at around 20 mins) The Jarvis family sandwich hug was based on a group hug that screenwriter Barney Cohen's family did.

Jason's death won the Golden Chainsaw Award in Dead Meat's "Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter" kill count.

This is considered by many fans, to be the best and most popular Friday the 13th film.

The Jarvis family car is a 1970 Dodge Polara.

Rob's rifle is a Winchester Model 70.

Rob looks to be the main male hero of the film to work alongside Final Girl Trish. Instead he dies almost immediately after encountering Jason, with the real Final Guy of the film being Tommy

The ambulance driver played by Antony Ponzini & Axel and the coroner played by Bruce Mahler both appeared on the sitcom Seinfled. Ponzini as Jerry's barber Enzo and Mahler as the Rabbi in Elaine's building.

Was released in theaters, directly a week before Crispin Glover's (Jimmy) 20th birthday.

Tracy Jarvis' fate and death would have been more further explained in a deleted scene that had been cut from the film. An alternate ending to the film, included in the 2009 Deluxe Edition DVD, shows a dream sequence where Trish and Tommy wake up the next morning after killing Jason to the sound of police sirens. Trish sends Tommy to summon the police who have arrived next door. At that point she notices water dripping from the ceiling and goes to investigate. She enters the upstairs bathroom, and finds the body of her mother floating in a tub full of bloody water. Trish lifts her mother out of the tub, prompting Tracy's eyes to open, revealing them to be solid white and devoid of irises. Jason suddenly appears from behind the bathroom door and prepares to attack Trish. Trish then suddenly wakes up in the hospital in a scene reminiscent of the ending of the first movie.

Ted White was uncredited as Jason Voorhees by his own request.

The twins are played by real life sisters Camilla and Carey More, who both also appeared on the daytime soap opera Days of our Lives as Gillian and Grace Forrester. More stars from the soap DAYS also appear in further Friday The 13th sequels like Renee Jones in Part 6, and Kevin Spirtas and Staci Greason in Part 7. Other soap stars that appeared in Friday The 13th films include Kevin Bacon, Russell Todd, Lauren Marie Taylor, Dana Kimmell, Kimberly Beck, Peter Barton, Jennifer Cooke, Michael Swan, and Scott Reeves.

Paul's car is a 1973 Chevrolet Caprice Estate station wagon.

According to Ted White, he and director Joseph Zito did not get along very well during filming.

The actress playing Trish's mother was only 14 years and 1 day older than her.

Both Corey Feldman and Crispin Glover later appeared in different films with actor Kiefer Sutherland in the same year: Feldman in Stand by Me (1986) and Glover in At Close Range (1986).

Pamela Voorhees' first name appears on a tombstone.

[sallyhasopinions]

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman

Today I was trying to ease myself back into this whole process after skipping a day by choosing a shorter movie than average, the 2003 direct-to-video Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman. This was a mistake, as it took me in the neighborhood of four hours to watch it and take notes. This movie is an hour and fifteen minutes in length, but I take notes like I’m going to be tested later and I had to keep pausing to catch up. It’s animated and filled with superheroes, so the pacing was faster than I was prepared for.

Spoilers below; you’ve been warned.

I took fifteen pages of notes for this plot description.

Note - In the interest of relative brevity I am going to assume that readers have at least a passing familiarity with Batman.

The film opens on a seemingly innocuous car hauler and following car driving through the night before being intercepted by a mysterious Bat~woman~, who interferes with the disguised cargo, revealing it to be weaponry, and battles the men in both vehicles. This fight draws the attention of Batman and Robin, coincidentally cruising by in their jet, who interfere to save the lives of the truck drivers and make note of this mysterious woman who is totally jacking their brand.

As Bats stresses over who could possibly be behind the mask, the Penguin is visited by criminal colleagues Thorne and Duquesne, who break the news about the ruined shipment and the newest Bat on the block. The Batwoman also appears on the news, and Commissioner Gordon even questions Batman directly about who she is, though he has no information.

At Wayne Tech, Bruce sits through a presentation by clumsy employee Dr. Roxanne (Rocky) Ballantine, where she demonstrates a new alloy of “programmable” metal that can be made to take different shapes. Bruce invites her to dinner, but their evening is interrupted by the appearance of the Bat-Signal.

Commissioner Gordon, along with detectives Sonia Alcana and Bullock, have recovered the weapons destroyed in Batwoman’s battle and identified them as high-tech plasma rifles of unknown origin. Batman deduces from the distinctive keychain holding the truck’s keys that they have come from a business owned by the Penguin, Thorne, and Duquesne.

Investigating the shady business, Batman and Robin find Batwoman already there and causing trouble. The boys step in to help when she is surrounded by thugs, only to find out from her that she has rigged bombs in the rooms below them, and they all need to make their escape. As the building is destroyed, she explains that they were manufacturing weapons for illegal export. Batman demands to know who she is, but she tells him he’ll have to figure it out himself and escapes. He tracks her to Duquesne’s home, where he gets into a tussle with some bodyguards and Duquesne himself demands that Batman leave his property.

Now suspecting Duquesne’s daughter Kathy to be the Batwoman, Bruce and Alfred spend the next day tailing her as she goes on a shopping spree. She incidentally recruits Bruce to help her escape her bodyguards in a shopping center, and he agrees. The two of them speed off in her car and she tells him about herself, her mother, and how she blames her father for her mother’s death before they are located by her bodyguards and she agrees to go home.

Batman immediately passes on his suspicions about Kathy and her potential motive of revenge for her mother’s death to Commissioner Gordon, Sonia, and Bullock, and shares the information regarding the Penguin’s illicit weapons factory. The police put a tail on Kathy while Bruce researches her on his own.

Batwoman breaks into Thorne’s office to photograph evidence from his files as Thorne and the Penguin decide their next steps in completing their arms deal in light of the destruction of their factory. She is discovered, but escapes after a scuffle with the men. Later, Kathy overhears her father Duquesne raging as he discovers that the Penguin, with Thorne’s support, has called in additional help to complete the deal.

At Wayne Tech, Rocky shows Robin how to reach a game’s bonus level. Bruce reminds him that Alfred is waiting for him. Rocky tells Bruce she has been working late, but their casual chat is interrupted by the arrival of Kathy Duquesne, who has dressed up and come to ask Bruce out that evening.

Sonia and Bullock follow Kathy and Bruce to the Iceberg Lounge, a club owned by the Penguin and filled with Duquesne’s associates. They are greeted warmly by the Penguin himself. Bruce asks Kathy about her intentions in bringing him to a place full of her father’s associates that are sure to report to him, and she takes offense to his tone and excuses herself from their table. Meanwhile, the Penguin takes a telephone call from his new associate, who has agreed to assist with their arms deal and will meet him at the club shortly. Batwoman, lurking in the shadows of the Penguin’s office, is spotted as he completes his phone call. She restrains him with a metallic device and begins questioning him about his new associate, but the Penguin manages to push a panic button under his desk, causing two of his lackeys to come to his aid just as he reveals that it is Bane who will be helping to facilitate the arms deal.

The fight that ensues sends Batwoman through the office wall and crashing onto the club’s dance floor, causing immediate chaos and confusion. Sonia and Bullock outside the club call for backup as patrons flee the continuing battle. Just as the Penguin has Batwoman cornered, Batman swoops in to prevent him from shooting her. Batwoman is able to escape and as she flies away, Batman sees that Kathy is standing in a nearby doorway - she cannot have been Batwoman. Distracted by this revelation, Batman is caught off-guard by a chair to the back and is knocked into the pool at the center of the club. The Penguin starts shooting into the water as Batman sets up an underwater explosive to destroy the pool and serve as a distraction to allow him to slip away. 

Bruce escorts Kathy safely home, where they exchange apologies about the evening at the door. They nearly kiss, but are interrupted when one of the bodyguards enters and tells her that Duquesne is looking for her. Kathy leaves with the bodyguard once again. 

Batman and Sonia discuss the information they’ve uncovered at the lounge. Sonia points out that Kathy must not be Batwoman as they were seen at the lounge at the same time. Bruce provides Sonia with a piece of the restraining device that Batwoman had used on the Penguin as a piece of potential evidence. Sonia intimates that Batman saved her life nine years prior, during an arson fire set by Thorne’s lackeys, and that this incident is what led to her becoming a detective. Working in the batcave, Bruce identifies the material used in Batwoman’s restraining device as the same programmable alloy that Rocky was working with at Wayne Tech.

Rocky goes to prison visitation to see her boyfriend Kevin, who has been serving the past four years after being convicted of a crime actually committed by the Penguin. She tells him she is trying to get someone who works for the Penguin to talk, and Kevin expresses his displeasure that she is putting herself in danger by spying on known criminals. Kevin breaks up with her, telling her not to waste her time when it will be another five years before he will even be eligible for parole. She returns home and finds Batman waiting for her. He accuses her of being Batwoman, explaining he is aware that her boyfriend was framed and that he has found her more advanced designs for her alloy on her home computer. Rocky denies that she has done anything illegal, and Batman warns her about the dangers of continued vigilantism as Batwoman.

Thorne and the Penguin meet up with Duquesne to go meet with their new associate, tailed by Batwoman. After discussing the terms of their agreement, Bane and the Penguin go over their plans to transport the weapons that night, sailing them out to international waters onboard a luxury cruise ship. Batwoman listens in.

Batman abruptly realizes that he knew Rocky’s whereabouts during one of the previous Batwoman sightings, thus she cannot have been Batwoman either. Alfred passively remarks that she can’t be in two places at once unless she has the power to duplicate herself, causing Batman to consider that Kathy and Rocky could both be using the Batwoman persona. He asks Robin to investigate any possible link between the two women and goes to search for further evidence himself.

Batwoman returns to her secret lair with the details of the criminals’ plans in hand. Rocky appears from the shadows and says that Batman is onto her and will surely ruin their plans. As she worries, Kathy also enters the scene and agrees with her that Batman has been catching on too quickly. Batwoman points out that he thought Kathy was Batwoman only two days before and was now accusing Rocky, so he would probably move on to suspecting someone else soon. Removing her mask, Batwoman - revealed to be Sonia - assures them that she would know about it if he had any new theories. They are too close to success to quit now, and just have to stop the shipment tonight.

Batman breaks into Kathy’s room and begins searching for evidence that might tie her to Rocky or the Batwoman persona. As he stands in her art studio, flipping through her sketchbook, Robin contacts him to report that he has found no connection between them. Batman, however, recognizes one of the sketches, and tells Robin that the two women just needed someone to introduce them.

Kathy and Sonia review their plans to infiltrate the cruise ship carrying the weapons. Rocky provides Kathy with a bomb to destroy the weapons onboard, and Kathy sets out as Batwoman to disrupt the shipment. She boards just as the ship is leaving the harbor and successfully reaches the weapons cache, but as she is preparing to set the explosive she is suddenly attacked by Bane.

Thorne, the Penguin, and Duquesne are waiting for word of their success when the telephone rings. Bane has called them to report that he has captured the Batwoman and is waiting for them in the harbor. The three men hurry to leave.

Sonia is watching the ship from a rooftop when Batman joins her and accuses her of knowing Kathy. He shows her the drawing from Kathy’s sketchbook - a younger Sonia - and says that the two of them took art classes together. He then accuses that she also knows Rocky, Sonia attempts to deny this, but Batman knows that they were roommates as college freshmen. He continues his accusations by identifying her as the mastermind of their Batwoman scheme. Sonia, obligingly, delivers her Motive Rant about her desire to get revenge on Thorne for having ruined her parents’ business with his arson fire. As they stand in a moment of tension, Sonia’s phone rings. Rocky has called to report that something has gone terribly wrong with their plan, and asks Sonia what they are going to do.

The Penguin, Thorn, and Duquesne take a speedboat to rendezvous with the cruise ship in the harbor. Unknown to them, Batman and Robin follow via submarine. Onboard the cruise ship, the trio meet with Bane, who has captured Batwoman. Bane explains that he called them once he figured out who she was, and removes Batwoman’s mask, revealing Kathy to her father and his associates. Thorne and the Penguin immediately accuse Duquesne of duplicity, while Bane shows them the bomb she intended to plant onboard.

Duquesne and Kathy argue bitterly about their mutual feelings of betrayal. The Penguin realizes that he also saw Kathy and Batwoman at the club at the same time, and thus she must have accomplices. He threatens her with toxic gases, much to the dismay of Duquesne. Bane restrains Duquesne while the Penguin continues interrogating her, only to be interrupted once again by the arrival of Batman, who disarms Thorne and begins to battle Bane. Kathy, her hands cuffed behind her back, manages to kick the Penguin away and get her shackled hands in front of her before Batman grabs her mid-Tarzan Swing. They flee as Thorne shoots one of the plasma rifles at them, causing large amounts of destruction.

Bane contacts the crew to have them begin sailing out towards international waters as quickly as possible. Robin tails the cruise ship in the submarine, while in-costume Rocky and Sonia fly in, awaiting a signal from Batman. Thorne and Duquesne argue, while the Penguin notices that the bomb is missing, causing Bane to threaten Duquesne. Batman and Kathy have escaped to an engine room, where he removes her handcuffs and informs her that her friends are here to rescue her. Kathy plants the bomb, warning him that it can’t be removed without detonating and they now have two minutes before the explosion.

Thorne and the Penguin retreat to the speedboat, where they are spotted by the other Batwomen, who disarm them and demand to know Kathy’s location. Kathy and Batman escape to an outer pool deck, only to discover a chained and beaten Duquesne being swung above the pool by Bane. Bane tosses Duquesne into the pool, and Kathy dives in after him while Batman meets Bane. Underwater, Kathy attempts to unchain her father while Batman and Bane fight. When Bane is knocked from the higher deck of the ship while tangled in his own chain, Duquesne and Kathy are both rapidly pulled out of the water. Batman manages to ensure that they are on the deck before the bomb detonates, knocking him off the higher deck.

There are several inexplicable explosions that follow the bomb blast. Fire rapidly overtakes the weapon stores, which leads to another, larger explosion. The crew abandons ship. Rocky is seen flying with her cape and cowl on fire, which she removes. Sonia has been knocked into the water by the blast. Rocky swims to rescue her, but the Penguin spots her from the speedboat and attempts to run them over. Robin deflects the speedboat with the submarine, and takes Sonia aboard, leaving Rocky free to pursue the speedboat.

Bane and Batman continue their battle, which Batman, outmatched and injured, attempts to flee. Kathy is dangling by her cape from a piece of debris over a crater in the damaged ship. Duquesne looks over the ledge above her, sees her in this predicament, and crawls away. Her cape begins tearing, and she struggles to hold onto it, until a life ring is thrown down. Kathy grabs onto the life ring and Duquesne hauls her up to safety.

Thorne and the Penguin lament the sinking ship as they depart on the speedboat, commenting that at least it will take some Bats with it as it sinks. Rocky suddenly grapples onto the back of their boat from her rocket glider. Thorne attempts to shoot her down, but she uses the cable to entangle a buoy, which jerks the speedboat to a sudden stop and throws Thorne and the Penguin into the harbor.

Batman and Bane continue to fight, with Batman deploying a restraint device much like the one previously used on the Penguin by Batwoman. This manages to incapacitate Bane long enough that Batman can grapple himself away just before the ship strikes a bridge and runs aground. The impact causes Bane to fall into a pit of fire that is entirely without context. Batman dangles from his grappling device attached to the bridge, injured by Bane and struggling to hold on. Sonia, on her own rocket glider, manages to rescue him before he falls into the flaming debris below. Rocky and Sonia, Batman in tow, both confirm that Kathy and Duquesne are secure on another boat. Firefighters attempt to extinguish the blazing wreck as Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock observe the scene from a police boat. Sonia, unmasked, flies over to them to deliver the injured Batman to Commissioner Gordon.

At police headquarters, Sonia packs up her desk. Batman appears and expresses his belief that the city is losing a good cop with her exit. She reminds him that she is lucky she is not being prosecuted for her actions. Batman gives her an envelope, which he explains contains exculpatory evidence that will allow Rocky’s boyfriend Kevin to be released, and leaves.

Rocky and Kathy loiter outside the prison. Kathy explains that she used to hate her father, but now feels sorry for him since he’s been locked up. She inquires about Bruce, who she says has not been in contact with her since their disastrous date. The pair are interrupted by Kevin, freshly released. He and Rocky embrace, apparently no longer broken up. Kathy leaves them, only to find Bruce leaning against her car, waiting for her. The two of them drive off together as the credits music begins.

Do I even have the energy to review this?

It’s now been seven hours since I started watching this movie, which I was neither over- nor underwhelmed by. Consider me demiwhelmed maybe. The scene at the Iceberg Lounge includes an inexplicable pop song called Betcha Never which is performed by a cartoon cameo of the actual artist, Cherie, who was not to my knowledge even remotely recognizable or notable to the target audience of animated Batman films at the time. Overall it has not aged super well. 

The Metrics:

Bechdel Test: Failed. The three women don’t get a ton of screen time together, and when they do, they are exclusively talking about men.

Mako Mori Test: Failed. Each of these women is motivated solely by a desire to act against men who have wronged them, and do so whilst partially usurping the identity of another man. One of them is acting against a man who wronged another man and not herself.

Representation, etc:

For a movie that’s nominally about three women it’s kind of a shitshow in how it perceives and portrays women, even aside from the issues of their motivations mentioned above. Kathy is a major victim of this in particular.

Early on in the film, Alfred makes a reference to the Rudyard Kipling poem The Female of the Species. This is a fairly common cultural reference, but a sexist poem espousing sexist views. 

Kathy Duquesne is shown to be an avid and frivolous shopping enthusiast. At one point, while shopping, she says “Worst thing that could happen is I’ll need a size eight,” which is one of the most disturbingly open instances of body-shaming I’ve ever heard in media meant for CHILDREN.

Kathy is catcalled repeatedly by men who are presumably associates of her FATHER at the Iceberg Lounge, and this is not treated as harmful or even particularly bothersome to her.

Kathy’s father literally raises his hand to backhand her and tells her to shut up after she has been unmasked. This is, again, children’s media.

Bruce receives a brief call from Barbara Gordon in which she behaves jealously about the idea of a Batwoman and is openly flirtatious with him. Bruce appears to be in his 30s, Barbara is away at college and presumably no older than 21. Bruce gets out of this conversation by rustling papers and pretending his cell signal is breaking up.

All three female characters have essentially identical body models and extremely similar facial features. It would be extremely difficult to tell them apart if they weren’t designed as a white/black/latina trio.

When Rocky rescues Sonia who is at risk of drowning in the harbor, the way they are drawn and physically interact seems very much a creation by and for the male gaze. They also somehow manage to float in the water at about lower ribcage level, keeping those breasts well above the surface in clear defiance of the laws of physics.

There’s a ~fun~ little nugget of homophobia at one point when Rocky and Bruce are chatting. Rocky mentions that she is working late, but her boyfriend is very understanding. She then asks, “what about yours?” Before Bruce even reacts, she panics and corrects herself, clarifying that she meant girlfriend. Bruce, to his credit, responds that he doesn’t have anybody special.

Final Scores: 

Deaths: Batman doesn’t like killing people, so probably none. Bane did fall in that weird pit of flames though.

Smooches: None. Nearly one, interrupted.

Sex: None; this is for kids.

Substance Use/Abuse: Nope.

Violence: Moderate to heavy by kids standards, but I’d say about average for the superhero genre.

Profanity: None. 

Watch with Kids: I have real problems with the way women are portrayed in this and I probably wouldn’t let a child watch it.

Watch with Parents: Nothing in here is NSFP.

Sally Says: This is probably for DCAU/Batman fans only. Y’all, it’s been over nine hours since I started watching this freaking movie. It’s technically tomorrow for me now.

[audreycritter]

Written for @lurkinglurkerwholurks​ as a prompt response for @cerusee​ ‘s GoFundMe drive.

Rated M for Violence  Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson Father-Son Bonding, GenFic

Dick offers himself in exchange for some hostages and it does not go as planned.

“Bruce?”

The violin-string tautness of the word stilled Bruce’s world around him. He pressed the phone more tightly to his ear while the mug he clutched stung his palm with heat.

“Dick? What’s—”

He stopped when angry voices poured over the line. There was a clean, metallic snap that Bruce would have known anywhere, a sound that echoed behind him in some of his darkest nightmares. The click of a gun clip being pulled, a bullet sliding into the chamber.

“Hey,” Dick said thinly. “I, uh...well. Are you free this afternoon? I’m with some guys that want some ransom money, if you can spare it. Come alone, no police, you know the drill.”

“Are you on speaker phone?” Bruce found himself standing with no memory of pushing the chair back. The gun was a threat, he reminded himself, a litany beneath the terror swarming throughout every nerve. He had to think. A weapon was a display of power and they’d put off using it in hopes of getting what they really wanted.

“No, I, I’m fine,” Dick said.

Clever boy, Bruce thought with a flicker of pride.

“How many hostages and how much do they want?”

“Four, no, I mean five million. Yeah, okay, okay, don’t get pushy it was a simple mistake. Having a 9mm pressed to your skull makes it a little hard to think.”

“Where, Dick?”

“First Public National Bank, 37 Alexander Place in Bludhaven. B. Please. Just you. Please don’t bring anybody else.”

That gave Bruce pause. In his head, he was already coming in from the roof with batarangs to knock guns out of slippery, panicky fingers. He knew what Dick was asking even if nobody else on the other end did.

“Dick, that’s…”

“Please, Dad. Just bring the money. I don’t want trouble.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Dick?”

“B?”

“It’s going to be okay.”

Dick didn’t especially like reassurances from Bruce these days— Bruce didn’t often find himself in the position to offer them, anyway. Dick was capable and certain and quick and rarely needed help anymore. Still, Bruce didn’t think that was the reason the line went dead halfway through the sentence.

Dick also never called him Dad.

He gave Alfred a brief update while he packed the suit into its specialized case, tucked it in the trunk of one of his regular cars just as a precaution, and then drove with a lead foot the entire way to Bludhaven.

“You know who I am?” Dick asked, his gun raised and aimed. Five guns trained on the robbers were plenty so he slowly lowered his weapon in a show of goodwill.

The hostage the man was holding by the neck shivered, her teeth chattering from fear.

“A cop,” one robber said to the other, with a patronizing tone like it was a bad joke. His blank mask didn’t move.

The chatter of police radios and the shuffle of heavy boots on the marble floor were louder than they should have been. The few other hostages were crying.

“I’m Dick Grayson,” Dick said, taking another slow step forward. The hostage whimpered when the muzzle of the gun dug into her temple.

They were curious now, he could tell, looking at each other and then back at him.

“Bruce Wayne’s ward,” Dick said.

The entire room plunged into silence.

Four years ago he would have hated having to utter that fragment, sick of how it defined him and how people assumed they knew so much about him just from that— this scrap that barely could scratch the surface of what it meant and who Dick really was. Now, it slipped off his tongue with ease.

It’s more than a bargaining chip, he reminded himself. Bruce would tell you to use any advantage.

“Ward, huh,” one of them said. He was thinking about it, Dick could read it in the way his hand relaxed on his weapon. “What are you doing as a Blud cop? Seems to me like he might not be that interested in paying up for you if you’ve had to resort to this.”

“This is my way of giving back,” Dick said cautiously. He gave the hostage, who was now staring with open desperation at him, a friendly smile. “I like to help people. Bruce does, too. So why don’t we do this.”

“Grayson,” Amy hissed from behind him. He ignored her. She knew him well enough to know what he was doing and he wasn’t going to let her talk him out of it. This was the smart play.

“You give up the hostages. Take me. You can hold that piece to my head the whole time it takes him to drive here, if that makes you feel better. How much do you want?”

“Three million,” one of them snapped.

“That seems a little low,” Dick said, putting his gun on the floor. He slid it back to Amy with his foot and she swore at him. “How about four?”

“Yeah?” The one with the hostage in a chokehold nodded. “Yeah. Okay. But why offer us more?”

“You don’t think I’m worth at least four? Look at me,” Dick said. “I’m gorgeous.”

They both laughed— short barks of tense laughter, and the gun dropped from the hostage’s temple to wave him forward.

“Alright. Come on, you’re with me. We’re going to go hole up in that fancy office. Nobody move or breathe or Mr. Hotshot here gets one in the head for your trouble.”

The cold metal kissed the skin of his temple and held on, like a frigid leech. Dick gave a small wave to Amy.

“Single file,” the man said.

“Hey, hey,” Dick protested, keeping his voice easy. “Just me, okay? Let them go.”

It was hard now, to stay focused and keep the panic from cutting off his air. He was acutely aware in the moment of just how quickly things could go badly, more vividly than his calculated assessment from moments before when he’d considered his risk an obvious choice.

“I didn’t say that,” the man said. “You said that.”

Dick drew a breath in and let it out slow. He pulled himself to a small point and let his mind compress there. He was doing the right thing. Using Bruce, using himself, was the right thing to do.

“Okay, fair. You’re right. How about one, though? One for one? I’ll tell Bruce you asked for five.”

“One for you, kid, because you’ve got balls,” the other robber spoke. He flicked his semi-automatic rifle along the line of hostages. “Who we sending out? Your choice.”

Dick could hear the sadistic grin behind the mask. He fought the impulse to close his eyes and made himself instead think. He was the single pinpoint of purpose he’d drawn his mind into. What would Bruce do?

Teary, begging eyes locked onto him in sync.

“Who…” he had to clear his dry throat. “Who has kids?”

“Me,” one woman said, while a man said, “I do.”

“Ages,” Dick asked.

“Whoa, I did not authorize an interro—”

“Three,” the man said quickly, interrupting the robber.

“Nine and eleven,” the woman said, voice cracking.

“Him,” Dick said, ignoring the sick twist in his gut at the woman’s sob. It was a risk even hoping this data wouldn’t be used against them somehow.

“Go,” the robber said, with a jerk of his head toward the door. The man didn’t wait to be told twice— he took off running toward the police cars outside. He cleared the threshold with no sadistic shot fired after him.

Dick’s sweating palms stung when his fingernails pulled themselves back out of the calloused skin. He tried not to seem overly relieved.

One. He’d saved one so far.

One was better than none.

In single file, Dick and the rest were led into the loan office that fronted the vault. With a sense of dread, he realized the ceilings here were plaster— not the flimsy drop ceiling or towering glass roof of other sections.

One door out.

Hard ceiling.

A third robber in the corner, peeling himself out of the shadows with another high powered rifle.

“He took the bait,” he said.

“Like a fucking guppy,” the man with the gun to Dick’s temple replied. The leech bit deeper into his skin. “Now we make the call and wait for the Bat.”

“You’re sure he’ll come?” the second from the bank foyer asked.

“He always does for Wayne or anyone Wayne cares about. I’m telling you, he’s got the Bat in his damn pocket.”

Dick closed his eyes despite himself. He was an idiot. A predictable, heroic idiot. He’d waltzed right into this and now someone was holding a cell phone up for him to type in a string of digits.

Oh no.

He made the call.

It took five minutes of arguing with the Bludhaven chief of police, a briefcase clutched in one white-knuckled hand, for Bruce to even get them to consider sending him in.

Dick’s partner, Amy Rohrbach, sided with Bruce and did a lot to help convince her Chief. Bruce kept his grip on the handle of the case while they forced him into a bulky Kevlar vest and put a wire on him and then he was walking into the quiet, empty foyer with a dozen guns at his back.

He tried not to think about that.

Dick. He was here for Dick.

It had taken every ounce of willpower to keep from disregarding Dick’s warning and coming in with the cape wrapped around him, the mask on his face— but Dick would have had a good reason for insisting.

“Hello?” he called, forcing himself to sound casual and not angry.

“Keep coming, Richie. Back here.”

The voice came from the loan office. The thick, tempered glass had been designed to give privacy to those inside. Now, it did exactly it’s intended job— the shapes within were distorted, flickering fuzzy edges sliding along the wall.

Slow and careful steps brought him to the threshold. He had one arm raised in surrender. He stopped just short of the door.

“How are we going to do this?” he asked. “What’s your exit plan?”

There was low arguing from inside and then the door swung open.

“You are,” the man said, a gun in Bruce’s face.

Beneath the Kevlar, under his button-up that was not the Batsuit, his heart stuttered. His face betrayed nothing, he was sure.

“We’re going to walk you and your pretty little boy out to our van,” the man said, calmly. “And if anyone so much as twitches, we’re going to kill one of you. We’ll decide which when we get there. Capiche?”

“Dick,” Bruce called into the room. With a breath, he stepped toward the gun. Then, his breath left him.

“Hey, B,” Dick rasped, from his seat on the floor. He had both arms behind his head and in the cable ties they’d used, one wrist was at a crooked angle and angry red. His lip was swollen and dried blood flecked one corner of his mouth and was smeared brown-burgundy beneath his nose. An eye was swelling shut.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Bruce growled, taking another step. The gun caught him in the chest, and he pushed against it anyway.

“He’s not the best at following instructions, but I’m guessing you knew that, Dad,” the gunman said.

“I’m okay, B,” Dick said.

“That the cash?” another gunman asked. “At least we get paid.”

“It’s not too late,” a third said.

“Let them go,” Bruce said, taking in the hostages lined up along the wall. They looked terrified but physically unharmed. He could at least keep them that way. He looked at the gunman. “Let them go. And my boy. My estate’s attorney is authorized to meet ransom demands for twice this. Keep just me and you can triple your take.”

The gunman closest to him whistled. “Like father, Iike son. You know, he made the same offer?”

Dick forced a sheepish grin around a broken tooth. It didn’t reach his eyes— they met Bruce’s and there was something there genuinely frightened. What exactly was going on?

“Back door,” the gunman closer to Dick said. He hauled him up. “We’re going right now, two by two just like Noah’s fucking animals. Me and you, Handsome, my buddy and your dad, and Little John’s gonna take the case of cash.”

A hand tightened on Bruce’s arm and he had to shake the instinct to flip the man over.

The other hostages.

They were leaving them behind.

“It’s your lucky day,” the last gunman said to them, pulling the door closed. He raised his voice. “Count to sixty and you’re free. A second sooner and you get a bullet in the back.”

They waited in the hall by the rear exit and it was a full minute later by the wall clock that the hostages spilled out of the room and staggered for the door. They disappeared out of the foyer with shouts and hold fire cries, and in the same second the rear exit door was shoved open and Bruce and Dick hauled through toward the van.

Four hostages. Four lives.

Four people had made it out.

The cops standing guard at the back held their fire when they saw the gunmen with Bruce and Dick at gunpoint. Nobody moved while they climbed into the back of the gray van. One man started the engine after setting the case of cash down and then they started driving.

No one stopped them.

Bruce sat on the floor across from Dick, who had let his head thud backward against the van wall. His hands were still behind him.

“I’m moving to sit with him,” Bruce announced.

“Nah, I think you’re—”

“For Christsake, we’re unarmed in a moving van. I’m going to sit with my kid and check him out. He said he was fine on the phone.”

Bruce moved without waiting for permission. They didn’t stop him. He pressed his shoulder up against Dick’s and leaned his head down.

“How are you doing, chum?”

Dick’s voice was choked even when he laughed. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he said. “They wanted you to send your friend.”

“Hey!” the gunman with Dick kicked him in the leg. Dick curled toward Bruce, who scowled but didn’t dare let himself do more.

So, it had been a trap. For Batman.

And then it clicked.

They were still waiting for Batman to come to get him. Bruce could have laughed, but it would have been a dry and ugly sound, entirely without humor.

“M’sorry,” Dick said, his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder. “I fucked up.”

“No, Dickie,” Bruce said, watching their captors like a hawk while they watched him in return. “You saved four people, chum.”

“Five,” Dick said faintly. “They let one go for me.”

Bruce was worried about Dick’s head and how hard they’d hit him. He glared at the gunman closest.

“Cut off the cable ties. You broke his wrist. He’s not going to do much and you could leave it permanently damaged. When— not if, when— you are caught, I will make sure the court remembers that detail.”

“Fine.”

Bruce could practically hear the man rolling his eyes. A pocket knife was withdrawn and Dick winced when the ties were cut. He slumped against Bruce as soon as his arms were free to pull in front of him, one arm cradled against his chest. The kid seeking comfort was a role he was expected to play and for once Bruce was grateful for the excuse it gave them both. He wrapped his arm around Dick’s shoulders.

The vest was useless here or Bruce would have insisted they let them swap it from his body to Dick’s. They’d go for point blank headshot at this range, and Bruce had to close his eyes to keep from seeing the vivid red blood all over his dress slacks.

“You okay?” Dick mumbled against him.

“Fine,” Bruce said, working on evening out his breathing again before it was noticeable to more than Dick.

“How far, Boss?” The gunman driver pressed on the gas. From the motion of the van, Bruce guesses they’d climbed onto the interstate. They had to know the police would be following them, but he didn’t know how much the police would push without a clear visual.

“Take us all the way into Gotham,” the gunman closest to Bruce said. He reached out with his gun and nudged at the vest; the other gunman in the back stretched his arm out and with a flick of the pocket knife sliced the police wire clean in two.

Bruce hadn’t expected the poorly hidden wire to last as long as it had.

“The Fort Kane tunnel,” the gunman said to the driver. “You remember which access door? You let us out fast, and keep going. You’re on your own after that and your cut is forfeit if you lead anyone back to us.”

“Got it,” the driver said.

Bruce took advantage of their expectations to press a kiss to Dick’s forehead.

“We’ll be alright,” he said, because he was supposed to, because he was going to make sure of it. “How are you doing?”

“Mhmm,” Dick said, dazedly. “Just dandy.”

He should have worn the suit. He should have come in and taken the bullet to the chest and dealt with the broken ribs later.

Dick must hate him. They wouldn’t even be in this situation if Bruce weren’t such an easy and lucrative target. His name, it seemed, had brought nothing but trouble for years— no wonder Dick had spent most of his late teens trying to distance himself.

If anything, Bruce wasn’t going to let him suffer more for their connection. Just let them try again to touch his partner, his best friend, his boy.

Damn the exposure or questions it would raise.

They wanted Batman?

They’d get Batman.

The pounding in his head matched every step from the tunnel access door all the way through the maze of passages and up to a service elevator that led to a terraced roof.

Penguin.

Oswald himself sat at a table with a milky white drink, his umbrella cane resting on the edge of his chair. He was cracking crab legs and dipping them in steaming butter and he did not look happy.

“Where,” he said, the second they stumbled into the twilight, “is the Bat.”

Dick’s arm throbbed in a way that made him feel like puking.

“He didn’t show, Boss. Maybe he can’t fly as far as Blud. We brought more bait though.”

“Bait,” Oswald hissed, glaring at them with that dead eye stare. He reminded Dick sometimes not of his chosen moniker, but of its prey— a fish, cold and lifeless out of water. “You brought Bruce Wayne here. How stupid, exactly, are you?”

“And five mil,” one of the gunman offered, sounding uncertain for the first time. “Wayne said his attorney could bring another fifteen.”

“Oh, so twenty million should be plenty to convince the Batman to simply...slit his own throat. I could have saved myself so much time if—”

Later, Dick would realize that the moment Oswald reached for his cane to stand up was the moment someone on a far off roof perceived the motion as a threat, but with his aching, muddled head there was no obvious correlation.

Oswald reached, mid-sentence, for the cane and there were twin pops in the air. The hand on Dick’s arm— the gunman— jerked and Dick whipped his head toward Bruce.

He was just in time to see Bruce full-body flinch, an unusual break in his iron self-control, while the face of the gunman on that side exploded into a pink cloud that settled wetly on their skin.

The two bodies hit the roof with a gurgling emptiness, twitching and then still. A loudspeaker boomed into the falling night air.

“This is the Gotham PD. Everyone put your hands up.”

Dick and Bruce raised their hands with everyone else and Dick bit back the bile that rose in his throat.

Seconds later, the roof was swarmed by the SWAT officers that must have just settled into position. Dick looked at Bruce, whose mouth was set in a grim line; it softened when Dick caught his eye.

“Guess we don’t need our friend after all,” Dick tried to joke.

“He should have shown up hours ago,” Bruce said firmly.

“Hey,” Dick said, as they were given permission to lower their arms. An EMT was peppering him with questions and he ignored it for another second. “We both made it. And the civilians. Thank you for coming when I called.”

“Of course,” Bruce said, his brow furrowing like Dick had just complimented him on breathing.

“No allergies,” Dick mumbled to the EMT’s insistent question. Was there a reason the woman’s voice was cutting in and out? Or that he felt so heavy all of a sudden?

Then a firm arm was around him, holding him up, and Bruce was answering her questions.

“M’Bruce.” Dick slurred to her with a smile. “He knows...e’erythin.”

The last thing he was aware of before passing out was the distinct sensation of someone wiping off his face with a cloth that felt a lot like shirtsleeve.

Dick woke suddenly, aware that something in the room had changed and not sure what. He blinked into the dim morning light that sifted through the cracked curtains. He had vague memories of being checked out at the hospital, of his arm being set, of being driven home by Alfred with Bruce next to him on the bench seat.

The memories solidified into more definite details but he couldn’t quite remember falling asleep— maybe it had been on a couch or while walking up the stairs.

A faint wheeze grabbed his attention, and oh— maybe this was what had woken him.

Bruce was in the chair beside the bed, bent over with his head in his hands. The raspy inhalations matched tremor running up and down Bruce’s tense shoulders under his thin tee.

“B?” Dick murmured. His own voice was hoarse.

There was a terse head shake and then silence while Bruce struggled for normal breaths. Dick sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and Bruce held up a single hand to stop him.

With a forced exhale, Bruce sat up and back in the chair and stared blankly ahead.

“Bruce?” Dick ventured. He slipped out of the bed and crouched in front of Bruce. His arm was in a cast and it protested at the movement.

That distant gaze drifted down to his face, still far away and unfocused.

“Hm?” Bruce said.

“B,” Dick said again.

Bruce rubbed at his knee, at spots that weren’t there on his pajama pants. He scrubbed hard at his cheek and then his eyes settled on Dick again. He frowned.

“Dick. Why are you out of bed?”

“You were having some kind of flashback, I think,” Dick said softly. “You alright?”

Bruce swallowed. “Hn. I’m fine. Bed, chum.”

Because he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere else otherwise, and because his head still hurt, Dick complied. Bruce got up and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged a minute later with flecks of water on his shirt and his skin bright with flush of cold water. He reclaimed the seat by Dick’s bed and offered a glass of water.

Dick took it and drained half, then set it down.

The gunshots. Right by their ears. Dick wondered how many scraps of nightmare Bruce had suffered over the past several hours, and if he’d even slept at all.

“I’m sorry, B,” Dick began. “I was just trying to use my advantage. I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess.”

Bruce gave a slight shrug. He was studying his clasped hands.

“I…” Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m sorry...my name…has brought you so much trouble. Use it as often as you need, Dick, it’s yours to use— but don’t...you’re not disposable, Dick.”

“You know the job has risks,” Dick said gently. This was dangerous territory on an emotionally fraught morning. “I accepted those. Both in and out of…the mask.”

“I know that,” Bruce snapped. “Don’t you think I know you’ve decided and I know I can’t stop you?”

There was choking quiet.

“Can we talk about this—” Dick began, as a truce.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said. “I’m...I’m not ready to lose another...another…”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Son. I’m not ready to lose another son, Dick. Maybe you had the right idea out of high school, the distance you wanted to keep, and I’d never ask you to—”

“No,” Dick said harshly. “No. I was a stupid kid. This, this is worth it to me. It’s more than just a tool. I love being your former ward as much as I love being the first...well, you know. I’m sorry I used it like that yesterday and put you in danger, too. It was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

Bruce gave a dry huff of a laugh.

“Technically,” he said.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” Dick asked.

Bruce shook his head. Dick flicked the covers back.

“C’mon, grab a few hours. It’ll help keep me put.”

There was a deep yawn from Bruce while he obliged and slipped beneath the covers and wrapped Dick in his arms.

“You did good, Dick. Five people saved and you kept your head even in a trap.”

“Thank you for listening to me,” Dick said. “I don’t think...I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d been the reason someone took you down”

“Dick, if you were there to get out, nobody could stop me.”

“There’s the Bruce I know and love,” Dick teased, a lump in his throat. “See? That’s exactly why I’m glad I’m Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s Former Ward. Danger or not, it’s worth it.”

“Next time you want to use my name as a bargaining chip, wrap yourself in bubble wrap and Kevlar first,” Bruce said petulantly. “There’s no need to take unnecessary risks.”

Dick laughed and tucked his head against Bruce’s chest. “I’ll make a note, Dad. Get some sleep.”

“Mmm. You, too,” Bruce said. “You sleep so I know exactly where you are, brat.”

“I think that’s fair for one more day,” Dick agreed. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

[notstars-doors]

Take Me Back To The Start

Dick and Wally haven't seen each other in eight years. After breaking up in their early twenties, life and families and Doomsday events just kept getting in the way. Now, both single with kids, they find each other again. Can they build a life together, after all this time? Can they put aside their old problems and help each other through their new ones? Only time will tell - if they let it. 

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16527137/chapters/38714402

"Liv, you've got so many AUs already half written! Are you ever going to finish them instead of coming up with new ones every few months and then disappearing again?"

*throws another one at y'all and crawls back into my hovel

I'm just trying to have a good time, okay?

(sidenote: big shoutout to @lesbiangraysons​ for all the help with this fic, literally could not have come up with half of the ideas for it without you <3)

When Dick wakes up in the morning, Wally isn’t there.

He stretches out leisurely, his arm reaching across the bedsheet in search of a body that isn’t there. Dick frowns through his sleepy daze, lifting his head and blinking open tired eyes to see empty space next to him.

Hm.

Sitting up slowly, he gazes around the room. No clothes on the floor, the door ajar – no sign of Wally at all. The sinking feeling in his chest starts to settle into a heavy lump in his gut as he curls his knees against his chest, burying his hands in his hair. He really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. It’s not like Wally to just up and leave without saying good-bye, but then again, does he really know Wally anymore?

It’s not like they’d set any rules or discussed future plans. They hadn’t really discussed anything since getting back to his apartment last night. They didn’t really find the time.

~

“New place then?”

Dick smiled as he unlocked the door. “Needed a little more space.”

“Did Bruce buy this building too?” Wally chuckled, leaning against the door frame.

“I didn’t actually ask for this one. He just… did it.”

Wally shook his head, a stupid grin plastered on his face. “Some things never change.”

Dick lead the way into the apartment, tossing his jacket on the rack to their right, Wally following suit. “You expected change from Bruce Wayne?”

“I learned a long time ago to never expect anything from Bruce Wayne.”

Dick grinned, flopping down onto the soft, worn leather of his couch. Wally – in proper Wally fashion – made his way into the kitchen. He rifled through cupboards, clearly disappointed in his lack of findings, then opened the fridge. Dick sent him a sheepish smile as Wally turned to him, gesturing exaggeratedly to the empty space within.

“Dude. You’re thirty-two. How are you a grown-ass man and you’re still incapable of feeding yourself?”

“…Alfred?”

“Jesus…” Wally huffed and swung the door shut, crossing the room to settle on the couch next to Dick. “Some things really don’t change.”

Dick laughed and poked Wally in the side with his toe. “You sure haven’t.”

“Oh?” Wally grabbed Dick’s ankle before he could pull away, raising a challenging eyebrow. “How so?”

“Still a glutton.”

“Speedster.”

“Same thing.”

Wally’s eyes narrowed, a glint of mischief flashing through them before he yanked on Dick’s trapped ankle and pulled him flat on his back. Dick yelped in surprise, hair disheveled from static cling, as Wally shifted on the cushions to hover over him.

~

Dick shakes his head, clearing the memory from his mind. Don’t think about that now. It happened. It’s in the past.

The past was about six hours ago, but it was still the past.

He slips an old pair of sweatpants on, stepping out of the bedroom and padding into an empty apartment. Empty living room, empty kitchen. Dick swallows hard, making his way through as if he isn’t disappointed. As if he hadn’t been hoping Wally would be sitting at the island. Waiting for him.

He doesn’t know why he thought Wally would stay. They’d found each other in a bar by chance. This wasn’t a date. It was a hook up. Casual.

Simple.

Wasn’t it simple?

Dick sighs, switching on his coffee machine and waiting for it to brew. Too much shit in his head to deal with before coffee, that’s for sure. As he watches the dark liquid drip into the pot, he leans against the counter with a sigh.

Alright, so they have a history. They’d dated. But Dick has stayed friends with every one of his exes, it’s one of his few natural talents. Zatanna, Roy, Kori… they all stayed in touch. He has to with Kori, they have Mar’i together, but they still love each other. That’s never gone away.

But somehow, he and Wally haven’t seen each other in eight years.

A lot can change in eight years.

~

“Anything different about me?” He asked softly, planting his hands on either side of Dick’s head.

Dick pondered it for a moment, gaze flickering over Wally’s face. Eight years had done good things for his old best friend. Wally still looked as good as he did when they were younger, but his jaw was sharper – a little more square. His hair had gone more of a copper tone than the bright fiery orange it used to be, and the laugh lines around his eyes were more prominent. His green eyes were darker too, a deep emerald that Dick could see himself getting lost in if given the time.

Wally was different, but in very subtle ways. His cockiness was confident without the bravado – like he finally understood how attractive he really was. His movements weren’t awkward or gangly. There wasn’t anything gangly about him anymore. Even at twenty-two, Wally hadn’t fully grown into himself – now, at thirty-two, he definitely had.

“Not really.” Dick murmurs, eyes falling to those oh-so-familiar lips a few inches above him. “You’re still… you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Wally leaned in a bit, watching every change of Dick’s expression for discomfort – like he used to.

“Is that a good thing?”

Dick bit down on his lower lip, wondering if that still effected Wally the way it used to.

“I think so.”

When Dick finally closed the gap between them, Wally met him halfway.

~

Dick jumps a little when the coffee machine beeps, not realizing how caught up in his thoughts he’d gotten.

It’d been nice – really nice – to catch up again after all this time. To learn about each other all over again and fill in those missing pieces of their lives. How they’d managed to slip past each other for eight years, Dick would never know. He supposes that marriage and kids and world-ending events sort of get in the way of that kind of thing. But seeing as they both still know Roy, Dick wonders how valid that argument really is.

Maybe they just didn’t know how to find each other again after drifting apart like they had.

It’s not an easy thing to do when you’d been with someone every day for so many years, only to suddenly realize that you weren’t the same people anymore. Things had changed, and you didn’t see it coming. You didn’t fit anymore.

We fit together well enough last night. So, what does that mean?

Dick rubs the sleep out of his eyes, leaning heavily against the edge of the counter. That doesn’t matter anymore. Wally’s gone. Wally left, without saying goodbye. None of that matters anymore if Dick isn’t going to see him ever again.

Maybe in another eight years time. Maybe they’ll run into each other again and have another night of desperate nostalgia.

Dick wills away the hope that wells up in his chest at the thought.

He takes a mug out of the cupboard, about to pour out the steaming liquid, when he hears the front door open with a click. Suddenly wide awake, Dick whirls on the spot, muscles tensed and ready for conflict – only to see a tall, redheaded figure creeping into the dimly lit front hall.

Wally.

Wait – what?

“Wally?” Dick asks softly, his throat still dry and scratchy from sleep. He’s not sure if that’s why his voice breaks.

Wally spins on his heel, revealing a brown paper bag and a coffee tray with two cups in hand. The brilliant smile on Wally’s face when he sees him knocks the breath out of Dick’s lungs. “Oh hey, you’re up!”

Dick blinks in surprise, staring at the items as Wally gets closer, carrying them over to the island and setting them down next to his coffee mug. “Uh. Yeah.”

“I figured I’d go get breakfast, since we’ve already established that you’re useless when it comes to food. I wasn’t sure if you still take your coffee the same but there was a Starbucks and I still remember your old order, so I just took a chance and-” Wally seems to notice the mildly shocked expression that must be on Dick’s face, pausing to stare at him for a moment. “You okay?”

Dick shakes his head to clear it for the second time that morning, still a little thrown from the emotional whiplash of Wally coming back. He’d been gearing for a day of trying to forget Wally. Forgetting his touch, his voice, his… everything. And now Wally’s standing in front of him again, breakfast in hand, having woken up early to fetch it for them because for once, Dick is unprepared.

“Uh, yeah. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Dick plucks the paper cup with his name on it out of the tray and takes a sip, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards when he tastes the coffee order he’s been using for the better part of a decade. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Wally frowns, glancing down at the mug on the counter, then back up at up Dick, who’s desperately trying to avoid his gaze. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together.

“You didn’t… you didn’t think that I-”

“No, of course not-”

“I swear, I’ve only been gone five minutes.”

“Wally, it’s fine-”

Dick doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before finding himself pressed against the edge of the counter, coffee cup snatched out of his hands – which is good, because he uses both to catch himself on the cool marble surface as Wally invades his space. His breath hitches in his chest as Wally traps him between both arms – much like he’d done the night before – gaze stern as he stares into Dick’s eyes.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go again, did you?”

Dick almost swallows his own tongue when his heart decides to leap into his throat at those words. He can feel his cheeks warming at the close proximity. His heart is pounding, pulse racing. He feels like a giddy teenager again, and Dick wonders if that’s just the way that Wally makes him feel. How he’s always made him feel.

Wally doesn’t give him the chance to answer, nudging his nose gently against Dick’s in a soft gesture that he hasn’t felt in a very long time. “I just found you again… You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

It takes a gargantuan effort to find his voice, and when he does, it’s sarcastic. “I mean, technically you’re the one who left, so really who’s to blame here-”

The smile that spreads across Wally’s face is even more brilliant than the last, and if given the chance that alone would have shut Dick up, but it doesn’t because Wally is kissing him now and he tastes like coffee and vaguely of powdered sugar and Dick is absolutely melting into it. Wally’s hands come up to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing gently over the short stubble on his cheeks, and the touch has Dick grasping at Wally’s baggy t-shirt like his life depends on it.

He’s being pressed hard into the countertop and he really doesn’t care because Wally’s mouth is on his, warm and familiar and so, so Wally and regardless of anything they did last night, it still takes his breath away. It’s like vertigo and déjà vu all at once, the feeling of Wally’s body against his. It’s so familiar, yet still so different – bigger, stronger, but still everything that makes him Wally. Every touch is new, but practiced, as if they’ve done all this before – because they had. Years of friendship, of a relationship, of a complicated and intertwining history that ended so long ago, but picked right up again where it left off. They’ve both changed, obviously, yet somehow still know each other well enough to drive themselves crazy.

Dick’s hands drop lower, resting on Wally’s hips, and would have wandered further if he didn’t feel a recognizable fabric hugging his waistline. His fingers dip into the band, snapping gently at the elastic as he breaks the kiss with a smile.

“Did you steal my sweatpants?”

Wally grins against his lips, both of their eyes staying closed as they lean their foreheads together. “Didn’t have any of my own here. And I figured we were still the same size.”

“That’s a bold assumption, thinking you can just steal my clothes like that.”

“What can I say? I’m hopeful.”

Dick opens his eyes at that, watching Wally look up and meet them with his own. Despite the laugh lines carved permanently in the corners, those eyes haven’t changed one bit. They still shine the same way they did after their very first kiss, still glint in joy and swim with worry the same way they had when they were seventeen and stupidly in love.

If there’s anything that Wally West has always been, it’s hopeful.

And if there’s anything in particular that made Dick fall in love with him all those years ago, it was that optimism.

Maybe that optimism is contagious. Or maybe that desperate nostalgia is clouding his judgement. But for the first time in a while, Dick feels comfortable. He feels wanted.

He feels right.

In Wally’s arms, warm and fuzzy and just a little lightheaded, Dick feels like this could be right again. If they give it a shot.

Dick thinks maybe they could.

“So, what’s for breakfast?”

[thedcdunce]

Deadshot

“They're wrong. If I wanted to be dead, I would be. I don't want to die. I just don't care if I do.” - Deadshot

Real Name: Floyd Lawton

Gender: Male

Height: 6′ 1″

Weight: 202 lbs (92 kg)

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Brown

Abilities:

Marksmanship

Enhanced Senses

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Weaponry

Bilingualism

Equipment:

Wrist-mounted guns

Universe: 

Earth-One

New Earth

Citizenship: American

Base of Operations: Gotham City

Parents:

George Lawton; father

Genevieve Lawton; mother

Marital Status: Divorced (Susan Lawton; wife)

Occupation: 

Assassin

Mercenary

First Appearance: Batman #59 (June, 1950)

Abilities

Marksmanship: Deadshot is said to "never miss."

Enhanced Senses: It's implied that Deadshot possesses senses far beyond a normal human being.

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Weaponry

Bilingualism: Floyd Lawton is bilingual. He learned to speak Russian as a youth, and also claims to have been a card-carrying communist.

Equipment

Wrist-mounted guns: Deadshot has a wrist-mounted gun on each arm. They fire magnum bullets when he presses a trigger button on his palm. They also contain a grappling hook that allows him to swing across buildings.

Personality

In his psychological profile, Marnie Herrs says that Floyd Lawton has strong self-destructive urges. Herrs believes that he is looking for a way to die, and he hopes the Suicide Squad will provide one. Despite this, she says there is another side of him that wants to be well and does not know how. Captain Boomerang asks why he chooses to live in a prison cell, and Deadshot replies that "a bed's a bed." He has described himself as similar to Rick Flag, and states that they are both "lone wolves" who "don't fit in the pack." Herrs asks him about his sexual relationships, and he says that he exclusively visits prostitutes. He prefers sex to be simple like a business transaction, and hates figuring out what women want in relationships.

Floyd Lawton has told Marnie Herrs that life means nothing to him. His brother was the only person he ever cared about. He claims to have felt nothing, no guilt or remorse, when he killed his brother. He says the only life anybody really cares about is their own, and he does not even care about that. In his own words, he is "killing time, waiting to die." He tells Marnie that evil is real, and the only way to cure some people is with a bullet to the head. When his son was killed and he murdered the people responsible, he described this as a necessary action to protect his reputation. This was accompanied by an emotional outburst. Marnie Herrs accused him of being unable to admit his feelings because he could not deal with his own anger and grief.

History

Floyd Lawton is Deadshot, known as the world's deadliest marksman. His weapons of choice are two guns mounted on each wrist. He began his career as a vigilante in Gotham City, but he later became a highly-priced assassin and mercenary. He has been a core member of the Secret Six and the Suicide Squad.

Origins

Floyd Lawton grew up as a member of the idle rich. His father George Lawton made money in real estate, and his mother Genevieve Pitt belonged to a family of wealthy bankers. His brother Edward Lawton was a golden child, described as the opposite of Floyd. Both parents doted on Edward while treating Floyd poorly, but Floyd still grew up idolizing his older brother. George was unfaithful and cruel to Genevieve, so she asked her sons to kill their father. Eddie locked Floyd in the boathouse when Floyd tried to warn his father. Floyd broke out and grabbed his hunting rifle. Eddie had already shot their father in the second-floor library, paralyzing George for life, and was preparing to kill him. Floyd climbed a tree and aimed to disarm his brother, but a branch snapped and he shot Eddie between the eyes. He killed the brother he loved to save the father he hated. This incident was covered up to avoid dishonoring the family name. George denied Genevieve a divorce and forced her to live alone on a small stipend.

Some time after that, Lawton sought the training of the professional assassin David Cain, who instructed Lawton and taught him his marksmanship abilities.

The Man Who Replaced Batman

Floyd Lawton moved to Gotham City where he started living as a millionaire playboy. Wearing a domino mask, top hat, and tuxedo, he became the gun-toting vigilante Deadshot. Deadshot worked closely with Commissioner Gordon during Batman's absence. He became popular enough that they build a "Deadshot Signal" to replace the Bat-Signal. Batman investigated Deadshot and found that he was in cahoots with criminals to distract police from more serious crimes. During the final confrontation, Deadshot is unable to kill Batman as the Dark Knight had tampered his weapons. Like this, Lawton was arrested and sent to prison.

Strange Apparitions

Years later, Deadshot broke out of prison after becoming a hardened convict, who no longer cared about hurting innocent bystanders. He blamed Batman for ruining his life and tried to kill him using a new red suit with wrist-mounted guns. Their battle took them to a convention hall where Batman defeated Deadshot on top of a Giant Typewriter.

A short time later, Rupert Thorne broke Deadshot out of prison and hired him to assassinate Bruce Wayne, who he believed was Batman. The Human Target was hired to pose as Bruce Wayne while Batman fought Deadshot. When Deadshot saw them together, he tried to kill both of them, but the Human Target took him down. This proved to Thorne and a suspicious Vicki Vale that Bruce was not Batman.

Later, Batman visited Deadshot in prison for information on Thorne and broke him out when he learned the corrupt warden wanted them both dead. Deadshot was held prisoner in the Batcave, blindfolded so he does not know its location. Much later, Deadshot was hired to kill Julia Remarque as part of a plot with Syrian terrorists. Deadshot and the whole terrorist organization was defeated by Batman with help from Julia and Alfred Pennyworth.

Deadshot is seen as a member of the super-villain army during the Crisis on Infinite Earths, where he is defeated by the Creeper. Batman later receives a note that says "Know your foes," so he uses the Batcomputer to educate Jason Todd on many villains including Deadshot. Ra's al Ghul releases every super-villain in Gotham's prison and Arkham Asylum on Batman's first anniversary. Deadshot helps the Joker take over GCPD Headquarters, but Batman stops them and Talia al Ghul takes down Deadshot.

Legends

Deadshot is arrested by The Flash while pulling a robbery in Manhattan. Amanda Waller sends Bronze Tiger and Rick Flag to visit him in Riker's Island, offering him a pardon if he will come to work with Task Force X. Deadshot is placed as a member of the new Suicide Squad, and he kills their target Brimstone at Mount Rushmore with an experimental laser rifle. He does not leave when the others are released after this mission. Waller asks Deadshot to assassinate Captain Boomerang when Boomerang threatens to reveal the Suicide Squad to the public. Rick Flag knocks Deadshot's rifle out of the way, and has Enchantress solve the problem non-lethally.

Suicide Squad

Deadshot decides to stay with the Suicide Squad for personal reasons, living out of Belle Reve prison in Louisiana. His psychologist Marnie Herrs suggests that he joined the team because of a personal death wish. Their next mission is attacking the Jihad in Qurac. Deadshot is supposed to neutralize Manticore, and he kills Manticore by shooting him in the face point blank. When Belle Reve is attacked by the Female Furies, Deadshot refuses to help and says that security was not part of his deal. He impersonates the racist vigilante William Hell to discredit him at a white power rally. They are later sent to arrest Firestorm. Deadshot is not allowed to kill, but he nearly murders Blue Beetle out of anger before Rick Flag knocks him unconscious. His ability to speak Russian is useful when they are sent to kidnap Zoya Trigorin in Moscow. Enchantress goes on a rampage, and he is forced to take her down with a non-lethal shot. This leads to a shootout with the Russian army. In their battle against the People's Heroes, Deadshot fights Molotov using random projectiles because he does not have a gun. Enchantress tries to kill the defenseless Deadshot in revenge, but Boomerang knocks her out. In one of their therapy sessions, Deadshot accuses Marnie Herrs of not caring about her patients and she slaps him in the face. He kisses her, then leaves and tells her it did not happen. Warden Economos sends the Squad to kill Manhunters during Millennium. They battle androids in the swamp until Boomerang and Deadshot are both out of ammo, but they manage to survive the encounter. The Squad does not receive credit for this victory. Deadshot has to fight his oldest enemy when Batman infiltrates Belle Reve. Batman is able to knock Deadshot out, but later says that he knows Deadshot is pulling his shots for Waller.

Rick Flag disobeys Waller and takes the Suicide Squad to rescue Nemesis in Moscow. Waller angrily has Justice League International sent to stop them. Batman tells Deadshot not to waste his time by pulling shots again, and Deadshot angrily relents. Mister Miracle tries to fight Deadshot, but Deadshot wins and holds him at gunpoint. The teams stop fighting, and Bronze Tiger has to hit Deadshot to stop him from executing Mister Miracle. His gun goes off, but nobody is sure if this was intentional. In his next therapy session with Marnie Herrs, Deadshot reveals that he has an ex-wife and son. He decides to stop seeing Marnie for therapy because of the sexual tension between them. Nightshade takes everyone to a mission in the Land of the Nightshades, and they are captured by Incubus. Incubus is bonded to Nightshade's brother Larry Eden, so Deadshot ends the fight by shooting Larry in the head. They are next trapped in the Zero Zone, and Deadshot fights Zone creatures until Shade the Changing Man helps them get home. The Jihad returns and Deadshot is sent to neutralize their speedster Jaculi, so he shoots her in the kneecap. Jaculi tells him to kill her or she will come back for him, and Deadshot replies "I believe you" then kills her.

Beginnings

Deadshot begins taking more suicide missions, and he eliminates the last member of the gang he used to run with. He is sent undercover to kill a crimelord named El Jefe, and he slaughters a plane full of gangsters then falls out as it crashes. Black Orchid rescues him. His ex-wife Susan Lawton asks him for help, and Deadshot decides to take a leave of absence from the Suicide Squad. Marnie Herrs takes a leave of absence to follow him for answers about his past. Susan tells Deadshot that their son Edward was kidnapped. Deadshot tracks down his old associates, who are holding his son until he completes an old contract. He refuses to negotiate, and tortures these men to get the location of his son. Deadshot goes on a rampage killing everyone involved with the kidnapping of his son, including the expert sniper Pantha. Edward is trusted to a pedophile named Wes Anselm, who rapes him and accidentally kills him. Deadshot arrives too late and executes Anselm. This leads him to the real mastermind, his mother Genevieve Pitt. Deadshot's mother wanted him to kill his father George Lawton, completing the "contract" that lead to the death of Deadshot's brother. Marnie Herrs convinces Deadshot not to kill his mother, and instead, he cripples her the same way his father is crippled. In the aftermath, Marnie encourages Floyd to come back to therapy, but Floyd insists there is no cure for what he is.

Final Round

The Suicide Squad was blackmailed by Derek Tolliver and Senator Cray, so Rick Flag decided to assassinate both of them. Flag was unaware that Amanda Waller had already dealt with this situation privately. Waller realized what he was planning, and sent the entire Suicide Squad to stop Rick Flag from killing Senator Cray "by whatever means necessary." Simon LaGrieve insisted that Deadshot was not mentally fit to go on this mission after the death of his son, but Waller ignored him. Deadshot finds Rick Flag at the Lincoln Memorial, where Flag is holding Cray at gunpoint. He stops Rick Flag by killing the senator himself, following his orders to the letter. Then he whispers to himself "Ed. I killed the old man this time. Did just like ma told me." The police arrive and Flag tries to take Deadshot away. Deadshot, with tears streaming down his face, says that he will take care of the police and threatens to shoot Flag if he does not run. There is a shootout on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, and Deadshot is hit with many bullets, but he manages to survive. In the hospital later, Waller is furious that Deadshot killed Cray, and Deadshot replies that her orders should have been more clear. Waller later has stress hallucinations about sending Deadshot on a mission in his unstable condition.

The Phoenix Gambit

Lawton's uniform was stolen by an airport employee, who used it to commit many crimes and murders. Lawton was forced to kill the man with a bullet to the head. The shooting of his own "image" affected him greatly. For a while, he did not even fix the hole in his own uniform. While the suit had been lost, Lawton had threatened to kill his teammate Captain Boomerang, who he felt had been responsible due to drinking and missing their plane.

Some time before his last mission for the Suicide Squad, Count Vertigo asked him if he would kill him if asked. Deadshot agreed to consider it and reminded Vertigo with some regularity. After their final mission on Diabloverde, the two went off to a secluded area for the decision. Vertigo declined, a decision Deadshot accepted with no argument.

Suicidal Tendencies

Kobra pays Deadshot one million dollars to assassinate Deathstroke and Peacemaker. Deadshot attacks them in Switzerland, but they defeat him and explain that he was Kobra's next target. Peacemaker hires Deadshot for the price of one million and one dollars. He works with them and takes revenge by shooting Kobra, but Kobra survives and Deadshot is captured by Gennifer Deveraux. Kobra tries to brainwash Deadshot, and uses him as bait to capture Deathstroke and Peacemaker. Deadshot breaks free and distracts Kobra while the others escape. He kills Gennifer and they are able to destroy Kobra's base with help from Doctor Light and Katana. Deathstroke is later framed for treason, and Sarge Steel sends Bronze Tiger and Deadshot to bring him in. Deadshot is able to capture Deathstroke by shooting several rounds into his chest while he is distracted by Bronze Tiger. He is later hired again to help Deathstroke find nuclear weapons stockpiled by Crimelord. Deadshot visits Vatican City to assassinate the Pope, but Wonder Woman stops him and takes him into custody.

Amanda Waller puts a new Suicide Squad together, to destroy the Silicon Dragons in Hawaii. Deadshot is forced to fight Knockout when he recruits her. They travel to the underwater base of the cartel with Superboy. He battles Stinger, who is supposed to be his equal, but Knockout pulls him away before they can test who is better. Captain Boomerang is revealed to be working for Lady Dragon, so Deadshot tries to kill him. Deadshot shoots Captain Boomerang in both his hands while he is holding onto a ledge. Superboy rescues Boomerang, but Deadshot still crippled his ability to throw. They blow up the facility and escape.

Killer Elite

The demon Neron releases every villain in Belle Reve, and takes many including Deadshot to Hell. Deadshot is one of the villains to accept Neron's offer, making a literal deal with the devil. He begins working with the assassins Bolt, Chiller, Deadline, and Merlyn as a group called the Killer Elite. They are promised the power to kill their enemies if they spread mayhem for Neron. Each member is told to commit their dream assassination, and Deadshot chooses to blow up a classroom of kindergarten students. He views this as a poetic statement to demonstrate the meaninglessness of life. Obsidian blocks the bullets with his body, and pulls Deadshot into his shadow realm. Obsidian tries to tell Deadshot that they are not so different, and their inner pain comes from the same place. Deadshot continues lashing out violently, so Obsidian knocks him out. The Killer Elite are later seen trying to eliminate the Body Doubles, who they view as competition. Deadshot betrays his team and pretends to get knocked out because he is secretly involved with Carmen Leno.

The CIA recruits a new Suicide Squad to hunt down Hawk and Dove, under the authority of Loren Freitag. Deadshot has a stand-off with Hawk's father Colonel Martens, and Dove takes Deadshot down from behind. He gets into a sniper duel with Vigilante, and defeats her, but surrenders himself rather than murder a government agent.

Brainwave invites Deadshot to become a member of the new Secret Society of Super-Villains. This is revealed to be a sting operation by the JLA, and every member is arrested. Deadshot is seen imprisoned in Belle Reve when the JLA deal with a super-villain riot. Two-Face hires Deadshot to kill Batman, and Deadshot shoots Batman in the back so he falls off a building. Batman hunts Deadshot down, and Deadshot suggests they duel like the old west. Batman is quicker on the draw and he breaks Deadshot's jaw with a batarang.

Deadshot returns to Gotham when he is hired to kill the mob boss Lew Moxon. Moxon hires Zeiss as his bodyguard. Batman hunts Deadshot down, but Deadshot shoots the batline and escapes. Moxon is under heavy guard, so Deadshot manipulates Batman to get Moxon into the open. He slaps Moxon's daughter Mallory to the ground, and shoots Moxon in the spine. Moxon is paralyzed from the waist down. Batman arrives and Deadshot is forced to escape before he can finish the kill. He is next seen in the audience at a superhero fight organized by Roulette.

The Joker is told he is dying, so he infects an army of super-villains with Joker Venom including Deadshot. The Killer Elite are sent to attack Iron Heights. Deadline, Deadshot, and Merlyn kill a large number of guards until they are driven back by Gregory Wolfe. Deadshot uses the venom to infect his old teammate Captain Boomerang. The Flash takes Deadshot down with a punch to the face. This is the Killer Elite's last mission.

General Rock's Suicide Squad

Deadshot is recruited by General Rock to become a member of his new Suicide Squad, which is developed in the aftermath of Our Worlds at War. There are several other new members that he works closely with such as Blackstarr, Havana, Killer Frost, Major Disaster, Modem, and Reactron. They operate under the authority of President Luthor. This team was ultimately unsuccessful and they were disbanded.

War Games

The Penguin hires Deadshot as a bodyguard when every gang leader in Gotham is invited to a summit. This turns into a shootout, and Deadshot kills several men including Junior Galante while Penguin escapes. They meet Orpheus, and Deadshot catches up with his old friend Onyx. Hush and Prometheus subdue Deadshot when they assault the Penguin. Tarantula disarms Deadshot and defeats him in physical combat when she invades the Iceberg Lounge.

Deadshot was part of a community of assassins who congregate on the Injustice Gang satellite. He is the one who tells this group that Doctor Light was mind-wiped, while they are hanging out and playing Risk. Deadshot, Merlyn, and Monocle are attacked by the Justice League. Green Lantern traps Deadshot in an energy construct, and Deadshot shoots a ricochet bullet that slices his own neck. This is a ruse to make him drop the construct, and Deadshot blinds the invulnerable hero by shooting him in the face. Despite this clever trick, he is captured by Superman. These villains are prosecuted by Kate Spencer in court, but they avoid prison thanks to Deadshot's government connections.

Urban Renewal

Deadshot discovered he had a daughter, Zoe, who was being raised in a crime-filled area of Star City by her mother, Michelle Torres. Lawton decided to do right by this daughter and embarked on a lethal war on the local gangs that plague the area. The series ends with Deadshot faking his death, having realized a normal life is not for him, but having mostly cleared up the area and having convinced Green Arrow to patrol it more regularly.

Secret Six

The Secret Six were banded together by a mysterious, shrouded character named Mockingbird who offered a major reward for committing to the team and a severe punishment for not accepting membership. Deadshot was offered the reward of ruling North America; his punishment was to be the destruction of the neighborhood of his daughter and her mother. At the end of the mini-series, a stalemate was reached and Deadshot's status remains roughly unchanged from the end of his second mini-series. He remains a part of The Secret Six and was shown having reached a grudging friendship with another member, Catman. His share of the payment for the Six's mercenary work is stated to be sent in its entirety to his daughter and her mother. After the Six disbanded, Knockout commented in passing that he had returned to the Suicide Squad.

Salvation Run

Deadshot and the Suicide Squad were assigned in rounding up supervillains for removal from Earth to a supposedly peaceful planet known as Cygnus 4019 as part of Project Salvation. The group has encountered Pied Piper and Trickster several times, and each time failed to capture them. Deadshot made a solo effort to capture them, but the pair again eluded him. Much later, Deadshot traced and attacks Piper and Trickster on a train outside of the Rocky Mountains. Given that the supervillains are aware of Project Salvation Deadshot apparently kills The Trickster leaving Pied Piper on his own. In Salvation Run #2 Deadshot and along with Bane were tricked and sent off to the prison planet along with the last batch of criminals. Before being sent to Salvation, Rick Flag Jr. stated to him as the Boom Tube closed that he ca not have people like him on Earth. Deadshot vowed that if he ever returned to Earth, he would take his revenge on Rick. After helping fight off the Parademon invasion he managed to escape with the surviving villains in the teleporter.

Unhinged

The Secret Six are later reunited with a new lineup including Bane, Catman, Jeanette, Rag Doll, and Scandal. Their first mission is trying to recover a "Get Out of Hell Free" card forged by the demon Neron, which is held by the vigilante Tarantula. This puts them into conflict with the mysterious villain Junior, who sends an army of super-villains to kill them. Tarantula sacrifices herself to kill Junior.

Fun Facts

Floyd Lawton is known to have been friends with William Heller growing up.

Deadshot is lactose intolerant.

Deadshot's wrist-guns are inspired by the real life "Sleeve Guns" manufactured during WWII by the British Army's Station IX.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Finding Us 12/?

Hey guys I’m a bit late with this chapter, but better late than never right? I hope you all enjoy it. 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | AO3 Link

Tim didn’t want to admit it, but progress was finally being made on the Alkali case, progress that felt like it was being done by everyone but him. Which was good. But it wasn’t his progress, and that nagged him a bit. His fingers stilled over the keyboard in the cave and he sighed. Eyes glancing at the time, 3 A.M. and too late for this kind of thinking.

He should be happy. Jason had managed to squeeze his way into the Alkali’s ranks and was pretty sure he’d be able to dig up evidence sooner rather than later. Which was what Tim wanted. He just wished he’d been more help. Somewhere. Somehow. Helping on this was supposed to settle his place with everyone. Fill him into the slots quickly being taken over by everyone else.

If he couldn’t do this, then did Batman really need him? Did Bruce?

He shoved himself away from the computer and stood. It was dumb to think that way. Of course he was needed, and wanted. He’d just been up too late. Or early. Or whatever. What he needed was a nap. Or something to eat. Not in that order.

He made his way upstairs and paused at the quiet resting over the building sure it was quiet since most of the occupants were asleep (or still patrolling in Bruce’s case) but it wasn’t just the too late hours of the night it was quiet lately. With Jason gone undercover and Dick settled into the penthouse it was quieter than he’d been used to. Quieter than the chaos he’d so recently been bemoaning.

Cass kept to herself, and Damian- Damian did too. The most he heard from his little brother was Titus’s claws clicking against the floors or Alfred’s meows. Sometimes he heard Damian’s voice talking back to them, describing a walk or admonishing Alfred for not being where he should. Tim had let the strange apology at the mall settle at the back of his mind as something he’d get to later. After the Alkali’s. After he figured out the source of the strange letters he kept getting. After a million other things.

He found the kitchen empty and rifled through the fridge for sandwich materials. Bless Alfred for always having sliced ham and cheese stocked. He pulled them out thought about lettuce or tomato and decided he didn’t have the energy. On bread he layered ham, cheese, ham, and cheese again, grinned at it and stuck the last slice of bread on top. He took a huge bite, bread sticking to the roof of his mouth as he tried to chew and grinned.

He left the rest of the sandwich on the counter while he put everything else away and poured a glass of water. When he turned back around, he saw Jason standing there, sandwich poised for a bite. He was still dressed in his Red Hood uniform, sans helmet.

Tim swore, heart racing, and pointed at Jason, “Put down my food. Now.”

Jason lowered the sandwich and Tim snatched it from him, “Come on, man. Did you not see that I was already eating it?” he said, clutching it protectively.

“Sorry.” Jason shrugged, “It’s been a long night and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well make yourself one.” Tim said, and sighed, “It’s like no one in this family knows boundaries.”

Jason grinned at him, “Aww come on, Timmers, we do. You’re just not taking into account the fact that your wonderful big brother has spent the last eight or so hours being bored out of his mind on guard duty.”

Tim sat down at the island and eyed him, “And did you find out anything while being oh-so-bored?” he asked before taking another bite of his food, still irritated by the almost theft. Honestly, Jason had to have been sleep deprived on top of hungry to not notice the gaping hole in the sandwich. Or he just didn’t care. Tim wasn’t sure which was worse.

His brother hummed, pulling out supplies to match Tim’s, plus the lettuce and tomato. He lined them up on the counter, counted out four slices of bread and spun the package closed.

“The first half was nothing but talk about the last Knights game. You get to really understand a man when you hear his Knights opinions for half the night.” Jason pulled a knife from the block, and settled the tomato on a cutting board before slicing it, “This guy? He’s got terrible opinions. He thinks they should have kept old George Brant from last year.” Jason shook his head and pulled a few leaves off the head of lettuce.

“What’s wrong with that?” Tim asked.

Jason turned gave him a look that said ‘you know what’s wrong with it’ before he handed Tim two slices of the tomato and the leaves, “Here, your food was looking pretty monotone.”

“It had cheese.” Tim said, taking them.

“Pepperjack? No, your sandwich was 100% monotone.” Jason told him, turning back around.

Tim remade the rest of his sandwich while Jason built his. He had to admit the additions made it better. He probably should have taken the time to add them himself, but his brain was already playing with the idea of sleep, right here on this counter instead of his bed. It had been twenty four hours since he’d slept? Maybe? He’d been running a search of ex-Wayne Enterprises employees on a hunch about his stalker. There were a million reasons to stalk a Wayne kid, but fewer to be so threatening. Tim had let the computer do its check, then he’d wanted to go through the files one by one, it had been a long day- or night, or whatever.

“Anyway, not only does he think they should have kept Brant, but he also thinks they should have signed Felton .” Jason turned to glance at him again, “You want mustard or mayo?”

Tim shook his head and frowned, “That’s fascinating and all but, what other than bad sports opinions did you hear?”

Jason waved his question away, restocking the fridge. “I’ll get to that, gimme a sec.”

He pulled a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge and carried it, plus his two sandwiches to sit across from Tim. One sandwich was dropped on Tim’s plate, landing half on and half off the one Tim was almost finished with.

Jason took a bite of his own seconds before Tim asked, “What’s this for?”

“It’s a ‘pology.” Jason said around his mouthful, then swallowed, “For almost eating your first one. Plus I have a feeling you skipped a meal or two before this.”

Tim motioned towards his sandwich, “I got food.”

“And you needed more.” Jason told him, before taking a swig of his water.

Tim scrunched his nose, “Ugh, I can’t believe you drink that stuff.”

“And I can’t believe you don’t Mr. Fancypants.” Jason pointed the bottle at him, “It’s got the perfect amount of fizz.”

“Whatever. What about the case?” Tim asked, digging the last bits of his previous sandwich from under the new one.

Asked for or not, Tim was totally going to eat the second sandwich. There was little better in the world than someone fixing your food for you. He briefly thought of splitting it in half and handing Jason a piece, but his stomach was greedy for food. Jason had been right, he’d skipped a meal or three. He had the last bite of his first in his mouth while picking up the second.

“It looks like they’re going to be bringing in a shipment tomorrow night. And,” Jason paused to tear off a piece of his sandwich and toss it in his mouth. Tim was tempted to step on his foot in retaliation, “Frank’s going to be overseeing it.”

“Frank Alkali?” Tim asked, “Jason that’s, this is big. Why didn’t you start with this?” He pushed his stool back to stand, “I’ve gotta tell B.”

Jason held out a hand, “Sit back down, Timmy. I told Bruce before I came in for food. We’re gonna plan something for tomorrow, but after food and sleep. Alfred’s orders.”

Tim fell back onto the stool, “Okay. Good. That’s, this is good. Frank doesn’t have a lot of hold in the company, but he’s a part of it, a weak link. If we can get some dirt on him--”

“The whole house will start to fall.” Jason nodded, “I’m not on duty tomorrow night, too new for it, so I can help with a reconnaissance mission. And cover your back if anything happens.”

“I’m going?” Tim asked.

Jason grinned, “Of course, who else knows these guys in and out?”

Tim was excited. This was a good break. They could gather more information, learn what was going to be happening when, and maybe where the majority of the drugs were going to be stored once the shipment was moved. His exhaustion was giving way to his brain cranking out a hundred different ways to track them and listen in, but Jason had said they weren’t going to move forward until tomorrow. Which was fine, he could always get started a little early.

“Nuh uh.” Jason said, pointing at him, “None of that planning to stay up later stuff.”

Tim blinked at him, “How’d you know?”

“I can see your gears turning with all the new fun info.” Jason said, “You’re going to finish your food and I’m walking you to your room. Alfred wanted everyone to get a solid eight hours, and you’re no exception. If you want to help tomorrow you need rest.” he sighed, “Man I sound like Dick or Alfred. Just, I dunno get some sleep, please? I don’t want you passing out at a crucial moment, and Cass says you didn’t go to bed last night.”

“The traitor.” Tim said, “She promised she wouldn’t tell in exchange for ice cream.”

Jason grinned, “You’ve got to do better than that with Cass, we both know that.”

“Fine. I’ll sleep, but only because Alfred said so.”

“That’s the only reason anyone needs.”

He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but the moment Tim’s head hit his pillow he was out. He’d set an alarm for 9. Someone, most likely Alfred, had turned it off and let him sleep in. He woke blinking to what was practically midday sun and the realization that he’d been out longer than he’d wished.

A text from Bruce told him they’d go over plans after he returned from a meeting. Tim was instructed to relax and rest up. Apparently his appointments for the day had been cancelled already. Stupid alarm and sleeping and everything else. He groaned and rolled over to stare up at his ceiling.

He could try to sleep more. Only, that felt like a waste of time. Sneaking down to the cave to pour over files would only get him caught and hauled back upstairs. He could work out. Or do some work on his computer. Nothing really sounded interesting, nothing except real work.

He didn’t have long to worry about how he’d spend his day. Cass found him wandering towards the kitchen and coffee, and glued herself to his side for the few hours between waking and Bruce getting back. She dragged him outside to play with Titus, then back inside to paint her nails and watch a Chopped marathon. Tim found himself thoroughly distracted by taking turns judging the competitors for deciding to make another bread pudding and betting against Cass on who’d be chopped and when.

He lost almost every guess and had to let Cass paint his nails. She put a different color on each one, red, blue, green, purple, and yellow, then added glitter on top and did the same to his other hand.

“Perfect.” she told him, finishing, “Do not move or you will ruin them.”

“I wouldn’t dare mess up your masterpiece.” Tim told her.

“If you do, I’ll paint your face.” She said, waving a brush, still dotted with glitter at him.

He laughed, “You’ve been spending too much time with Steph.”

Cass wiggled her eyebrows at him and smiled before sitting back against the couch to keep enjoying their marathon.

Tim didn’t get antsy again until Bruce had arrived back and he had to wait through his dad settling in, then dinner. Finally they met down in the cave. Everyone was there. Cassandra, Stephanie, Dick, Damian, and Jason. And there was Bruce seated at the computer.

“Jason’s picked up a lead on a shipment that’s coming in tonight.” Bruce opened, “Beyond he and Tim running a stakeout, I want to night to be as normal as possible. We don’t want to let on that we known anything.”

“What about you?” Tim asked, “Are you not going to be there?”

Bruce shook his head, “No. Oracle’s heard buzz about Scarface running a job tonight, something big with explosions. I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Damian asked.

“I need you, Dick, Cassandra, and Stephanie covering your usual patrols. I should be able to handle this on my own.” he looked at each of them, “It’s going to be a busy night, so I want everyone on their toes. You get a call for help, go, you hear nothing stay on track.”

Damian frowned, but didn’t argue further. With that Bruce got to laying out a more detailed plan for the night, with Jason chiming in on where he and Tim would be and what they’d be doing. It looked like they’d be together, keeping an eye on and recording everything that went down. They were to plant trackers on the shipment and, if they had the chance, follow it to its destination. And with that, all that was really left to do was get ready.

[hysterialevi]

Lotus pt. 9 (Batjokes)

Author’s note: I wrote this chapter on a different computer, so forgive me if there are any typos as I’m not entirely used to the keyboard just yet. Hope you guys enjoy this part, and as always, thanks so much for being an amazing audience. I really appreciate the support. :)

From Waller’s POV

GCPD, COMMISSIONER’S OFFICE

“Any updates on Wayne or your agents?” Gordon asked, taking a sip of coffee. The man was finally back in his usual uniform, and the commissioner’s badge shone ever so brightly on the fabric of his coat as the steam from his mug fogged his glasses.

“They found Avesta,” I replied grimly, “but she’s been severely injured -- blinded by Wayne, apparently. As for the man himself, two of my agents are bringing him back for interrogation as we speak. I believe they just arrived, in fact.”

“Good. That bastard needs to answer for what he’s done.” the Commissioner scoffed. “Heh, bet he doesn’t feel so clever now. That’s the problem with most of these freaks. They’re too arrogant -- makes it inevitable for them to screw up eventually. Batman told me that when Riddler first attacked the Virago. I guess he was right.”

The urge to reveal the truth nearly took control of me again, and I felt terrible keeping such a secret from Gordon, but I held back and carried on the conversation, furrowing my brow in thought. 

“Perhaps, but I can’t shake the feeling that this could all be a trap. Wayne practically invited us to capture him with that video, and Riddler’s water tower isn’t exactly a secret location anymore. Why would he make such a blatant move in broad daylight? Especially with the Agency and police on his tail? The only logical explanation is that he wanted us to bring him here. Either that, or he’s really just that stupid.”

Gordon tugged at his collar, not quite used to the nicotine patch yet. “Sadly, I doubt it. I’ve done research on Wayne in the past, and trust me -- the man’s much smarter than he looks.”

A third, strangely familiar voice joined in. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Curious to see who had walked in, I had to look twice when I found Agent Harrison standing next to Bruce’s old butler, Alfred, acting as if everything was perfectly normal. I gaped at him for a moment, thrown off-guard by the sudden appearance.

“...Alfred Pennyworth?” I said, glancing at Harrison for answers.

“He showed up at the water tower during our mission,” Harrison quickly replied. “Saved Blake’s life too, in fact. He’s the only reason we managed to capture Lazarus.”

I shook hands with the butler, beaming at him. “Then I owe you my thanks. Speaking of Blake, where is he?”

The agent gestured outside. “He’s taking Bruce to the interrogation room right now.”

“Great. Then I’ll head there immediately. Gordon, I’m gonna need your help with this one. I get the feeling Wayne isn’t going to give in so easily, and I’d like to have company in case the man snaps.”

Alfred stopped me. “Err -- actually, if you don’t mind, Director, I’d like to have a word with you first. Alone.”

I halted in my tracks, eager to hear what the butler had to say. “...Very well. I can spare a few minutes. Gordon, Harrison -- give us a moment, would you?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Harrison said, promptly heading out the exit as Gordon grabbed his mug and followed him. Before shutting the door, the Commissioner turned around to say one last thing.

“I’ll meet you at the interrogation room, Waller. Just lemme know when you’re ready.”

I gave him a firm nod. “Will do.”

Taking his leave, Gordon disappeared from sight while Alfred set his hunting rifle down -- as one does -- and looked at me, clearly heartbroken over what was happening. I decided to broach the subject in a more delicate manner, softening my tone.

“Forgive me for being blunt, Mr. Pennyworth, but if I recall correctly -- didn’t you leave Gotham?”

Alfred placed his hands behind his back, straightening his posture. “I did, yes.”

“What brought you back?”

The butler took a second to answer. “Well, Bruce, mainly. But also Tiffany.”

I was a bit surprised at the response. “Tiffany? You mean Agent Fox?”

“Yes, she contacted me whilst I was away, you see. Kept me updated on everything that was occurring in Gotham, including Bruce’s battle with Lotus. She informed me of every single step: Bruce’s infection, his death...” Alfred’s voice faltered slightly on that word, “and now, his resurrection. At first, I intended to stay far away from this city, but after hearing about all the heinous things Bruce has done...”

He took a calming breath, subtly clenching his fist. “...I just couldn’t ignore it. As much as it pains me to be back, Bruce is my son, Director. And I’m not a coward -- at least, I don’t want to be. Not anymore. It’s my job, as a father and a friend, to stop Bruce’s reign of terror. If you’ll allow me to help, I would gladly lend a hand.”

“I appreciate the assistance,” I told him, “but you don’t have to do this. I imagine it’s hard enough to watch Bruce lose his mind. I won’t force you to fight your own family as well.”

Alfred persisted. “No one’s forcing anybody. Consider accepting my help as repayment for saving your agent’s life.”

“About that,” I pointed out, “how did you find my agents?”

He walked me through the process like it was nothing. “To be frank, I was actually searching for Bruce originally. I pinpointed his location at the water tower using the Batcomputer, and once I heard that one of your agents had gone missing -- I put two and two together. Something was clearly wrong, so I jumped in to help.”

I chuckled. “I can certainly see where Bruce gets his skills from. I kind of wish he had less. Well...all right. If you’re sure about it, both the Agency and the GCPD would happily welcome your aid.”

“I am.”

I flashed a smile. “Then it’s settled. If we ever have a problem we need solving that requires your expertise, you’ll be the first one to know.”

Alfred returned the smile. “Thank you, Director. The last thing I want for Bruce is to be locked away in a padded cell, but I can’t bear to watch anymore people get hurt, or see Bruce betray his code.”

“...You heard what he said at the address?” I asked.

“About killing Batman? I did.” Alfred’s head drooped in sorrow, staring at the floor. “...I won’t lie, Director. This war against ‘Lazarus’ is going to be a punishing one, indeed. Much like yourself, Bruce is a powerful ally, and an even more dangerous enemy. If we want to avoid anymore death, we’ll have to finish this as quickly as possible.”

Wandering over to the door, I opened it and gestured for Alfred to follow, taking him to Bruce. “Then let’s head down and speak to Lazarus himself. I imagine he has a thing or two to say.”

From Bruce’s POV

Fluttering my eyes open, I found myself sitting in what appeared to be an Agency vehicle, and I could feel handcuffs scraping at my wrists. The car was currently stopped in front of GCPD, and leading up all the way to the front door, I saw police officers patrolling the area around it, ready to detain me in case I tried to bolt. Little did they know, the only reason they managed to capture me in the first place...was because I let them.

Disturbing the silence, an agent suddenly yanked the car’s door open and ordered me to get out, their tone rough with rage. It was Agent Blake. I smirked at him, calmly stepping out of the vehicle.

“Such a gentleman.”

Blake’s expression flattened with annoyance as he firmly held onto my arm, guiding me to the police station. 

“And here I was hoping you’d invoke your right to silence.”

“No,” I said dramatically, “...I’ve been silent for far too long.”

Shoving me up the short staircase that led into the precinct, Blake dragged me through the double-doors and practically hurled me inside, grabbing the attention of all the other police officers as I was taken to the interrogation room.

All throughout the corridor, cops and agents alike both glared at me with despair in their eyes, almost as if asking me “why.” Some of them even refused to look at me, and as I was paraded through the halls, I could feel their intense gazes nailing onto my back. I glanced at Blake, whispering something in his ear.

“Well done, Blake. You’ve captured the most wanted man in Gotham on the very same day he earned that title. You must be proud.”

He grimaced. “This has nothing to do with pride, Lazarus. I’m just making sure you get the justice you deserve.”

I chuckled at that, afterwards letting out a disappointed sigh. 

“Oh...you remind me of myself, not too long ago. A little boy who was naive enough to believe the world would reward him for his good deeds. Instead though, all he got in return was betrayal.”

Blake said nothing in return, and so I continued. 

“It’s remarkable, how fast people can change, isn’t it...? Just yesterday, your beautiful Avesta was able to see all the light in the world, no matter how much the shadows threatened to consume it. Now though...she sees nothing but shadows. And her last memory of the world will forever be me, holding a knife up to her face as she begs for mercy. Tell me, how does that make you feel, Blake?”

“Just shut up!” He demanded in a hushed tone. “You’re lucky the Director wanted you alive. Otherwise, you'd be in a body bag by now.”

I gave him a warning look, refraining myself from smiling. “Careful, Blake. That fire inside you...it’s the same one I carry. Fan it too much, and you might hurt yourself.”

He shook his head. “You and I are nothing alike.”

“No?” I questioned. “Whether a flame is red or blue, it still burns, doesn’t it? I keep telling you people, that’s the universe playing with us. It manipulates you into thinking that just because you act with the law, it means everything you do is for the greater good. Why don’t you keep that in mind, the next time you kill a man who fights for the same reason. You’d be surprised how much different types of people have in common.”

INTERROGATION ROOM

Waiting in the dimly lit room, I remained handcuffed in a metal chair as distant footsteps approached from down the hall, heading in my direction. This was the same room where Montoya was interrogated after killing Falcone a year ago, and I couldn’t deny that my heart ached slightly at the thought of Harvey.

Mayor Dent was just another prime example of me giving everything to this city, and then having it thrown back in my face as a reward. I supported his campaign to reshape Gotham for the better, fought against corrupt pigs like Hill, and even helped him with his personal life, only to watch my friend lose his mind and end up in Arkham Asylum. 

I guessed the same thing was happening to me now. Except this time, I wouldn’t rot away in some dark cell. Either Gotham would burn to the ground by my hand, or I would burn with it.

Slamming the doors open, Waller suddenly marched into the room alongside Gordon while some other agents gathered behind a window on the wall, observing the interrogation. Among them, I spotted Agents Blake, Harrison, and--

...No, I thought to myself. It was impossible. Was that...was that Alfred? What was that traitor doing here? When did he even return? 

Wait a minute. During my fight with Blake, I remembered someone shooting me...but the bullet didn’t come from an Agency pistol, did it? No, it must’ve been from a rifle. 

A pang of realization hit me. 

Alfred was the one who shot me, wasn’t he? Not only did that bastard abandon me, he had come back to finish the job. Well, the old man certainly had guts -- I’d give him that -- but he was going to regret ever setting foot in Gotham again. I remembered every crime committed against me, and I certainly hadn’t forgotten his. Batman may have been dead, but that didn’t mean justice was.

Pretending not to see Alfred for the moment, I focused my attention on Waller and Gordon, giving them a lazy grin as I relaxed in the chair.

“So, a couple hundred deaths is all it took to get you two working together, huh? About damn time. What’s the mustache doing here?”

“He’s been reinstated,” Waller said sternly, crossing her arms. “In other words, We’re no longer fighting by ourselves.”

I smirked. “Good to know. I like a bit of variety when it comes to my targets. You get bored of going after the same kinds of people. That’s why Batman will always be my most memorable kill.”

The color in Gordon’s face drained a little at that, and I could’ve sworn I saw him gulp.

“I know it’s difficult to process,” I said somberly. “Batman was actually a close friend of mine too, you know? I used to look up to the vigilante, in fact. Did everything I could to become like him, growing up. But it was never enough. The crime in Gotham was relentless, and Batman looked at it all wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” Gordon barked, sounding defensive.

A more vengeful mood took hold of me, and I glared at the Commissioner.

“Look around you, Gordon. There are no such things as heroes or villains in this city. There is no good or evil. Gotham...is the evil, and I’m doing the rest of the world a favor by wiping it off the goddamn map!”

“Enough!” Waller pounded her fist on the table, causing Gordon to back off a bit. “You mentioned you had bombs hidden all over the city earlier. Where are they? Where are you keeping them?”

A light chuckle escaped me. “Oh, but that defeats the whole point of the search, Director. You can’t just expect the world to hand you things for free. Hell, it hardly hands you anything even when you pay.”

Gordon scoffed. “As if a billionaire like you would know what it means to pay.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about money, Commissioner, but nice to see you’re still involved in the interrogation. For a moment there, I thought you were actually letting Waller take the wheel. Now wouldn’t that be a twist? But I suppose that wouldn’t be the only twist today, would it?”

Springing up from my chair, the sudden movement made Waller and Gordon jump as I lurked towards the window, staring straight through the glass and directly at Alfred with a deathly gaze.

“Isn’t that right...Alfred?” I snarled, almost sounding feral. “What, have you finally come back to fix your mistake?”

The butler gave me a melancholic look. “You are anything but a mistake, Bruce. You are my son.”

Taking a step backwards, I laughed at the statement.

“Your son? Pfft. I wasn’t aware that a father was supposed to abandon his child, but...you’re right, Al. You’re right. None of this is a mistake. All of this is meant to be...”

Stealthily slipping a Phalanx Key out of my back pocket, I positioned my finger over the button and spun around to face Waller, amused at her bewildered expression.

“I gave you the chance to leave Gotham without any bloodshed, Director, but you refused to take it. Now...you’ll pay the price. By tomorrow, this entire city will be under my control...and guess what? There’s shit you can do to stop it.”

Activating the key, an alarm instantly began to wail throughout the station as red lights flashed on the walls, alerting the officers of a security breach. Blake cursed from behind the window, obviously noticing what I had just done.

“Oh, shit!” 

Waller’s eyes practically bulged out their sockets.

“What is it?!” She yelled. “What just happened?”

“This was a trap!” Blake exclaimed. “He just unlocked Bane’s cell! He’s broken free!”

Listening closely through the door’s thick material, I could already hear Bane’s signature roar rumbling not too far away from me as the beast made a beeline for the interrogation room, ripping apart everything in his path. Panicked shrieks and agonized gurgles filled the corridors, and the havoc made my heart race with excitement.

“You know Bane’s favorite saying, Director,” I recited as the colossal man approached. “A man cannot win a war alone.”

Smashing the room’s doors down as if they were paper, Bane barged through the wall and sent debris flying everywhere, shattering the observation window with a sharp crack.

Gordon and Waller tried to put the monstrosity down on their own, but before they could even fire a shot, Bane had already flung them to the side like rag-dolls, hurling them against the walls just as he did to Batman.

“Perfect timing, Bane.” I praised him, remaining seated. He stomped over and tore my handcuffs apart with a single tug, setting me free. 

Stretching my arms and neck for a second, I reached down and snatched Gordon’s gun from his belt before sauntering towards the room’s exit with Bane, the two of us prowling outside to raise some hell as the alarms continued to blare.

“Let’s get to work.”

From John’s POV

GCPD

“What’s that noise?” Willy asked me, peering through the car’s windshield. I shushed him, observing the police station.

“It’s an alarm, you idiot! It means something’s gone wrong. ...Wait, you don’t think it could be because of Bruce, do you? What if he already escaped on his own? I wouldn’t be surprised. That guy’s always two steps ahead.”

“Uhh, I think he did, boss,” Frank suggested, pointing at a peculiar man who was hijacking a car. “Either that, or that guy looks identical to Bruce.”

Following Frank’s line of sight, I squinted my eyes and examined the escapee’s face, instantly recognizing his marred skin and sleek, black hair. It looked like Bane was in his company, and the two of them were working together, but he didn’t join Bruce in the car. Instead, Bane fled in his own direction -- probably to divert the cops -- and his partner started the vehicle.

“IT’S HIM!” I shouted ecstatically, taking hold of the steering wheel and gearshift. “Hold on, fellas! This is about to be one heck of a ride! AHAHA!”

Flooring my foot on the gas, I sent the car soaring as Bruce took off like a bat out of hell, leaving skid marks behind him while a number of policemen attempted to keep up with his speed. There was no way I’d be able to catch Bruce for myself at this rate, and the cops were only going to be a hinderance for both of us.

Reaching behind me, I grabbed my machine gun and shoved it into Willy’s hands, pointing at the police cars.

“Goddamn cops...shoot them, Willy! Get ‘em off of Bruce’s tail! I’ll focus on catching up to him!”

Nearly levitating off the road, I avidly chased after Bruce like a homing missile and gradually gained on him, trying my best to corner him somehow as Willy fired at the cops. To help out a bit, I occasionally rammed the side of the vehicle against theirs, causing them to swerve into streetlights and buildings as civilians threw themselves out of the way.

“This better be worth it!” I groaned. “That was a beautiful paint job!”

Speeding up a little, I sent the car blazing over the street’s surface and mentally targeted Bruce with crosshairs, sliding opening the sun roof in advance.

“Whoa--” Frank blurted out, “--what’re you doin’, boss?!”

“Doing your job for you,” I retorted, taking out my grapple gun. “But don’t worry about me, kids. I learned from the best!”

Continuing to race after Bruce, I kept him in my sights while Willy finished off the last of the police, clearing the road for me. There were explosions blowing up left and right around us, and it looked like something you’d see in a movie. Despite all the damage we were dealing to my car though, I couldn’t help but be exhilarated by the pandemonium. It was the perfect type of mayhem, and the commotion only motivated me further.

“...Almost there...” I mumbled through bared teeth. With the cops gone, it was just me and Bruce now, zooming through Gotham’s streets like a pair of madmen as the distance closed between us. Though, I guessed that’s exactly what we were. 

“...Almost gotcha...”

Driving as fast as I could, the outside view flashed into a blur while I bolted by, closing in on Bruce. Our bumpers were nearly touching at this point, and up ahead, I saw a secluded alleyway coming into view. This was the perfect spot to confront him. I aimed the grapple gun upwards.

“...NOW!”

Slamming down on the brakes, I came to a screeching halt and ejected myself through the top like Batman, landing right onto the top of Bruce’s car. 

For a moment, the man swerved in confusion and poked his head out the window before noticing me, causing him to try and shake me off. I managed to latch on even with all the erratic movement for quite a while, and when Bruce realized I wasn’t going away, he drifted into a complete stop, slingshotting me forwards.

Crashing to the ground like an injured pigeon, I fell with a clumsy “oof!” and squashed face-down into the pavement directly next to a dumpster, letting out a pained groan.

“...Eeuugghh...” I moaned, struggling to get up, “...who the hell taught you to drive...?”

After taking a second to catch my breath, I weakly rolled over and found an extremely pissed-off Bruce towering above me, his sharp eyes almost sizzling with anger.

“Hey,” I said defensively, “I tried my best, okay?”

The other man wasted no time in hauling me into the air by the neck, gripping furiously tight.

“Why are you following me?” He questioned austerely. 

“What d’you mean? Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best enemy, Bruce, and I’m the villain of your dreams! We were meant to be! You can’t keep arch-enemies like us apart...! It just...wouldn’t make any sense. After all, the caped vigilante needs someone to fight, even if you’ve declared him dead.”

“I didn’t declare Batman dead,” he corrected. “People like you murdered him!”

He rammed me into the ground, pinning me down with his own weight. “You infected me! You put this...poison inside me! Everything I’ve ever fought for, everyone I’ve ever loved -- it’s all lost because of you!”

I held up my hands protectively. 

“In my defense, I never meant for this to happen, Bruce. It’s just -- you hurt me real bad on the bridge with your betrayal, y’know. I only wanted you to feel my pain. I wanted to...to be loved by you. Harley putting a ding in your gas mask was never part of the plan! The last thing I wanted was to infect my best buddy, and I...I was heartbroken when they said you died, Bruce. Really.”

Bruce released his grip on my neck, throwing my head down. “I don’t care what you meant. I would’ve given you everything, John. Anything you wanted -- I would’ve done whatever it took to make you happy. But instead, you took my love and twisted it into something ugly and wrong...!”

I blinked away some tears, desperately looking up at him.

“...Ugly? Wrong? B-But I thought -- I thought I was your light outside of Arkham.”

Bruce froze at that statement, and for the first time in forever, a spark of warmth ignited within his dead stare. He stumbled over his words, completely thrown off-guard.

“...w-what? How do you...how do you know about...”

I gave him a genuine smile, my heart floating with contentment. “The music box, Bruce. I saw it. Read the inscription, listened to the melody...the whole shebang. I keep it in a very special place in my office now -- right next to your doll -- and I play the music all day long. It truly is...beautiful. It calms me down when things get too stressful, and it also gives me company when...when I get lonely.”

Bruce seemed puzzled. “...Lonely? Don’t you have Harley?”

My lips sank into a frown. “Well...yeah, but she doesn’t care about me the same way you do. She only cares if there’s something in it for her. You though...you stood up to the Director of the Agency herself when she tried to shoot me. No one’s ever stuck their neck out like that for me before. No one. It’s why I can’t let you go. It’s why...I love you, Bruce.”

He appeared entirely paralyzed at the confession and remained motionless, unsure of how to react. There was distress written all over his face, and for just a split-second, I saw the old Bruce come out as he gazed at me longingly, acting as if he were about to say he loved me in return. 

Did he still feel the same way about me as he did before Lotus came along? I mean, if the Riddler could remember his past after all those years, surely there had to be something of the old Bruce left in there, right? It had only been what, a few days? It would be impossible for a bond as strong as ours to just...vanish that quickly. I mindlessly held my breath, anxiously waiting for a response.

Before Bruce could utter a word however, police sirens cried in the distance and interrupted our talk, leading Bruce to shift back into Lazarus as he took one last look at me, preparing to flee.

“...Don’t follow me again,” he demanded, “or I will kill you the next time we meet.”

Bolting out of sight, Lazarus disappeared in the dark alleyways as I stayed on the pavement, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

What was that? Was Bruce about to say he loved me too? For a while there, it actually looked like he had gone back to his old self, and I could almost see the same, compassionate Bruce I met at Lucius’ funeral...up until the police showed up. 

I just wished we could’ve had more time to talk. These days, it felt like Bruce was always running away from me, and I couldn’t deny that I was annoyed by it.

He couldn’t just get a music box like that, and then pretend not to love me! The man had been dropping hints ever since we met that he wanted to take our relationship further, for god’s sake. Why was he avoiding me like the plague now? As much as I enjoyed Bruce’s complex nature, this isn’t how I wanted things to play out.

I guessed the best way to find Bruce now was to go after Bane. I didn’t know what the two of them had in common, and frankly, it was kind of insulting that they had a more stable friendship than we did. But if tracking down that beast meant getting to be around the love of my life, I was ready to do anything.

Death itself couldn’t keep Bruce away from me, and Waller certainly wasn’t going to succeed. That woman had screwed this city over for long enough. If anyone was going to take her down, it was going to be me.

Hurriedly pulling up to my side, Willy stepped out of the scraped car and called for me to get back in, his voice pumped with adrenaline.

“Boss! The cops are coming. We need to go!”

Slowly rising from the rough ground, I patted myself clean and sulked towards the vehicle, hanging my head low out of heartbreak. 

“Is everything okay, Mr. Johnny?” Willy checked. “Where’s Bruce?”

I glanced back at the police car Bruce used to escape and clenched my jaw, my nose crinkling in anger as my face heated up.

“That’s exactly what I’m about to find out...whether he likes it or not. He’s doing everything he can to break the stitch, but I’m not letting him go. Not after all we’ve been through. Not without a fight.”

[ambiengrey]

Loitering Ch 10

Let me tell you a Thing: summary.

<-previous

the burden of brotherhood

“It may be the wrong decision, but fuck it, it's mine.”

― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

Jason shut the door at his back and leaned against it, his hand lingering on the handle a few moments longer.

He felt drained, and defeated, after how long they’d spent talking, but saying nothing.

…

Jason hated to think coming had been a pointless endeavour, but…

Red Hood had more work to do, and, while things felt clearer, if more painful, Jason Todd’s life was more upside-down now than it ever had been before. Because despite all the talk, nothing had actually changed, had it?

Jason pressed his palms to his closed eyes and sunk to the floor.

The lights in the hallway had an orange glow to them that was making his head throb.

…

Or maybe that was the long day.

“…Shit,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“I’d reprimand your language, sir…” Alfred’s voice drifted through a sudden ring in Jason’s ears. He hadn’t even heard the butler approach. “But…I suppose you’re old enough now to know better.”

A breathy laugh passed his lips and Jason lowered his hands and raised his head, meeting Alfred’s weathered old gaze, “One would think, Al,” he mumbled.

Alfred held out a glove-less hand for him to take and Jason didn’t hesitate, adding his other to Alfred’s wrist as he pushed himself to his feet more than pulling up with the butler’s strength.

Alfred was by no means a weak man, Jason knew, but…

Not for the first time he was struck with the thought – what the hell was all of this, doing to him?

Alfred who had pretty much taken the place of – well, never that—stepped into the role—of a little eight year old boy’s parents – mom and dad both – at the drop of a—pair of bleeding bodies—hat?

No questions asked.

When Bruce told him of his intentions to wear a bat-styled suit and scale rooftops at night – what questions had the butler posed? What arguments had they had? How many, before Alfred had agreed to help Bruce, if he hadn’t from the first?

When Bruce planned to adopt Dickiebird – how many questions did Alfred have for him then?

When Jason himself had come along? When he had died?

Tim, when he’d wormed his way in?

Fuckit – every fucking moment since all this shit started—

“Al…” Jason began, wondering at how he’d never thought – had he ever? – to ask this, before—only, he found, even if he had thought to before, he couldn’t ask that. Not of Alfred. “How…” he dropped his gaze, squeezed Alfred’s old hand still between both his own, “Are you?”

“You’ve already asked, sir,” faint amusement coloured the butler’s tone, but it was a pale thing. “I dare say not much has changed in twenty-four hours,” he patted the back of Jason’s hand, and the younger man nodded, loosened his grip, allowing Alfred to slip his hand free.

Jason stuffed his own in his pockets.

“Has it, sir?” the old man prodded, tone discreet, and—

Jason could feel the heat returning to the backs of his eyes, blinked it away. He shook his head, not looking up. A beat passed, before he could say, “I’m sorry, Alfred, I just—”

“Indeed, sir,” the butler cut him off, not unkindly, briefly squeezing Jason’s shoulder. He said nothing more and Jason, liberated from any obligation to explain himself or divulge any of his conversation with Bruce, finally looked up to meet the old man’s gaze.

There was a deep, if quiet, understanding there.

Alfred nodded, thus, and turned down the hall. Jason followed just behind, letting himself be escorted to the front door as though Jason had presented the family’s most loyal member with a thorough, impressive argument completely justifying why he wasn’t about to stay, and spend the night at—

Home.

Where his father was sick. And dying.

The way a good son was expected—supposed—to do.

…

…

…

…

“Alfred—” Jason stopped, the silence hanging in the hallway an unexpectedly welcome medication for his and Bruce’s words from earlier. Weighted but not heavy, and filled, not with his pained shrieks or his real mother’s hitching sobs in his ears, but with nothingness, and release he’d been so filled to the brim with he’d hardly realized how far they’d walked until his eye caught sight of the door. “Can we—?” Dickie’s room at his back. “Could I…take a look?” he barely whispered, apprehensive at the prospect.

Alfred had stopped short at the request, and half-turned toward Jason, hands still clasped behind his back. The butler watched him, for a moment, and Jason couldn’t think of what he might have seen, before Alfred nodded once, “I suppose a small detour is…not to be sneezed at.”

The quirk at the corner of Jason’s mouth, and the raise of one eyebrow at the phrase did not escape the butler’s notice as Alfred crossed the hall toward the young lad’s old door and took hold of the handle. It hadn’t been locked since Jason was discovered alive and vengeful in a familiar alley one cloudy night.

While Master Tim had never, to Alfred’s knowledge, set a foot inside his predecessor’s former quarters, Tim’s successor had had no qualms or delusions of respect over it. Indeed, Alfred had caught the once youngest of his ward’s brood inside their lost Robin’s room on many occasions – rifling through a fifteen-year-old’s forgotten trinkets, possessions, obsessions—books.

He’d confessed, once, in a manner that sounded nothing like confessing, of course, that no one, save Alfred, ever looked for him in the formerly deceased Robin’s room and that was, sometimes, why he preferred it.

Why it intrigued him.

Alfred did not divulge that he only looked for the boy in this particular room because he’d discovered him there the first time by pure coincidence, and thus knew where to find him again – for Alfred knew just as well as Master Damian had, the fascination behind this particular bedroom, and the yearning feeling of being simultaneously lost and found it offered.

Alfred would be lying if he said he was not hoping, like Master Dick did, that they could place this once lost piece of their familial puzzle back into a spot where it fit perfectly, and while it was plain that it would take more than an entire afternoon and evening’s conversing to persuade Master Jason to stay, Alfred was, deviously, hopeful some physical evidence of the lamentable emptiness his absence had left in their lives – Bruce’s particularly – might come closer to bringing him home.

Alfred turned down the handle of his boy’s old bedroom, thus, and swung the door open with his back to it, watching Jason from the corner of his eye.

Apprehension lingered in the young man’s gaze, if not the firm set of his jaw; determined – precisely as he had been, at twelve years old. He hadn’t known what to expect then and, Alfred knew, Jason didn’t know what to expect now, either. The same impersonal guest room as years ago, with its thick curtains drawn, hiding the sun from nothing more than a bed and a desk with a chair, and an old, empty bookcase?

Jason only paused briefly at the threshold, a familiar heaviness leaning against his soul, weighing him down and pushing him forward in equal measure, before he strode into the room as if it still belonged to him—only to stop abruptly a handful of paces inside.

A strangled noise caught in his throat and Jason crossed his arms tight over his chest, eyes darting around – over the creased burgundy covers on his bed, the cream-coloured pillows at the head, dented as if someone had sat on them—

—his old guitar in the corner just on the other side—

—dark curtains pulled back to let the light in—

—the desk across from his bed, the bookcase against the adjacent wall—

—and he could see—

—the way he’d slide across the carpet in his chair from the desk to the bookcase and back—

“It’s—still,” he started, twisted in Alfred’s direction without taking his eyes off the room, “It’s still all the same,” it was a statement, not a question, and he sounded—startled—to his own ears. “Why?”

Alfred didn’t answer at once, was too quiet, and Jason spun, all the way around, to face him.

Alfred appeared more solemn than usual, his gaze on the floor and his silver brows knit together.

For the life of him, Jason couldn’t remember what Alfred had looked like before – before Jason had died. How much younger had he been? How much younger had he looked? How much deeper had the lines on his old face gotten as the years had slipped past?

How many more before—

—

Jason swallowed thickly.

“Master Bruce—” Alfred started, but stopped, uncertain. “Well. This was your room, sir,” he said at last, more composed. He looked up, “It will always be yours, sir, whether you choose to live in it, or not.”

Jason couldn’t keep Alfred’s gaze, the tightness in his throat only tightening more. He looked away – turned away again – scrubbing a hand through his hair, briefly tugging.

There was an old record player on a small table by the window seat – wide and filled with pillows Jason didn’t remember owning – all his records and CD’s haphazardly scattered on the floor around the table, books with their spines bent lying on the cushions—

“Then why does it look so—” he stepped forward, feeling incredibly out of place – more than he had on the porch, or in the foyer downstairs, or in Bruce’s room—

“Occupied…?” he breathed, eyes falling onto a stack of bound paper on the bed and his feet moving automatically closer.

He fingered the corner of the first page—

Beauty and the Beast.

“Whilst Master Bruce has an impressive collection of literature,” Alfred said, coming up beside him, his old eyes on Jason’s haphazardly constructed collection of fairy tales. “They are not quite suitable for a novice reader, as opposed to many of yours, and, Miss Cassandra does, admittedly, enjoy the atmosphere in your room, sir. I don’t quite have the heart to reprimand her for it,” Alfred added, almost conspiratorially, and the corner of Jason’s mouth quirked up before he could catch himself. “In any case,” Alfred shrugged, straightening, and Jason narrowed his eyes at the butler – he knew that look, “Miss Cassandra is eager to improve her reading skills, and, whilst your penmanship left something to be desired,” Alfred looked pointedly at the hand-made excuse for a book, “I directed her to your excellent collection of audio material to accompany it.”

Jason’s expression changed at once, mouth open in a stunned gape as he stared at the butler – and there it was, the barest shadow of amusement round the old man’s mouth that may as well have been a white-toothed grin on anyone else’s face.

“Alfred,” Jason said, just short of a groan, “You didn’t,” but he’d already looked back at the window seat and was striding around the double-bed towards it even as Alfred answered—

“Well, sir, I couldn’t very well deprive the girl of developing her reading abilities, now could I?”

Jason had found the old yellow walkman – something of Dick’s when he’d been a kid – still in the same condition as it had been the last time he’d seen it, little bats scribbled all over its yellow surface in permanent black marker and all. It sported a newer set of earphones than the ones Jason vaguely recalled, as he held one up to his ear and pressed “Play” on the device. It started and stopped, however, with a whirr, and Jason popped the cover open to easily slip out the cassette inside and turn it around, before, with some added chagrin this time, he pressed “Play” again—

There was the sound of a throat being cleared, and then—

“Peter Pan, written by J.M. Barrie; read to you by—uh—yeah, no, you don’t have to know—um. Okay. Ahem. ‘Chapter one: Peter Breaks Through... All children, except one, grow up—’” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle, and smile, glancing briefly at Alfred as he listened to his own voice—

“—One day when she was two years old she was playing in the garden—”

Jason’s gaze drifted over the books on the window seat, the records and CD’s at his feet, a little stack of more cassettes he hadn’t even noticed before—

He’d forgotten about this. He’d forgotten he used to sit on this seat with a book in his lap and the nightstand with his radio pulled closer so he could talk into the speaker while he read aloud—

“—I suppose she must have looked rather delightful—”

—putting on airs for the heck of it as he spoke, and bending his voice to pretend at playing one character or another—

“—‘Oh, why can't you remain like this for eve’—oh, come on—”

Jason choked on half a laugh, half a sudden shortness of breath as his young voice pitched unexpectedly high, dipped deep. His knees buckled without permission, teenage Jason’s throat-clearing cough falling away as the earphone dropped from between his numb fingers.

“Sir?” Alfred’s concerned expression filled Jason’s vision when he finally looked up, though he didn’t remember looking down, or sitting down, for that matter. He was on the edge of the window seat, however, with Alfred bent forward in front of him, one hand behind his back and the other on Jason’s shoulder.

“S’ry,” Jason mumbled, and ducked his head – the walkman lay at his feet, popped open to reveal the stopped cassette inside. He let out a breath in a huff, like he was pushing his soul off a high-rise. “I—I didn’t mean to—” what even? Faint? Blackout? He scrubbed at his face with both hands, combed his fingers back through his hair as Alfred’s hand lifted from his shoulder. The weight of it lingered a moment longer, though.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” Alfred said quietly, and Jason chanced another look at him. Really looked, this time. Alfred stood regal and proper, as he always had for as long as Jason had known him – hands at his back, shoulders set, chin raised even as he was looking down at Jason now – ‘at,’ though, never ‘on.’ “I understand how this is likely somewhat…overwhelming for you, sir.”

“Heh,” Jason tilted his head in agreement, looked away as he did. “No kidding…”

“I never do, sir,” Alfred said, and Jason chuckled properly, grinning up at the man.

Not for the first time, a coil of guilt spun around his insides squeezed tighter, and he swallowed, thickly. “Alfred…” he started, serious, and had to glance away again for a moment. He licked his lips. ‘Overwhelming’ could not begin to describe it.

The barrage of memories from the moment he’d set foot in the manor had been terrifying, but not for their presence so much as for their overpowering nature. He’d been expecting, when he could, finally, no longer postpone the confrontation, to see only the worst memories from his time in the manor. They were often at the back of his mind, vague and imprecise, a feeling more than an image, but they drove him, on top of all the wrong Bruce and his brood had done Jason since his death and resurrection.

He was overwhelmed. Been overwhelmed to find so many content memories – in the foyer, on the staircase, down hallways, in Bruce’s chair – so many…happy—safe—feelings he’d forgotten existed.

He’d waded through the strangeness, done what he’d come for, though – thought he’d been doing well, until—

—

—

—they were memories, but for all that they felt safe, and warm and real, they had not seemed it, not until Jason realised—

—it was him. It was truly him – his voice, a young kid, in his ear, and it was proof – that he’d existed in this house, had lived here, had things here that were his, and there was proof that they were his and he’d been here, and it wasn’t all someone else’s or some fantasy, some illusion, or his equally insane not-family humouring his own madness—

He’d been real. The little kid he was convinced was no longer in him—

He was here. In this abandoned bedroom. Among his things. His voice. His existence. Still hung in the air.

‘Overwhelming’ did not begin to describe it.

“Did I ever…” he trailed off, took a breath, “Did I ever apologize…?”

“Whatever for, sir?” Alfred asked, sounding almost genuinely curious and perplexed.

Jason’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, come on, Alfred,” he said, and looked up at the butler only to find him smiling ever so slightly. Jason swallowed.

Alfred sat carefully down on the edge of the bed opposite Jason, letting his smile linger as he replied, “I believe you did, sir,” a pause, “More than once, in fact.”

Jason breathed out through his nose, nodding to himself as he looked away again – let his gaze slide over the room at large—

Alfred watched the young man get to his feet almost laboriously, as if he was unsure of what to do next or where to go, his eyes on the room and his brows knit in thought. He made as if to move away from the window, before he stopped and stooped to pick up the fallen walkman and earphones, placing them back on the window seat where he’d found them. Only then did he wander off, sliding the tips of his fingers across a stack of CD’s, trailed the wall, all the while scanning the room with his blue-green eyes.

Alfred had gotten to his feet, was watching Jason take in the state of his surroundings.

There hung an old hoodie over the back of the boy’s chair Alfred had never had the heart – or the guts – to hang in the closet, which occupied a corner to the left of the door, the wall between covered from floor to ceiling with framed movie posters.

Miss Cassandra had left a pair of flip-flops under the desk, Alfred noticed, and, in a bundle on the seat of the chair was—

“This isn’t mine…” Jason mused, picking up the small jacket by the collar and holding it out to look at it.

“Indeed, sir,” Alfred stepped forward at once, hand held out for the garment and his old heart feeling suffocated in his chest, “I’ll take it, and, return it to its proper closet, sir—”

“Right,” Jason mumbled, handing it over without argument. Alfred folded it over one arm, his hand lingering on the smooth fabric too long. He stepped back, out of Jason’s space, and watched the boy turn to his bookcase, fingers sliding over the titles as if he was checking to see if everyone he remembered was still there. He paused, at one or two, slid them out to read the back, or flipped through the book until he came to a dog-eared page or a slip of paper pretending to be a bookmark, pausing on the page to read, what Alfred morbidly assumed, was the last sentence he’d stopped at.

“You’re welcome to any of them, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “They are yours, after all.”

“Yeah?” Jason replied, but the book he pulled out and stuffed inside his jacket was a small, black leather-bound notebook, not a novel. “I think, I,” he rubbed his hands on his jeans, poked at a stack of books on the desk, shifted a piece of paper, “I’ve had enough of the twilight-zone, Alfie. Um, can we—?” he half-gestured the door, and Alfred nodded.

Jason followed the butler outside, shutting the door at his back.

“That’s…” he started, before he could stop himself. He pointed, at the jacket Alfred had slung over one forearm. It was black and small, and had no business being in Jason’s old room since it wouldn’t have fit him the last time he was in there and was obviously, thus, not his from times gone by, “…Damian’s, isn’t it?” he asked, quietly, not intending to make Alfred any more uncomfortable than his tightly set jaw and firmly pressed lips suggested he was, but unable to resist the overwhelming wave of curiosity.

Alfred nodded curtly in affirmation, and Jason repeated the motion.

“…Kid hung out in my room, too?” he asked after a moment, genuinely confused.

“Hm. Master Damian…” Alfred paused, only almost imperceptibly, before saying very deliberately, “Enjoyed the quiet, I believe.”

“Oh, sure,” Jason mumbled, looking back at the door over his shoulder, feeling…odd. The kid hadn’t been that much of a menace the last time Jason had seen him, granted, but he’d never been singing Jason’s praises either, not even with their last meeting, so—hearing the kid had hung out in his once-bedroom for “the quiet” of it – or any reason for that matter – definitely constituted a feeling of oddness.

It only dawned on Jason then—

“Alfred, is…Damian’s room—?”

“Will always be Master Damian’s room, sir.”

Jason felt like a bobble-head, the way he just nodded again, but the coiled guilt round his gut was squeezing tighter again.

By the time he’d followed Alfred downstairs into the foyer he’d convinced himself that, for all that Bruce was one hell of a complicated father (-figure and actual father, both), he certainly didn’t quite deserve to die, without…well. It wasn’t up to Jason to tell him the truth, even if he’d had a hand in it, but—

The man deserved something. Not dying was sort of ideal, and, Jason fretted, taking one step in Alfred’s wake after another, there was only one option he could see towards achieving that end.

“I shall wrap up something for you from dinner, sir,” Alfred mused aloud, “For the road.”

He was all out of favours though, and he was half-planning on going back on his word besides, but—

“Thanks, Al, but…I’m fine, really.”

—maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if they did, and, moreover, he’d owe her a favour again, and, Jason thought, Talia would probably love being owed another favour—

“Just kind of want to go home…”

—it wasn’t often anymore Jason went to her with “I owe you’s—”

“Leaving without saying good-bye, Little Wing?”

Jason stopped, his thoughts trailing off abruptly at the intrusion of Dick’s voice at his back.

“I’m offended,” the older man added on, jokily, if tentative.

Jason spared a glance at Alfred at his side before looking back at the door handle in front of him. They’d gotten all the way to the front doors, and now this.

“Perhaps something for the road after all, sir,” Alfred said primly, turning on his heel even as Jason started on an ignored protest.

“…Yeah…sure,” he relented, mumbling at Alfred’s back as the old butler marched down the hallway past the stairs toward the kitchen. Only after he’d disappeared through the doorway did Jason stuff his hands in his jacket pockets, turning properly to face Dick.

The older man had plainly just come up from the cave, fresh from patrol, damp hair sticking to his forehead, and a few new bruises starting to colour his jawline to go with the split in his lip he was poking at with his tongue.

“Rough night?” Jason asked, for something to say, and Dick shrugged.

“No more than usual… You?”

“Same old…” Jason mumbled.

Dick nodded solemnly, hands in his jeans pockets.

Jason shifted his weight, feeling awkward in the heavy silence. He certainly couldn’t leave before Alfred came back with a plate and Dick wasn’t making any move to leave, so—

He felt stuck again, uncertainty of what to say—

“So…you and Bruce talked, then?” but of course Dickie had an idea.

Jason huffed, “Yeah. We had words.”

“You fought?” Dick asked, surprised – he’d told Bruce to be nice, but really that hadn’t been necessary. Bruce hadn’t wanted an argument with Jason, Dick knew that much—

“No,” Jason answered, meeting his eyes and quickly looking away again. He shifted his weight, “It wasn’t like that, I…it was…” his eyes flicked toward the staircase, “We had a colourful discussion,” he said more decisively, and glared at Dick as he added, “And I don’t care to give you a play-by-play.”

Dick almost looked taken aback for a second, but he quickly schooled his expression into something seemingly understanding, “Yeah, okay,” he said, with a tentative smile. “I didn’t mean to pry, Jay, I just—want to know that you two are…okay?”

Jason swallowed thickly and pulled his hands from his pockets, half turning away as he crossed his arms. He sighed, “…It’ll take more than that, Dickiebird…” he said quietly.

“What—why?” Dick asked, “I thought the two of you were going to fix things—”

“Can’t, Dickie…” Jason said at the wall, and Dick scoffed at his back, letting out a frustrated sound.

“I don’t understand, Jason,” he said, and took a quick breath, “Bruce is—” Jason ducked his head, briefly shutting his eyes tight. “Well, you know…” he said carefully. “You were in there practically all day and you’re telling me—” a breathy, humourless, incredulous laugh passed his lips, “—nothing’s changed?”

Jason took a deep breath of his own, turning around, blinking, “Look, Dick – I’m sorry, okay? I can’t just—” he cut off, arms tightening against his chest, and his gaze turning from Dick to scowl at a dark corner in the foyer instead. The light overhead was dim, flickering irregularly. He didn’t want to see Dick’s response to his words no matter how dim the lighting, though. He hadn’t expected to – he’d hoped not to – come across Dick – or anyone else – on his way out the door, and he felt too unprepared to explain himself properly. The words in his head were a mess – even more so coming out of his mouth.

“It’s not as simple as that,” he tried, “A lot of things—happened, and I—I’m sorry that he’s—” Jason licked his lips, turned the other way, “But I can’t just forgive him for—it’s not that easy, it’s not fair—it wouldn’t be honest—” he stopped short with a sharp intake of breath, blinking furiously at his feet.

“Okay,” Dick said into the abrupt quiet, sniffing loudly, “Okay, I—understand, you don’t have to…” Dick trailed off, and Jason shook his head at the floor—

“But, Jason, are you—will we see you here again, will you—?”

“No.”

“Jason,” Dick said, and Jason couldn’t help but scowl – he sounded like he was talking someone off a ledge, “I get it, it’s a lot to ask, to straighten everything out in one conversation, no matter how long it goes on, but—there’s still – we still have some, time, before—”

“Stop it, Dick!” Jason barked, facing the older man and feeling like a kid again – a half-baked fantasy coming to mind, of him storming bravely down the cave steps demanding of the Bat and his first bird that they quit their arguing, and, if his presence was so damn inconvenient he’d pack up his things and leave and Dick could have Robin back, never mind what Jason had told him his first night out, running into Nightwing in the middle of the gauntlet. Jason half-remembered making it down the first couple steps before he’d turned around and sprinted back to his room on shaky legs with tears in his eyes – he didn’t want to give Robin back.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” Dick said, like Nightwing, despite the tightness of his voice.

“I won’t,” Jason replied through grit teeth, his hands fisted at his sides and his chest stinging. He’d swiped his arms through the air turning, and shit, maybe he’d popped a stitch.

“I can’t believe that, Jay…” Dick shook his head. “Does—Bruce doesn’t mean that little to you—”

“I’m the one who means nothing to him—”

“That’s not true – you’re his son!”

“I’m his soldier,” Jason countered, voice cracking on the word and he recoiled in surprise, only to scowl at the expression on Dick’s face. “That’s all I ever was, and it’s all I’ll ever be,” Jason carried on, as firmly as he could, even as Dick was shaking his head in disagreement again, “No amount of talking will ever ‘fix’ this, Dick, and it doesn’t matter—we’ve said everything there was to say—”

“But nothing’s changed,” Dick repeated, desperately taking a step closer. Jason straightened up, fingers clenching tighter.

“Aren’t you listening – nothing will,” Jason insisted, “And I can’t stay here, pretending, Dick! I can’t pretend to be his son, when I know I’m not, and I can’t stay here like some loyal family member while he’s up there breathing his last damn breath – I refuse, that’s not fair—”

“But you are family, Jason – why won’t you get that through your thick head?” Dick snapped, his infamous temper for a moment making itself known.

“What do you care?” Jason barked back, “Why is this suddenly so damn important to you, Dick? You wanted nothing to do with me before—b-before I died, and after I came back – I was nothing but a menace to you, a killer—”

“I know,” Dick interrupted, and Jason had missed when he’d moved but he was right in front of him now, hands raised like he meant to touch, but didn’t, and Jason had backed up so much he could almost feel the door behind him, “I know, Jason, and—I’m sorry about that, but—” Dick’s fingers curled into tight fists as he blinked, looked away and licked at the split in his lip, “You—” there was a sardonic laugh in his tone he couldn’t hide, something bitter and resentful, “You tried to kill Tim,” he managed at last, and looked back up at Jason—

There was anger in his eyes, rooted as deep as any sadness, “And I,” he shook his head. “There is a little part of me, Jay, that will never be able to—to forgive you for that—”

Jason swallowed impulsively against the tightness in his throat, fingers twitching with the desire to do something – push Dick away, run off, say something, defend—

—but there was little he could say in his own defence that Dick would believe or accept, he knew, because—

Dick wasn’t entirely wrong.

He had tried to kill Tim—or, or hurt him, at least, but, even that much—Jason himself wasn’t convinced it was all notorious Pit-madness that made him do it, and he wasn’t—

—sure that, if he had to do it over—

—he’d do it different—

—and Dick wouldn’t—

—like that—

“—and, and Da—” Dick cut off, like the air in his throat wasn’t enough to form the name with, and Jason had the sudden urge to—

—

—he could remember, when he was a kid, just starting out, and Dick flashed him a smile or told him he’d done good, how the world just—

—seemed a little brighter, because Jason fucking Todd had made his predecessor—proud—

“Dickie—” Jason said, uncertainly, barely a whisper—

Dick shook his head – he’d looked away, shut his eyes and lowered his hands at some point, but they were still tight fists, only just not shaking—

“You disappointed me, Jason,” Dick said, quiet. Jason flinched without having meant to, and couldn’t quite manage to school his features into something more impassive when Dick met his eyes. “But I know it wasn’t all you, and I had no right to—to really be disappointed in you or angry, at you, we weren’t—” he breathed in a steadying breath and combed stiff fingers through his hair while Jason stared, not knowing what to say one way or another, “We weren’t family, not really, before you…you know,” Dick shrugged, “And I know that was more my fault than yours – you, you came in at a bad time, and, you were just one more thing I could hold against Bruce, and I didn’t mean to, Jay, but you were wearing my colours and my name after Bruce had fired me because he was too concerned for my safety—”

Jason breathed, Dick’s words twisting unintentionally in his head. Abruptly he found his voice, “I don’t want to hear this, Dick—”

“But I want you to – you need to understand. You want to know why I’m so insistent; let me explain—”

“You’re guilty,” Jason said, and the words were unexpectedly heavy on his tongue. Dick blinked at him, surprised. “You feel guilty. For the way you treated me, when I was a kid – for not being my ‘big brother’ like you think you should have been – and this—me, now—” he gestured himself, and chuckled, scornful, “This is your second chance—to make it right?” it was less of a question and more a derisive statement. Jason scowled, even as Dick shook his head—

“No, Jay—”

“Don’t pretend, Dick,” Jason cut him off, and he did push at Dick’s shoulders then, creating some distance between them, “You’re the one who feels bad about the way things were,” he said, pointing a finger at Dick, “And would you look? Here I am!” he spread his arms, “Like coming back from the damn dead was just for you—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“What else is there to mean? You screwed up with me—”

“Yes, I did, but—”

“Well, I didn’t come back for you—”

“I wasn’t implying—”

“—or Bruce—”

“Jason—”

“Or any of you—” Jason said, shoving Dick back with one hand as he came closer, and Dick, exasperated and frustrated, backed up, expression tired and annoyed, an impatient breath leaving him in a huff—

“—so you could get a chance at feeling better, at fixing your screw-ups – you got to do that with my replacement,” Jason hissed, teeth grit, and in the wake of his conversation with Bruce, everything about Tim seemed to sting again—

“You’re not listening to me—” Dick tried again, moving to close the gap between them—

“I came back for me!” Jason declared, grabbing Dick by the shirt and shoving without letting go, Dick catching Jason’s wrist with one hand in turn, gaze hard, defiant, even as he let Jason talk, “So I could do good, so I could fix things – so I could do,” his grip tightened, “What you won’t, because someone, has to. And you just don’t get that,” he emphasised, shoving hard and letting go of Dick’s shirt as he made to move back, twist out of the older man’s grip, but Dick held fast, pulling Jason closer and grabbing onto his elbow with his other hand to keep him both steady and in place—

Jason pushed back again, heat in his neck and his ears, and his chest, “I’m not your chance at redemption or some shit—”

“Aren’t you, though?” Dick challenged, shoving at Jason’s arm hard enough he had to take a step back to steady himself. “Wasn’t that your entire plan when you came back to Gotham, Jay? To give Bruce a chance at making amends with you? You or the Joker, isn’t that what you said?”

“Well he didn’t pick me, did he?” Jason retorted, closing the gap between them and pushing at Dick with his forearm, but the acrobat held his footing, grip tightening again on Jason’s wrist and elbow when he made to move back—

“Are you done, then?” Dick asked.

“Let go,” Jason replied, plainly threatening, but Dick didn’t waver.

“Promise you’ll listen,” he demanded, a sliver of desperation lightening his tone, “Please, Little Wing—”

Jason scowled at the nickname, as he so often did, but Dick’s expression didn’t change and his eyes didn’t soften as he looked up at Jason. Despite being the shorter man Dick was no less intimidating.

“Fine,” Jason scowled, “What?”

“You’re not wrong,” Dick said bluntly, and Jason snorted and rolled his eyes, looking away as he blinked and soaked in the burn at his chest for something else to feel – he’d been half-hoping, at the back of his mind, that Dick would tell him he wasn’t right; Dick wasn’t attempting to redeem himself, make himself feel better with a second chance at being the big brother he felt guilty about never having been—

“I do want to fix things—”

“You can’t, it’s too late,” Jason cut in, no part of him prepared to hear the rest of that – not with his conversation with Bruce in the back of his mind and the feeling of every reminder the manor evoked in his gut or the weight of his own, defiant plans on his shoulders, “That kid is dead, Dick – there’s no fixing things with him—”

“But that’s not true, Jason – a part of him is still in you—listen,” Dick insisted, trying to catch Jason’s eye when he looked farther away still, exasperated, “You still want to help, to do the right thing, and as much as you claim we’re not your family, you still care about us—”

“If you’re talking about your precious little Tim,” Jason started derisively as he moved to relieve his arm from Dick’s grip again—

“Not just Tim,” Dick let go, but the look he gave Jason made the younger man pause.

“I don’t—”

“Damian,” Dick all but choked, his eyes at once filling with unshed tears. He barked a laugh, sniffed and straightened his shoulders in an attempt to compose himself and Jason—

—took a step back as though the physical distance would repeal the guilt—

“I was there, remember?” Dick said when he could manage it. Jason couldn’t find enough air in his lungs for anything but breathing or he might have derailed the conversation with some snide thing or another. “You cut me off and got there first – restrained Tim so he wouldn’t—wouldn’t follow and get himself hurt, more than he already was, and then you went in, and—tried to, tried to save him—”

“Crap ton of good that did,” Jason spoke through a stuttering exhale.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dick replied, and Jason had to stop himself from saying anything more, because Dick didn’t know—

“I saw your face,” Dick continued, determined for Jason to understand, “When you came out of the fire with him—i-in your arms, and I—”

—it was only because Jason had been involved at all that Damian—

“—I knew you’d tried everything you could, and, and you wished he wasn’t—”

—was dead—

“…dead.”

Jason breathed, the air somehow burning his insides, backing up as he put a hand to his chest where, miracle of all miracles, he wasn’t bleeding after all—

“You looked just like I remembered you…” Dick added. “And I was as grateful as I was—hurt. I’m not betting on another miracle that will bring him back, Jason, I’m not that naïve – I don’t know why, or how, you came back; if it was luck, or a fluke, if it’ll ever happen to anyone ever again, if it’s just you, somehow, but—but I already lost you once and I didn’t even know it for the longest time, and when I found out, yes – there was so much regret. So many things I wished I’d said to you, or done with you, taught you—

“And I understand – you’re not my second chance, I get that, but, you are, still, my little brother. I need you to—to acknowledge that, or, or take it to heart, or – do—something—” Dick pled, his words echoing through Jason’s head, through the silence that followed—

—

—

“Dickie, I don’t—” but Dick breathed in through his nose, shoulders stiffening and his eyes closing tight, and Jason couldn’t, somehow, bear to finish that sentence—

“I can’t just—” he tried again, but stopped when Dick opened his eyes.

“Jason…you were a good kid,” he said, expression softening. “You’re a good kid now,” almost a laugh in his tone, “A good man. There is no part of you, that’s evil, or insane,” tentatively, Dick stepped closer, but Jason was slumped against the door, hand to his heart, pounding underneath his fingertips, and his eyes averted from Dick. “I can’t—can’t condone your thinking half the time, your methods,” his tone sounded strained, hurt, to Jason’s ears, admitting that, “But I—I don’t want to change you, Jason, I just want you—I don’t want to fight you, anymore…

“…Jay?”

Jason chanced a glace up, and Dick was standing right in front of him, brows knit and lips twisted into a painful frown.

“Whatever that was, whoever that was – who tried killing Tim, and Dami,” he added in a whisper, “You’re not him anymore. You might not be the same kid we lost as a teenager, Jason, but – you’re not the man who came back trying to take over as Batman, either.

“You’re my little brother, Jason,” a beat. “Tell me I’m not wrong, Little Wing.”

“I—” a masochistic part of him wanted to do the same thing he’d been doing all year – push and shove and deny, and, this time, since they were on the topic, do it in the worst possible way that would guarantee Dick never revisit this line of thinking, this avenue of peace, of brotherhood, between the two of them—

—all he had to do was confess—

—I killed Damian—

—despite it only being true technically, or, from a different angle, technically untrue—

—regardless – if he was serious at all about keeping his distance from them, having nothing to do with them—he’d say it—

“You’re dinner, Master Jason, sir,” Alfred’s voice preceded him into the foyer proper, the butler’s footfalls following heavily in the wake of his words.

A more selfish part of Jason was fifteen years old and the world was bright in his eyes—little brother—

A less hypocritical part of him wanted to confess, too, to the truth of the thing, but – honest as it was, it was breaking a promise, and, Jason didn’t know when or how it happened, but at some point, he’d turned into a big brother himself, and—

—being a big brother took precedence over being a little brother—

“I can be your little brother, Dick,” he said , low enough for Dick’s ears alone, although Alfred had stopped several feet away, allowing them another moment’s privacy. “I just can’t do it right here.”

A smile graced Dick’s lips and he put a hand to Jason’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, “I’ll take it,” he whispered back.

Allowing a smile to tug at his mouth in return, Jason straightened up and turned his expression on Alfred as the butler approached, Jason’s packaged dinner in hand. “Thanks, Al.”

The butler gave Jason’s chest a pointed look, politely suggesting he check his stitches at home. Jason nodded in acknowledgement, “Good night, Al. Dickie,” he added, reaching for the doorknob at his back.

“Travel safely, sir.”

“I will.”

“Good night, Little Wing. We’ll talk again, okay?” Dick added, as Jason slipped out the door and into the cool night air. “Don’t be a stranger,” Dick called after him, but Jason quickened his pace down the porch steps, across the thin blanket of snow without looking back until he was a good twenty paces away. Dick still stood in the doorway.

Jason waved, if somewhat half-heartedly, cowed by the guilt tight in his gut.

next->

[thefemalethatwrites]

Blood Daughter (Batsis)

Request: Nope.

Prompt: You’re the daughter of Bruce Wayne who’s been presumed dead for years.

Relationship: Father!Bruce x Daughter!Reader, Brothers!Dick/Jason/Tim/Damian x Sister!Reader

Warning: Cursing, Death

Word Count: 4110

A/N: Feel free to request anything that’s DC relate, by just inboxing me your request.

~~~

(Y/N)’s POV

I was sat in my father’s study facing the window, waiting for him to appear, I heard his footsteps get closer to the room before the door opened,

“So, how long did it take for you to replace me?” I asked glancing down at the photo frame in my lap,

“Who are you?” He asked,

“Aw, it’s a shame you don’t recognise my voice, but then again I was six when you last heard it” I say standing up as he gasped, I turned to face him “So, did you miss me?” I asked facing him,

“(Y/N)” He muttered as he stared at me with wide eyes,

“Hiya Paps” I smiled,

“How are you alive? I buried your body” he said, I held up my hand

“You buried a body” I say as I leaned against the desk, “Harley had a soft spot for me, so when the Joker left me to die, she got me out and dumped me on Ra Al Ghul’s doorstep on the brink of death. Eventually I died but I was dumped in the Lazarus Pit and came back to life” I say,

“Why didn’t you come visit?” He asked, I raised an eyebrow

“Because you replaced me. I didn’t it was possible to replace your own child, but you proved me wrong” I growled

“I never replaced you” He argued,

“Really? Because not even a month later Richard was in, not only in the family but my position as Robin” I growled standing up, he went to say something but I held my finger up, “I don’t want to hear it” I snap as I walked to the door, “I’ll be in my room, if you need me that is” I say before heading up to my room.

“Your daughter?!” I heard a voice yell before thuds closed in on my room, they stopped dead outside my door before there was a knock, I turned around to see two boys stood there,

“What do you want?” I asked facing them and folding my arms,

“Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick” The taller one introduced himself, the grip on my arm tightened as I narrowed my eyes,

“Tim Drake” The other introduced, I nodded

“(Y/N) Wayne, now if you don’t mind” I say as I walked past them and down to the front door before something was dropped making my head snap in its direction to see Alfred stood there staring at me, as a tray was at his feet,

“Miss (Y/N)…” He trailed off,

“What’s up Alfred? You look like you’ve seen a ghost” I smiled before leaving the Manor, I got in my car and headed downtown, I arrived outside an apartment building and got out and headed upstairs, I unlocked the door and changed into my ‘Anti-hero’ outfit and placed my infrared head on, the door opened and Jason walked in,

“Hello darling” He smiled as he came over and planted a kiss on my cheek,

“Hello love” I say as I ensured that my sniper rifle was working,

“So, Widow…” he trailed off, he had no idea what my true identity was, I turned to him to see him in his Red Hood outfit,

“What’s tonight action?” I asked,

“We get Batman. So, are you ready?” He asked, I smirked and nodded

“Let’s go” I say as we headed down to his motorcycle, we arrived and I got to a vantage point and had an eye on Jason through my sniper scope,

“Let the fun begin” He said through the com before causing some chaos, “How’s the view darling?” He asked as he took down another person, I sighed as I darted one that was creeping up on him, unlike Jason I couldn’t bring myself to kill even after everything I’d been through,

“I wish you wouldn’t leave yourself open like that, love” I sighed,

“I never have to worry because I’ve got you watching over me” He said, I shook my head “So, I was thinking” He said as he sat down to wait for father,

“That’s never good” I teased, he scoffed

“Anyway, since you know my identity, when do I get to find out yours?” he asked,

“When the time’s right. Looks like your guest has arrived” I say as Batman approached him, I kept tabs on the two of them before they went down an back alley, I growled in frustration before I grappled my way over and looked down the alley to find Jason fighting Nightwing as father was knelt on the floor, Jason knocked Nightwing away and cocked his pistol as he approached father, my eyes widened before I dropped down the alley knocking the pistol out of his hands and kicking him backwards,

“Widow…” he trailed off, the look of betrayal in his face,

“I was behind you for getting revenge on Bats but I won’t let you kill him” I say, as I stood in front of him protectively,

“You’re the last person I expect betrayal from, darling” he sighed before knocking my sniper rifle from my hands.

“Trust me, love. You would’ve expected it if you knew my identity” I say,

“Why don’t you show yourself then? I’m sure Batman would love to see who saved his ass” He spat, I removed my infrared headgear and dropped it on the ground, his eyes widened, “You’re his daughter?!” He yelled,

“(Y/N) Wayne, the original Robin” I sneered, rage cover his face as he picked up a metal pipe making my eyes widen in fear as I back away from him, I noticed a crowbar to my left,

“Two can play at this game, Jason” I growled as I picked the crowbar making him stop momentarily, I blocked his swing with it before tripping him up before making my way to my sniper rifle but he tripped me up making me drop the crowbar, he got up chuckling,

“You’re going to go out the same way” He taunted as I reached for my rifle, he went to hit me with the pipe but I darted him,

“Go to sleep” I growled as he dropped the pipe and pulled the dart out before he dropped to the floor, I closed my eyes and sighed in relief as I got up, “He’s not dead, just sleeping” I say turning to father and Richard,

“Are you-?”

“I’m fine, just take him” I snap cutting father off as I picked my headgear up and made my way back to the apartment to change into my usual attire before I cased up my outfit and gear and put them in the trunk of my car and drove to the Manor, when I arrived, I grabbed my case and went up to the front door only to have Alfred open it for me,

“Miss (Y/N), it’s lovely to see you again” He smiled, I nodded before making my way down to the Batcave, I noticed Jason in the holding cell as father and Richard were stood at the computer,

“Where can I put my things?” I asked making them turn and face me,

“The empty casing” Father said, I went over to the casing to see his Batman outfit, Richard’s Nightwing outfit, and the Robin outfit, probably Tim’s, the empty casing was where my Robin used to go above it was a small plaque with my initials engraved in it, I sighed as I put my Widow outfit and gear inside it and approached father, since Richard had disappeared upstairs as I putting my things away, “Why were you working with him?” He asked not taking his eyes off the screens,

“Because we’ve been working together for a couple years” I say, he grunted making me roll my eyes, “You abandoned me when I needed you most! You left your daughter in the hands of a psychotic murderer!” I snapped as he began to walk away,

“I had just arrived when that place went up in flames!” He yelled,

“I don’t care! I died! And you couldn’t wait a f*cking month! A month! Before replacing me!” I screamed, he dropped his head “I may have been working with a killer but let me tell you this, not once did I break you ‘no killing’ rule” I say as he left the cave, I threw myself in the computer chair letting out a sigh before I fell asleep.

***

I jolted up from the nightmare, panting, I was still in the cave making sigh as I ran a hand over my face, I had been having the same nightmare over the past eleven years, I groaned as I stood up and walked past the holding cell where Jason was stood up,

“Nightmare?” I asked, he didn’t look at me,

“No, it was your nightmare” He said turning to me, I dropped my head “Care to give the full details on your death, now I know your identity” He said,

“Get ready for one hell of a story” I say as I sat in front of the cell, he sat down in front of me, I took a deep breath, “So, the Joker found out that I was Robin and kidnapped me, when I was six, while my father was at a gala, he then took me to a warehouse, where Harley Quinn was waiting, however her face dropped when she realised how young I was, I was restrained with barbed wire and then he began to torture me, trying to have me tell him that father was Batman but I wouldn’t speak, months went by and I could barely stay conscious since he began beating me with a metal pipe, then my seventh birthday came along, the Joker didn’t come in that day to beat me, but Harley came in, she removed the barbed wired and chatted with me as she cleaned most of the cuts and scrapes, then when I told her it was my birthday she broke down in tears hugging me, and apologising, she then left me but came back with a cupcake with a candle on and we had a mini-celebration, she did all that because it was my birthday. Then the Joker came and beat her, until she fell unconscious, the he hung me up by my arms with the barbed wire and tortured me until he had his fun and put a bomb in the room with me, lucky for me though, Harley came conscious and got me out before it blew up. She then took me to Ra Al Ghul, where I died from blood lost” I explained as I felt tears run down my face, I sighed as I wiped them away,

“That’s why you coward away from me when I picked up the metal pipe” he said, I nodded as I stood up,

“You may have had it rough Jason, but at least you were older, didn’t have to spend a f*cking birthday being tortured, and have had the same reoccurring nightmare for the past eleven years” I spat as I began to walk away,

“Why’d you save him?” He asked making me stop in my tracks,

“Because no matter what resentment I have against him, he’s still my Dad and the only family I have left” I say turning to him slightly,

“I’m really sorry” He apologised, I ignored him and went up to my room.

***

I was sat in the cave, since Jason, Dick and Tim had something to do and father was out meeting up with someone,

“Alfred?” Father asked through the com,

“He’s not here. What’s the message?” I asked,

“We’ve got a visitor” He said,

“I’ll pass it on” I say before heading up to find Alfred, “Alfred” I say,

“Yes Milady?” He asked turning to me,

“Father said we have a visitor, so I’m presuming that he wants you to set up a room for them” I say, he nodded

“I’ll get to it immediately” He said before I went back into the cave, the Batmobile came to a stop in the cave and father got out along with a young boy.

“Who’s the kid?” I asked,

“I’m not a kid” He hissed, I raised an eyebrow at him,

“(Y/N), this is Damian Wayne. My son, and your little brother” He introduced, I looked down at Damian to see him glaring up at me,

“Talia al Ghul?” I asked turning to father, he nodded “Well, as long as he doesn’t piss me off, we’ll get along fine” I say as they came up so he could put his Batman suit away, Damian looked at my outfit,

“You’re the Widow?” He scoffed looking at me,

“I am, problem?” I asked,

“What’s the point in being the best sniper in the world and not killing anyone?” He asked,

“Because I respected my father’s rule” I growled, he rolled his eyes and tutted,

“Let’s get you to your room” Father said as we exited the cave, I headed into my room, which happened to be across from the brats.

***

“You really are a massive ego, aren’t you? The pure and perfect Dick Grayson; The first Robin” Damian said as I entered the Cave to see him being pressed up against a glass casing that had Dick’s Robin outfit in,

“It’s funny you say that, Damian, because Robin was actually a girl” I smirked, gaining both of their attention,

“Based on what I’m seeing I was the only Robin” Dick said making my smirk drop,

“Let my brother go. This is now just between us” I growled approaching them, he let go and faced me,

“You think you can beat me?” He smirked,

“Damian move. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire” I warned before I avoided a swing from Dick, “If I hadn’t of died, you would’ve never become Robin” I snap landing a kick into his side making him let out a yell,

“Well you got sloppy” He retorted as I avoided his roundhouse kick.

“You’re just an orphan he took pity on. I’m blood!” I yell as I landed a roundhouse kick in his face shortly followed by three punches to the gut, then an upper-cut sending him over the railing into a chair, “I’m his daughter” I stated glaring down at him, he groaned as he moved his jaw,

“That you are” He said, I smirked before turning to Damian

“You deserve to be Robin as much as that did, don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. Just don’t kill, yeah?” I say as he stared at me, he nodded so I turned my attention back to Dick,

“Don’t forget who was the first Robin, Nightwing” I warned,

“I won’t, Widow” He replied standing up, as I left the Cave.

***

I shot up from the nightmare panting and sweating, I went to the ensuite and washed my face with cold water before heading back to bed,

“(Y/N)?” Damian’s voice echoed as he opened my door, I sat up

“What’s up buddy?” I asked as he made his way over to me,

“I heard you screaming, are you alright?” He asked, general concern in his voice,

“Did I wake you?” I asked, he nodded slightly “I’m sorry bud. It was just a nightmare” I say,

“Can I stay with you? So, I can protect you from the nightmares” He said making me tear up as I nodded,

“I’d appreciate that” I smiled as he climbed in next to me, “Goodnight bud” I say kissing his forehead before closing my eyes, he wrapped his arms around my stomach and hugged me,

“I’ll protect you” He whispered, I bit my lip as I held back the tears and returned the hug before falling asleep again.

***

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled as I entered the Cave, I looked over to him to see him, Jason, Tim and Damian in their Robin outfits,

“What are you doing?” I asked as I went over to them,

“Being Robin” Jason answered, I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow

“Why?” I questioned, they shrugged

“Dick talked us into it” Tim answered,

“We even found yours” Damian said as he held up my Robin outfit making my eyes widened as I took it off him,

“He kept it” I muttered as I looked over it, it was missing its badge,

“Put it on!” Dick demanded,

“No” I say,

“We got Alfred to create another for you so it would fit you” Tim said as he held up another Robin outfit, I sighed

“Fine” I say as I took the new one and changed into it, I sighed as I looked upon the scars on my arms and legs from the barbed wire,

“(Y/N) you forgot your boots and mask” Damian said as he came around the corner with them in his hand,

“Thanks bud” I say as I removed them from him and put them on, thankfully they were high boots so they covered most of my legs, hiding the scars, I tied my hair back before putting on the mask, I walked out to meet the boys and they all stared at me, “What?” I asked,

“Your arms…” Dick trailed off before Jason jabbed him in the ribs,

“This is why I didn’t want to wear it” I snap as I went to change back but stopped as Dad and Alfred were stood there with wide eyes,

“What are you doing?” Dad asked,

“Going to change out of this” I replied as I made my way to change,

“We wanted to surprise you with us all being Robin” Dick answered, I sighed as I went back out to them and threw the outfit at them,

“I don’t care what you do with it, I don’t want to see it again” I growled before turning on my heel and going back upstairs.

***

I arrived just in time to see the Heretic and Damian fighting, I swung down kicking the Heretic away from Damian as he went to finish him off,

“Why don’t you fight someone your own size” I growled as I picked up a sword, they came at me and we began to duel, the sword was knocked out of my hand making my eyes widened before they drove the sword through my chest making me gasp,

“No!” Damian yelled as I reached for a sleeping dart and jammed it into their neck,

“Go to sleep” I spat as they dropped to the lower level as I fell to the ground and Damian ran over to me and removed the sword from my chest,

“You’re going to be alright. You’re an idiot, you know that” He said as tears appeared in his eyes.

Damian’s POV

“Takes an idiot to know one” (Y/N) groaned making me scoff,

“Come on, let’s get you out of here” I say as I tried to pick her up,

“You won’t be able to get me out of here, bud” She said before coughing up blood making my eyes widened, “I’m dying here, whether you like it or not” She chuckled,

“No! Don’t say that! You still have to take me to the amusement park!” I cried, she took my hand in hers,

“I’ve died once already, bud. A second time won’t hurt, after all, you’re here with me” She said as tears ran down her face,

“No! I promised to protect you!” I yelled as my tears fell on to her suit,

“You can’t protect me from everything bud. I love you” She said before her body fell limp,

“No. No! (Y/N), please wake up” I begged as I hugged her body and cried.

“Damian! Are you alright?” Father asked as he ran over to me, I looked up to him to see his face drop,

“(Y/N)…” He trailed off collapsing to his knees,

“I couldn’t save her” I say, he mentioned me to come over to him which I did and he pulled me into a hug,

“It’s alright, I don’t blame you” He said as his voice broke, we pulled apart and he picked (Y/N)’s body up before we left the building, we arrived home and Grayson, Todd, Drake and Pennyworth were stood waiting, all their faces dropped as Father carried (Y/N) out of the Batmobile,

“No…” Grayson trailed off as he dropped his head,

“This can’t be happening” Drake muttered, Todd just stared at (Y/N)’s limp body in horror, while Pennyworth took (Y/N) off father and took her away, probably to clean her up, we all sat in silence in the living room before Pennyworth brought (Y/N)’s body, wrapped up, making us all rise from out seats, father removed (Y/N) from his arms and we all went out into the garden, there was a hole in the ground underneath her headstone waiting for, father placed (Y/N) into the hole as tears ran down everyone’s faces, he stood up and placed an arm around me, Grayson went up to her headstone and placed a bullet on it,

“The bullet you saved me from” He whispered as he stood back up, Drake was the next one to place a small box,

“It’s an upgrade for your headgear, I was working on” He said as he stood up, Todd bent down and placed dog-tags down,

“From the good days” He said patting the top of the headstone, I placed a framed photo of the two of us, on one of the many ‘adventures’ she took me on, I just placed a hand on her headstone before standing next to father again, he bent down and placed a tattered Robin badge,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get to you in time, again” He said, Pennyworth placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

***

(Y/N)’s POV

I gasp loudly as I sat up, I noticed Father knelt in front of me as Dick, Jay, Tim and Damian stood behind him, all wearing a Robin badge,

“(Y/N)?” Father asked, I pulled him into a hug,

“I’m back” I whispered as tears appeared in my eyes, he gave me a squeeze as he pulled me out of the capsule,

“Yes you are” He said making me cry, the boys joined in with the hugs crying with happiness,

“The next time I die, just leave me dead” I chuckled making them all laugh, we arrived home and was met by Alfred, I ran up to him and gave him a hug,

“I missed you too, Miss (Y/N)” he said as he patted my back, I pulled away to see tears in his eyes, I smiled at him before I was taken to my room, I stood out on my balcony and frown as I noticed an extra headstone next to my grandparents, I grabbed some shoes and went outside to them, only to find that the third was mine, it had a tatter Robin badge, a bullet, a box, dog-tags and a framed picture of Damian and myself, I sighed as I picked them all up, I looked at the dog-tags, ‘Jason Peter Todd; Red Hood’ was engraved on one and ‘Unknown; Widow’ was on the other, I smiled slightly as I put them on, I then inspected the bullet and shook my head

“Of course, you’d keep the bullet that almost killed you” I chuckled before I opened the box and found a small chip and a piece of paper ‘For your headgear’ I smiled

“Thanks Tim” I say as I closed the box, I stared at the photo frame and smiled at the memory, it was the day that I took him to a Haunted house, it was taken seconds before we were scared sh*tless,

“I’m still holding on to you taking me to an Amusement park” Damian said from behind me making me turn to face him, I smiled

“I’ll take you this weekend” I say wrapping an arm around his shoulder,

“You better” He said as he playfully glared at me, I chuckled and shoved him slightly as we made our way back inside, we stopped outside our rooms and I handed him the frame back,

“Let’s try to make more memories before we die” I smiled as I crouched down to him, he tackled me with a hug, shocking me but I returned it smiling,

“I missed you” He whispered,

“I missed you too, bud” I say pulling away,

“Now get to sleep” I say messing his hair up as I stood up, I went into my room and set the Robin badge on my bedside table next to a photo frame of myself and father as Batman and Robin, and another of all seven of us.

[coffee-n-some-cream]

The Space I Filled - Chapter 6: Take Your Antibiotics and Make a Wish

Tim came to consciousness slowly, his vision black and his head fuzzy and throbbing. What had happened? Last he remembered, he had been in his room doing… what had he been doing? Laundry, wasn’t is? Yes. He had been doing laundry, but he had felt… oh. This again.

He pried his eyes open, blinking several times, and registered the blurry view of his nightstand from his bedroom floor. He placed one hand on the floor, took a few deep breaths, and tried to push himself up from the floor. The effort sent a wave of lightheadedness through him, his vision going white momentarily, and he collapsed back onto the floor, panting heavily.

He felt like he had just gone through his full workout with just that small exertion, his forehead suddenly covered in sweat, but in contrast his whole body was shaking with a chill. He pushed his forehead against the floor and huffed out a frustrated breath.

“Gabe? You here?”

Shit. He hadn’t heard her come through the door, or even knock. He didn’t want her to find him like this. He didn’t want to scare or worry her. And he didn’t want her to see him this weak. But he couldn’t really help it, could he?

“Gabe, where are you? You left all the lights on, I know you’re here. Gabe?”

Still. He refused to call to her. If she found him like this, fine, but he wasn’t going to help her. He lay in resigned yet stubborn silence on his bedroom floor and listened to her wander about his apartment looking for him.

“Gabe?” she called again, and this time she sounded like she was right outside the bedroom door. “I hope you’re not naked in there or anything, ‘cause I’m coming in!”

He couldn’t see the door as he was rolled away from it, but he heard it open and Adriana walk in.

“Oh my GOD! Gabe!” She was suddenly at his side, hands hovering over him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Tim sighed. “I’m f-fine, Adriana, j-just…” he trailed off with frustration when he couldn’t make his teeth stop chattering as he spoke.

To his surprise, Adriana’s face went from panicked to a focus that almost seemed professional. She scanned him with her eyes and checked his pulse, pupils, and temperature, taking in all his symptoms - shivering, pale, sweating, feverish, weak, semi-conscious, pupils dilated, heavy breathing, and judging from all the swallowing, a sore throat.

“Your body is trying it’s damnedest to fight an infection, Gabe,” she said as she began helping him off the ground and into his bed, which was thankfully right next to where he had passed out.

“I kn-know,” he said, “This h-happens every n-now and again.”

Adriana shot him an incredulous look as she adjusted the sheets around him. “What happens?”

“I c-catch something and it hits me like a ton of bricks,” he deadpanned, slowly gaining control of his chattering teeth as being under his covers warmed him.

“Are you sure?” Adriana said as she wandered into the adjoining bathroom to search through his medicine cabinet for something to give him. “This is pretty serious, Gabe, I find it hard to believe you get sick like this very often.”

Tim shrugged. “Well, I don’t have a spleen, so.”

Adriana stopped rifling through the cabinet and poked her head out to stare at him. “You don’t have a spleen?” she asked with horror.

Tim smiled at her despite how absolutely shitty he felt. “It’s not that uncommon. I had to have it removed.”

Adriana rolled her eyes at him. “I know it’s not uncommon, Gabe, my mom’s a nurse, remember?” She turned her attention back to the medicine cabinet, pulling out a bottle and reading its label. “It’s just that if you don’t have a spleen, and the spleen, yanno, helps fight infection, you need to have antibiotics or vaccines fairly often to fight off the massive amount of infections you could get.”

“Yes, Adriana, I know. I had my spleen removed, remember?” he said patiently, before closing his eyes. He was exhausted.

“Well, smart guy, I don’t see any,” she responded.

“Any what?” he mumbled.

“Any antibiotics.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t have any.”

Adriana closed the cabinet and he heard her walk over to stand next to the bed. “You don’t have any?”

“That’s what I said,” he said, not even opening his eyes to look at her. Too tired. “You’re such a good pupil, you listen so well.”

“Gabe, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

His eyes shot open at that and he reached out to grab her wrist. She jumped back and stared at him, startled.

“No hospital.”

Her brow knit. “Gabe, you-”

“No. Hospital.”

Hospitals held records, hospitals asked for ID, hospitals tried to identify you. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a fake ID, but being in a hospital was a permanent stamp on any area he was in, like a footprint left for anyone who knew where to look. They would register him, have a description of him, note that he doesn’t have a spleen. If anyone were looking for him, that would be one of the first places they checked. Hospitals were for emergencies only. This was not an emergency.

Adriana watched him carefully, then looked down at his grip on her wrist. He quickly let go of her and curled his hand against his stomach.

“Alright. No hospital,” she agreed, albeit grudgingly. “But I’m going down to the drugstore and I’m picking up some antibiotics for you, and hopefully your body will sort this out on its own.”

Tim nodded in agreement. “Good plan. Mentor approves.”

Adriana shook her head at him and walked out of the room, muttering, “You’re weird when you’re sick.”

By the time she got back with a bag of antibiotics, pain meds, and a few cans of chicken noodle soup, Gabe had descended into a feverish, delirious mess. He was mumbling to himself incoherently and, upon seeing her walk through the bedroom door, attempted to order her out of the room.

“Excuse me?” she asked, incredulous.

“Out!” he demanded, pointing a finger imperiously at the door. “The sickness can’t spread!”

Adriana stared at him for a moment, mouth hanging open, before she said, “Uh, no.”

Gabe produced what can only be called a growl and buried himself further into his sheets. Then he started mumbling again. “Insubordinate… I’m the leader of the Titans now, you do what I say, little miss ‘I do what I want,’ just ‘cause you’re Superman’s kid, well…”

Adriana elected to ignore his nonsensical mutterings and set about administering the antibiotics, which he was thankfully cooperative about.

“Okay, Gabe, there’s pain meds here if you want them,” she said, jiggling the container before setting it on the dresser next to his bed along with a glass of water.

Gabe turned to look at her, eyes wide and searching. “Who is Gabe?”

Adriana looked at him and reconsidered taking him to the hospital for a moment, but instead just turned to leave. “You’re delirious. I’m going to make you some chicken soup. Be back in a bit.”

Gabe hummed and mumbled something. Adriana stopped and turned back to him, expecting more nonsense.

“What was that?” she called, leaning forward.

“What a shit way to spend my birthday,” he muttered, slightly louder.

She stared at him. “It’s your birthday?”

“Ugh. Yeah. Twenty-five years old as of today,” he grumped, suddenly sounding much more coherent as he waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Don’t tell them though, they’ll try to make something of it.”

Adriana looked around the room as if the people Gabe was referring to were somehow hiding there. “Don’t tell… who?”

“ Them. Oh, nevermind, Steph.”

Adriana raised an eyebrow. “I’m Adriana…?”

“Uh-huh.” Gabe rolled over onto his side, turning his back to her, and almost immediately began to snore.

Adriana stared at him for a few more moments before shaking her head with a smile and heading toward the kitchen to make the soup. She was never going to let him live this down.

*

Nightwing looked out over Gotham city as he dangled his legs off the side of an apartment building and sipped on the ice coffee he had purchased at the cafe a little ways down the block. He kicked his legs back and forth and sighed. He remembered on this day, years ago,  he’d make an impromptu visit to his little brother’s place and drag him out to have some fun, or maybe he’d just stay in and hang with him. Whichever. He’d be with him. Nowadays, that wasn’t really an option. Didn’t mean he couldn’t celebrate the kid’s birthday at all, though.

“How are you, Tim?” he began, as he always did. “Things are alright here, in case you want to know. Damian hit a growth spurt. Again. He’s gonna be taller than you soon and he’s only fifteen. Jason’s good, he’s talking to me more. Still stubborn though. He actually misses you, I think. Babs still has that program looking for you, you know. She checks it every weekend, but… I think she gave up on it a while ago.” He frowned a bit, then took another sip of his coffee.

“You know, Bruce doesn’t like to talk about you when this day comes around, but I know he’s thinking about you. Trying not to, of course, but he is. Alfred is too. He gets a little more sullen this day every year. And Cass… let’s see. She’s doing beautifully in her ballet lessons, Tim, you’d be proud. She’s doing good. Don’t see her much though. Steph is good too. She took it hard when you disappeared but she bounced back. She’s like that. Which you already knew.”

He took a long sip of the ice coffee and furrowed his brow. “Who am I forgetting…? Oh!” He chuckled. “Me! I’m doing great, as always, I’m just. I don’t know. A little tired. Tonight’s been rough. Talking to you has made me feel better though. I wish the others would join me for this little tradition, but… Yeah, they say it feels like they’re mourning you. The only person I can ever celebrate today with is- Oh, there he is.”

Dick looked up to the sky and watched as Superboy descended toward the roof, small smile on his face and coffee in hand.

“Hey, Kon!” Dick called.

“Hey,” Superboy responded, perching beside him on the edge of the roof. “Got my coffee.”

“Actual coffee this time?” Dick asked.

“Nah, you know I hate the stuff. I got a hot chocolate.”

Dick nodded. “Wise choice.”

Kon held up his styrofoam cup and Dick responded in kind, both their drinks bought from Tim’s favorite coffee shop in Gotham.

“To being twenty-five years old. Happy Birthday, Tim,” Kon said, his voice heavy but steady.

“Happy Birthday, Tim,” Dick repeated, and tapped the edge of his cup against Kon’s.

They both took a sip, then sat side by side and watched the bustle of Gotham city.

AO3