#i love queue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cas-backwards-tie · 10 months

Text

Chapter Three: Memories Embarked

Heiress of Gotham

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Runaway plan going sideways, will a visit home profit, or encourage further mourning? Revelations, keepsakes, suspicions, and more are brought back when you finally return.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Grief, Guns, Insults, Exclusion, Embarrassment, Crying,

Mentions of: Drugs, Sex, Crime, Yelling, Domestic Violence, Robbery, Secrets, Poverty, Unbelonging, Funeral Arrangements

Bruce hadn't been keen on revealing details about the girl's mother. Sure, he let them know there was nothing mysterious about her death, but that's about it. From her words at dinner, Jason could tell she didn't grow up wealthy by any means, but he wasn't expecting this. Sure, it's not as bad as Crime Alley, but it's definitely not the kind of place he'd want to raise a kid. Let alone a place he could imagine someone growing up in.

Following her up the flights of stairs to the sixth floor, he's surprised when she whips out the key from her jacket's pocket like she'd been planning on this. He guesses she had. Still, part of him anticipated the teenager having forgotten the key and having to wind up kicking the door in.

"Just in here," you announce, pushing the key into its keyhole.

Climbing the last few stairs, Jason notices how your body language appears much more relaxed than at the table in the Manor, earlier. It's somewhat hard to ignore the sound of people fucking you'd passed on the fourth floor, then there's the yelling, the loud televisions, the smell of weed, and the sirens down the street. Yet, you seem entirely unfazed.

He watches as you enter, slipping off your Converse at the door. He follows suit, unlacing his boots and stepping out of them to be respectful. With a swift hand, he closes and locks the door behind you two. Backpack tossed onto the couch, he watches as you go over and turn the television off. Why was it even on? Hadn't your mother died? Was someone in here? Were you expecting someone? The casual nature in your behavior is eerie, nonetheless, he traces along the walls of the room, taking in everything.

"It's so people think we're home," you reveal, "the tv. You looked confused." With quick feet, you head down the hallway. It's curious that you come back with a bowl, however, he easily puts two and two together as he spots little fish painted around the circumference of it. You walk into the kitchen, nonchalantly tossing the bowl onto the counter before opening the fridge. The light within illuminates your face and it's only a matter of seconds before you're placing some sort of leftovers from a white styrofoam container into the bowl and heading back down the hallway. When you don't come back, he follows where you'd gone.

"I know that this will be hard, but it's for the best! Plus, I know Mrs. Garcia won't be missing you more than me," you whisper, upper body leaning out onto the fire escape's landing. Eyes trailing past you, he finds a fluffy white cat just outside, happily purring and eating whatever it was you'd laid before him. Without turning to look, you speak up, voice no longer holding the soft and sweet sentiment it just held for the animal. "It's our upstairs neighbor's cat. She doesn't really take the best care of him, so I feed him sometimes." With a last sentiment spared toward the feline, you close the window and lock it. Good, hopefully, the others are already locked, he thinks.

"So you can't keep him. That's too bad," Jason remarks, false sympathy in his voice as he eyes the knick-knacks on your dresser. At least, he assumes, considering the very colorful nature of the room and the stuffed animals on the bed. "Damian is a sucker when it comes to animals. Would've been a good way to bond with him," he teases.

"This is my room. I'll just be a minute! I need to check a few things and… then we can go." You started confident, but he could tell that this was painful for you. The thought of leaving again. Eyes unmoving from his, he watches as you shyly tuck a strand of your bangs behind your ear before he nods and starts to let himself back out into the hall. Hand catching on the door, he holds onto it as he decides to ask, rather than rummage through the entire apartment.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" This time it's you who's surprised as he observes the way you give him a strange look.

"Um… yeah, why, do you need it?" Despite the question, you're already moving toward him, then around and past as you make your way back to the kitchen. Up within a cabinet, Jason watches as you struggle to reach it on your tiptoes. While he's not that close with you and knows some people prefer doing things themself, he doesn't like to watch people struggle. Just as he closes the steps between you to grab it, you let out a proud exclamation and gently cradle it on the descent. "Did you cut yourself or something?"

"Actually no, but I noticed you did. You can't just let it stay like that," he argues. The look on your face sends him racing to beat you to the punch. Before you can protest, he adds, "If anything I'm not letting you leave here without patching that up. I'm not getting more blood and who knows what else on my shirt or jacket." He doesn't miss the glare you shoot him, but he doesn't acknowledge it either.

Sliding the kit out from under your hand on the counter, he opens it to retrieve a bandage and some antibiotic ointment. With a gesture of his head, you turn your palm face up to reveal a few scrapes, some having elicited blood though it all looks dried by now, and a few tiny splinters lodged into the skin. He'd ask you to take them out, but you're already on top of it, preparing your hand as he unscrews the cap on the ointment. Within a minute, you're all patched up, no argument, no complaints; an easy job, really.

"I'll stay in here, I guess. Get your stuff and then we're outta here, alright?" Jason suggests. You seem content enough with this as you nod in his direction before heading back toward your room.

Essentials. Essentials… what even are essentials? Hastily grabbing your bag of hair ties, your hair brush, deodorant, and some of your more important clothing items: bras, panties, and sleeping shirts, you toss them into your bag. With those out of the way, really, what else should you bring? Immediately your eyes are drawn to the shelf of books, movies, and other collections of items within. Crouching before it, you grab your photo album. You can't forget your favorite bear, the one your aunt had gifted you when you were born. With his head sticking out of the bag as he won't fit any further into it, you decide that apart from one final task, all that's left is the other two rooms: your mother's and the bathroom.

Emptying your piggy bank into your backpack, you pull the door open and head into her room. Luckily, Jason seems occupied snooping through the living room. With an unnecessary urgency, you pull the mattress away from the headboard and round the bed. You crawl up to the pillows, tossing them aside before you lift the corner of the bedsheet. It looks untouched, but that doesn't mean it wasn't. There's a six-inch cut in the mattress; it's easy to miss if you're not looking, but you've known about it since you were eight and caught your mom stashing her last paycheck's worth of money inside. With searching hands you feel around inside. One stack after another is produced from the hiding spot. Altogether, there are stacks of at least, if you had to guess… maybe fifteen, sixteen bundles of hundreds on the bed.

Upon hurriedly transferring the cash from your mother's room into your backpack you'd stupidly left in your room, you're met with Jason's form at the end of the hallway on the last trip. Stacks of hundreds cradled in your arm, your eyes widen. "Where'd you-"

"It's not what it looks like!" You defend. He calls your name in a stern tone, yet you only offer him a Cheshire smile and evade him into your room, placing the last of the bundles inside. "They're mine! Okay? My mom's."

"But h-"

"-She-we don't really trust the banks, okay? Let's keep it at that." Unwilling to part with it, you sling the almost-closed backpack onto one shoulder before walking toward the door. He blocks it.

"I just have to get a few more things and I'm ready, alright?" The hopefulness in your voice does nothing to wipe the disconcerted look from his face.

"I can't just not tell Bruce about this, kid," he warns, a look you can only guess is akin to disappointment on his face. Slipping under his arm and out the door into the hallway, you head back to her room.

"That's fine! But it's still my money. It's everything she ever worked for, and I'm not giving it to him." Upon reentering your mother's room, you stop in the doorway. Sure, the mattress and pillows are askew from your manhandling, but something feels off. Eyes darting to her desk, the top drawer is open, along with some of the side drawers not fully closed. Dresser drawers halfway open with some sock couplings on the floor, it's clear. "Someone's been here," you whisper. Heart jumping in your chest at Jason's proximity, standing just behind you, your hand holds your chest.

"You mean before we got here? How do you know?" He asks. Eyes taking in the space, Jason puts on his detective hat. It's certainly messy, but he'd also just seen you come from this room. Either you're trying to pull something right now, or… he's not sure, yet, but he'll figure it out. He'll figure you out.

"I just know! She never leaves her room like this, and-" pushing at his chest when he doesn't move, you poke your head back in the hallway before ducking under his arm again and running to the dresser. Stashing your mother's jewelry box and perfume into your backpack, you turn and are about to head out of the room when you spot something. A framed photo on her desk of the two of you: it'd been a photo from your trip to Gotham. It was a Christmas present you'd gifted her that year since you didn't really have any photos up of the two of you in your house.

Frame in hand, you stare lovingly at the photo for a moment before a look of determination crosses your features again. Stuffing it in your backpack, you squeeze past Jason into the hallway. Your baby pictures, junior-high graduation photos, and other mementos hung on the wall are mostly untouched, yet at least two photos are askew on the wall. In the hallway bathroom, there's only your makeup bag and skincare that you can take. There are already bathing supplies at the Manor. "If you've ever met a Latina Mom, you'd know that she doesn't keep our house like this! Everything is square and perfect, put away. The only thing that was messy when I left was the kitchen and that was because of breakfast," you inform him. Unloading the backpack from your shoulder onto the couch, you properly zip it up before slugging it over your back again. "I'm ready." If someone really had been here, it's best not to stick around if they decide to come back.

------

While Jason had texted Bruce informing him of your whereabouts upon arrival, he couldn't bring himself to text anything else before the both of you arrived back at the Manor. You'd thanked the man you suppose is your older brother, before departing upstairs with Alfred. And while Bruce had made a move to talk to you, your dismissal was evident in your preference to the contrary. "We need to talk," Jason announces.

"Do you still have it?" Bruce asks, a look of concern upon his features. While both Jon and Clark had gone home soon after your departure, and both Timothy and Stephanie had gone out on patrol, Bruce kept Dick and Damian back. In the event they're all needed, they'll be there, but he'd wanted to have someone around while awaiting your return. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone right now, but he won't admit to that.

"Of course. I wasn't letting her keep that! God knows teenagers don't need guns," Jason grumbles. Reaching around himself, he lifts his shirt to dig the gun out of the back of his waistband.

"Hey! Speak for yourself. I can handle a gun," Damian argues, arms crossing his chest as he stands his ground. "I've been doing target practice since I was two."

"Anyway, she had… at least half a dozen in her arms when I caught her, but who knows how much she really has in her bag! She wouldn't let me touch it."

"So we're talking thousands, then?" Dick asks, hands in his pockets as he leans against the railing in the Batcave. "Shit," he whispers to himself. Hair falling into his face as he looks down at his shoes still processing all of this, his lips screwing in thought.

"At least! And that's not to mention that she insisted someone had 'visited' before us. I checked the locks, and, everything was sound. It was a mess, but, if anyone broke in, it had to be someone with a key. It didn't seem like anything had been taken," Jason expands.

"So what're we thinking? She was dealing?" Dick asks with a thoughtful expression on his features. He finally raises his gaze to meet the group's eyes.

"She has to know something," Damian accuses. Crossing his arms over his chest, the boy's eyebrows are set as he looks more than perturbed by all the information. He'd had a bad feeling about her from the get-go, but this is far beyond anything he had in mind. At least, aside from the really fantastical theories he'd concocted.

"There's no record of criminal history. I'll have to see if this is even registered, and if it's to her mother. I'll look into it," Bruce informs, taking the gun into his possession before walking over to the computer. "Until we find anything, we have to assume that it was a fluke. There was nothing unordinary about this, and I already told you that I don't want anyone digging into this!"

"Bruce, I-" Jason speaks up, a sympathetic feeling in his chest. He can only imagine how this situation has been affecting him. An unknown child suddenly dropped in his hands at the death of a previous lover? And now said child is showing distaste for you? Rough.

"What did I say, Jason?" Bruce barks.

"I only thought you'd want to know! I didn't do any digging, and I'm not going to. Got it? All I did was take a crying girl home, and help her grab some of the things she needs! God knows you wouldn't do it. Besides, she has a lot more that should be moved either into-"

"-storage or here. I know. I'm dealing with it! I told you I've got this covered. If you don't remember, I've been around this ballpark once or twice," Bruce chastizes. Placing the gun under a mirrored device, a red beam shoots out and scans the weapon. Blue eyes stuck to the computers, he reads over whatever report the device is producing.

With a huff of annoyance, Jason swipes his helmet off the nearby metal table and angrily slides it on. Walking away, he only turns back to leave them with one last note: "And for the record, I like her. She's a feisty little thing. Has got a lot more spunk than some of the others around here," he teases, eyes glaring at the two brothers still standing by the ledge murmuring to one another conspiratorily.

"So what's our plan?" Dick asks, ignoring the insults as he turns along with Damian to speak with Bruce.

All the money set up in nice little stacks against the wall underneath and toward the top of your bed, you'd placed your piggy bank on your dresser along with the photo of you and your Mom. Bear propped up to sit against the pillow you don't use, it elicits a faint smile. Jewelry box and perfume add a touch of femininity, and the rest of your items were put into your private bathroom. It's still hard to believe you have one, always having wanted one. It's not until you change into pajamas that you lie on the bed and unlock your phone, hoping to respond to some of the messages you've gotten in the past twenty-four hours.

Of course, your best friend Daisha is worried. Informing her of the situation, it doesn't take long to get back an astonished response. Granted, you'd been the same way yesterday, too. She asks what Wayne Manor is like, and how things are going. Soon, she realizes through text that you really only want to talk about the cool new things in the Manor, so you both revel over all the fancy features you've only found through exploration today. Who knows what else is in store? There's way too much to explore in just one day, and really, you hadn't done much exploring considering you had school and then cried almost all afternoon.

It's only when Daisha's gone to bed and you've been scrolling through memes for far longer than you should have that there are three knocks on your bedroom door. "Come in," you call, expecting Alfred to come in and tell you that you should be sleeping at this hour instead of being awake. He seems like the type to do so. After getting back, he'd informed you of everyone's worry and concern for you, only wanting the best. You'd talked for a while, but overall he eventually dismissed himself with the excuse of more work to be done tonight.

When the door slowly opens, you find it's Bruce juggling two teacups, and a dog at his heels. You know who it is after this afternoon. "Oh! No. Ace, stay out here," he asserts with a wobbly voice as his eyes stay glued to the unsteady teacups.

"It's okay," you assure. At this information, the door swings open wider and the dog pads over to you. Sitting by the edge of your bed, you reach out to pet him. "Hi Ace," you greet, hand brushing over his soft and short fur. "Did you come to check up on me?" You whisper to him with a gentleness that you're sure anyone observing would be baffled by considering he looks intimidating and scary.

"I wanted to talk, and before you say 'no' or tell me to 'get out', just know it's not to argue. I came to apologize," Bruce explains, seating himself at the edge of your bed a few feet from where you sit cross-legged. When you don't say anything, a sigh escapes him, and he holds out one teacup. "I thought you might like some tea before bed."

"How did you know I was awake? Or that I like tea?" You question, eyes shifting from his down to the fancy porcelain cup filled with a yellowish liquid. Taking it into your hands, you let yourself hold onto it, the comforting warmth seeping through the cup and into your palms.

"What happened?" Bruce immediately asks, concern evident in his voice as he notices your palm. "I saw the light from under the door and figured… plus who doesn't like a little chamomile before bed?" He attempts a smile, which you return with an inkling of one. At least he's not yelling at you for your outburst, you figure. "I wasn't sure how you take it, so I didn't put anything in it." It's only after a second that you realize he means milk and sugar.

Contemplating if you're really up for whatever you're sure this discussion will entail right now, it's only once you notice Ace walk in a circle before curling up and lying down that you concede. "I… fell and scraped my hand," you reveal. It's not entirely a lie, you just didn't mention the tree involved. "I just…" you're unsure how to explain why you did it, what came over you, "I'm sorry." His blue eyes stare back at you with a look you're unable to place. Suddenly, he's placing his teacup, then yours, onto the nightstand and enveloping you in a hug.

"You don't have to apologize." His voice rumbles deep in his chest and while you're taken aback at first, he doesn't let up. "I'm just glad you're okay," he says your name with a care that you hadn't realized was there before. Though the strength of his hug partially has you feeling like you'll die of asphyxiation, you bear it. It happens automatically, and despite your best efforts to keep it at bay, the tears come. "I should've talked to you sooner. I realize this is all a big change and I didn't even stop to think about how you'd feel in all this." While he talks you think he finally notices your shaking shoulders as his voice eventually dies down and he retracts from the hug. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I should've asked if you were okay with a hug, I just-"

"It's okay," you respond, voice coming out quieter than you'd anticipated, a shakiness you can't cloak within it. "I just… I didn't get to bring anything, and I didn't feel at home, and…" As your voice fades with your thoughts, he speaks up.

"-I know, and you deserve your things. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, we'll get. We can get some movers to help us get your things from the apartment if you want, either tomorrow or by the end of this week."

"I'm just embarrassed because I didn't mean to make a scene! I… no one deserved that, and-"

"-yes they did." His chuckle surprises you and leaves you taken aback as you stare up at him with incredulity. "I mean, maybe not the viciousness about the BPD and all, as Dick has been trying his best to be supportive, but him and Damian together? Well… they can be troublemakers, I'll say that much. Damian was being rude to you, it's only fair you express how you feel about it. He'll only listen that way, unfortunately. It's something we're working on."

"You're not mad at me?" You whisper, suddenly feeling like the little girl with pigtails in a dress your Mom picked out, crying and praying that you won't get a worse punishment for admitting your fault rather than playing dumb.

"Mad? No. Just… upset with myself, and disappointed that you didn't feel like you could've come to me sooner, and perhaps in a more private setting." The look on your face must say something, considering he continues. "Look, you're not the first kid to curse me out in front of everyone, and I'm sure you won't be the last. Okay? As long as you're okay and you feel welcome and at home here, that's all I care about. Alright?" A big hand on your shoulder, he stares into your eyes with a tacit question. When it seems he's got the answer he's looking for, his shoulders sag a bit and he seems to breathe a little more easily. "What did you even bring back? Can I see?"

Before you can respond, you find his eyes have landed on the photo album you left on the bed in front of your teddy bear. You'd wanted to look at it before going to bed, and it seems now is the best excuse to. "It's my photo album. I know my Mom has more, but, she gave me a bunch of the photos I liked in hers and let me make my own. Do… you want to look at it?" You ask tentatively. He nods, and you grab the album, shifting and taking it into your lap as you move the teddy bear into the middle of the pillows. With a pat beside you where both the album and teddy had been, he scoots backward further onto the bed until he's where you'd patted.

"I know that I haven't been a part of your life, and I know that it was your Mom's decision… and while none of us expected to wind up here, I hope I can--that you'll allow me--to be a part of your life going forward," again, your name falls from his lips. Leaning back against the plush pillows, you point to the lamp on the other bedside table.

"Could you turn that on?" You ask. Doing as you'd said, the second light helps brighten your little area in the grand room. "You're already a part of my life," you point out with a small smile on your face, "but I hope I can get to know you better. The real Bruce Wayne, not just… playboy billionaire Wayne Enterprises, Gotham's most loved celebrity." A teasing smile sits on your lips as amusement fills your chest. Bringing the album into your lap, you flip open the book.

"I hope so too," he agrees, before chuckling uncomfortably, a nervous hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "I don't know about that, but… the real me, I can definitely do." As the book opens, his attention suddenly shifts and he's more engaged, curiosity overtaking as he leans in and examines each photo with intent.

An explanation follows every picture you can remember the pretense of, which isn't too many in the beginning where all your baby photos are. Though as the photos become more and more recent you tell stories, finding that he's actually listening and asking questions, trying to get to know more about the little family you had. Eventually, you both retake your teacups and continue to look at the photos which now sit in the album atop the comforter before both of your laps. Backs hunched over, teacups delicately held in one hand, the other cupping the bottom of it, you two unintentionally mirror the other. The resemblance to an outsider is uncanny, there's no question to Bruce's fatherhood.

Once the album is gone through and you've shown him "Teddy" of course, the beloved bear you'd been gifted at birth. What a unique name, you know… but in your defense you were two when you named him. The Gotham Trip photo's story also told, you simply list the rest of the belongings you'd brought… omitting the cash, of course.

"It's getting late. You should get ready for bed. I decided that you deserve the rest of the week off school. It was too soon to push you into it, and if you're going to help me with the rest of the arrangements then you'll be a bit busy." A surprised, and then excited and appreciative look overtakes your expression, Bruce holding a smile on his lips.

"Thank you! Thank you! You don't know how much this means to me," you cry, hugging him for a moment before sitting back. "I mean… I'm not excited to have to do this… but," your voice takes on a quieter and more serious tone again, "I think it's important I do this. She's my mom, you know?"

"I know," he responds, lips pinched.

"I'll call the school first thing in the morning. But try and get some sleep, please. I know that it'll take some adjusting and getting used to, but I hope you can one day call this home, too," he admits. With another pat on the shoulder, the tall man stands from your bed and pulls the string on the farthest bedside lamp to shut it off. The sound of shuffling by the dresser signals Ace's rise as he trails after the man. "Goodnight."

"Okay, and I will! Goodnight." You're almost half-tempted to say his first name like the others, and while you'd previously been calling him 'Father'... 'Dad' still feels out of bounds for now… so you simply don't say anything.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @moonlightsolo , @jynzandtonic , @ohdamnadam

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

#my writing #hog #heiress of gotham #heiress of gotham series #dad!bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batfam x reader #batfam x sister!reader #my series #dcu reader insert #batfam reader insert #i love queue #dc comics reader insert #dc comics fanfiction #jason todd x sister!reader

265 notes · View notes