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starry-bi-sky · 8 months

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(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #sam is one protective gal. this scene went differently in my head. way differently. but alas. i am not complaining.#sam: if bruce wayne abandoned my best friend i'm gonna physically transform myself into a dragon and incinerate him. how dare he.#bruce and damian got to watch in real time as a random girl who knows danny suddenly realizes he's related to them. which is comical to me #because she suddenly goes from being disinterested but weirded out by damian. to suddenly looking at bruce like she's gonna kill him #which is very funny to me bc from their pov at first its like this random girl just speedran hating bruce. and then her parents bring up he #friend danny and then she calls him danyal. and suddenly its starting to click into place like 'oh fuck wait we may just have a lead on --#-- finding danyal and his whereabouts.' especially after sam's mom mentions the scar on his face. like wow. what a crazy ten minutes.#not seen but def happened: sam gets her phone out to go text danny in the corner. she's not gonna bring up the bruce thing yet. she needs #a pick me up. related note: danny and tucker know she's gone to some gala thing with her parents but not to a wayne gala. if danny had know #he may have told her that he was related to damian wayne. just to prepare her for that. not so sure on the writing in this one folks #but i also dont wanna go through and edit anything its like half past one in the morning and i also dont wanna wait until morning to post #when i can just do it now. and get instant serotonin. i thought of this scene in various ways. like sam calling damian 'danny' out of shock #and then quickly correcting herself. and then excusing herself very quickly. or her mentioning that damian resembles her friend danny a lot #so she was just thrown off by him. because i def think that could happen if sam has no reason to think that she needs to hide danny from th #waynes. i also thought about her parents mentioning that damian resembles danny a little bit. only for one of them to go 'oh no no couldn't #- be. how insulting to damian since the daniel they know has this horrid scar on his face.' and then go from there. either way i thought #a scene like this would be fun. get to also kinda explore how danny looks like from his friends' povs. of which he is #'our lovable jerk who is an ex-cult member and whom we will maim someone over.'#not a scene that was added but i wanted to: sam mentioning in parenthesis that she and tucker think danny was part of a cult prior to the #fentons. and that sometimes danny will say something alarming and sam and tucker will stare at him until he frowns and goes #“that... isn't normal. is it?” and tucker will clap his shoulder and cheerfully go “no buddy. no it isn't” bc i think the idea is funny.#sam is so focused on the idea that bruce abandoned/ignored/was unaware of danny's existence that she momentarily forgot that bruce may have

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itsmistyeyedbi · 2 months

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the man in the mirror, the woman in the mask

Pairing: F!Detective and Rebecca Word Count: 5,1k Warnings: Angst, slightly suggestive comments and hints at child neglect. Tags: @agentnatesewell, I probably should've asked in anyone wants to be tagged but hey. Let me know if you want to be in future though! Authors Note: This is basically Zuri's stream of consciousness throughout her morning in the office. About herself and her parents, but it mostly explores her relationship with Rebecca. This takes place in book 3. Also on a03!

She’s like her father. She knows she is. Everyone who knew him made sure to point it out and with him being the former detective of Wayhaven, damn near every resident of this tiny town did.

The colour of her eyes, the shape of her brows, the curve of her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. The warm undertone of her dark brown skin, the small mole on her jaw and the even smaller beauty marks sprinkled on her face and body - one of them sits on her bottom lip.

Your smile lights up the room, you know? As much as your fathers did.

It does. It shines so bright that her mother couldn't bear it. She would wince and look away, turn her head, try not to be blinded by it. By the memories. A young Zuri decided to put a hand to her mouth whenever a smile made its way onto her face or her laughter filled the air, covering the mark and dimming the light that pained her. It seemed to help. She wouldn't look away anymore. But she didn’t stay long enough for her to see if it made her any less sad.

Her appearance isn't where the resemblance stops. Some things were harder to spare Rebecca from.

That's so sweet of you. Though I really shouldn’t be surprised, you are your father’s daughter.

I should’ve expected Rook’s baby girl to be as persuasive as he is.

You have some of his personality too. He could charm anyone into doing anything he needed.

She was a daddy’s girl from the moment she set eyes on him. At least, that was what Rebecca told her - a million years ago when she had to convince her daughter to put on a bonnet before bed. Back when they would all sit around the table after the sun rose for however long they could, eating whatever Rook cooked up for breakfast before having to spend hours away from each other. Work. School. Morning or evening practice for gymnastics.

The comparisons were something Zuri has grown used to. Something she was almost proud of. Despite her time with him being short, that's still so much of him in her. But sometimes…sometimes his shadow would loom so large that it became all anyone ever saw.

The pieces of him in her.

Even Zuri herself did. Every once in a while she'd find herself following in his footsteps, trying to make her feet fit into the prints of his own and feeling a little part of her grimace when they didn't. And if she strayed too far, that little part of her would crush her with guilt and shame. She's his daughter. She should be as good as him, kind and generous and honest.

Until she remembers that that isn't all she is.

No one is immune to the effects of the marks he left behind.

But he wasn’t the only parent she had.

Has.

Whether she likes it or not, Rebecca is her mother. Even if it’s just by blood now. It's the bare minimum. But she's her mother nonetheless.

Somehow she managed to leave her marks too, and she isn't immune to them either.

This man is shameless in the most obvious way possible. Oblivious too.

He had to have seen the change in her body language, the way she painted a pretty smile on her face as if his presence was a pleasant surprise rather than an inconvenience. Is Mayor Friedman really so arrogant to think Rebecca enjoys his company? She doesn't spend enough time with anyone to remember what it's like to enjoy company.

Not anyone outside of the Agency anyway.

Zuri looks on as they exchange air kisses and-

God, did he just try to give her a hug? A kiss!?

She glances to her left and meets Captain Sung’s eyes. He looks like a soldier with how stiff his stance is and the stony expression on his face. But there’s a dead giveaway to his discomfort, to her anyway. The slight downturn of his lips. How much closer his eyebrows have knit together.

He has the courtesy to try not to look disturbed by the mayor’s eagerness to see her mother. Zuri doesn't. His focus is solely on Rebecca, so she's going to shudder and gag to her heart's content. Hopefully it distracts her from the tension that built up in her shoulders when Rebecca entered the station.

Her dramatics earn her a glare from the Captain as if he wants to scold her, and maybe part of him does, but the amusement in his eyes say otherwise. With a brow raised, she tilts her head and gives him a knowing smile - because can he really blame her? He's being a creep, at best. There's no way he doesn't want to cringe as much as she is right now.

They turn their attention to the scene playing out in front of them just in time to watch Rebecca steer her way out of that sad attempt at affection. She does it like a woman who's had to do it for years - effortlessly. Not that it's an experience unique to her, she doesn't know a woman who hasn't had to deal with overly familiar men. But it looks like she has had to deal with it from him specifically.

She pulls off looking oblivious to his sad attempt at…extending that greeting, and makes her way over to her audience. The Mayor, well, he's tugging at his jacket, running a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. Flustered, maybe even embarrassed while composing himself.

At least he's taking the rejection well.

But he doesn't know that it was a rejection.

Nevermind. Not surprising at all.

Rebecca stops in front of them with the professional demeanour she usually has, the sparkling eyes and bright smile has been tempered into a more pragmatic expression. Zuri’s had changed just as quickly, schooling her features into something more neutral the moment her mother looked in their direction.

“It's been some time, Captain,” her tone is nowhere near as enthusiastic as they shake hands.

“It has,” his response isn't either, but it rarely ever is.

This interaction is weird to watch too. Such short and monotone responses. She knows they don't talk much, but damn. They aren't strangers greeting each other before a business meeting.

The Captain and Rook were close. She saw it whenever he had to work on a weekend - something that seemed absurd to her back then - and he let her tag along. Mostly because of her puppy dog eyes and the vice grip she had on his legs. She remembered the laughter they shared, the jokes that didn't seem all that funny to her when she abandoned the book she was reading to listen in on their conversations. The back pats, the hands on the other's shoulders, the hugs the Captain bashfully accepted but never returned. At some point, Rebecca walked in and joined in their banter before doing what she intended to do when she arrived - drag her daughter back home.

Why the distance now? Was Rook their only tether to each other? Was Rebecca actually as closed off then as she is now?

Is it because he just watched his late friend’s widowed wife flirt with the Mayor - a married man?

That's a fair reason for this to be awkward, but that's more the mayor’s fault than hers.

“What brings you here?”

Ugh, he's talking again. The three of them look at him and-

What the hell is he doing?

He really doesn't know when to quit, does he? He's now leaning against the front desk with his elbow on its surface and his head in his hand. And that smile of his is far past friendly. He might as well find something to recline on and ask her to paint him wearing only-

Ew, nonono. She shouldn't taint her brain or The Titanic by conjuring up that image. But still…

The person manning that very desk, a volunteer, is staring at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows, mouth agape. Then they proceed to slowly slide away from him.

A snicker makes its way past her lips.

All their eyes lock onto her but her hand is already in front of her mouth. She splutters and coughs to mask the laughter that threatens to expose her - shit, don't make eye contact - then clears her throat.

“Excuse me, I just choked a little,” on the sheer audacity Mayor Friedman had and the poor volunteer who is still eying him. But they don't need to know that. Her eyes briefly meet Rebecca's and she reduces her urge to laugh into a small smirk before lightly swatting at the air. “But do tell.”

She could guess why she's here. Some new mission she needs to know about, a supernatural that's being too obvious about their powers. Whatever it is, it's nowhere near as interesting as witnessing the effect she has on this guy. He unironically tried to display himself on the front desk and didn't spare a thought for who was there.

At least Douglas isn't here to see this. He wouldn't have even acknowledged him if he was.

Her amusement fades away and she almost frowns, but catches herself. It's probably best for her to focus on Rebecca for now.

Speaking of, her eyes are still trained on her. She gestures towards her with a manicured hand as if her stare isn’t answer enough. Maybe it isn't for her not so secret admirer.

“I came to see Zuri.”

“Oh,” he's visibly deflating, shoulders slumping and all, wow.

“Aren't I popular today,” she sighs with a wry smile. It's tinged with exasperation.

She's functioning on a few hours of sleep, with no one to curl up to in bed with but anxiety after the late night diplomatic mission went south. Finding out the reason it did wasn't helpful either: she has a bounty on her head. Something she spent the entire night trying not to think about. But her day job doesn't know or care about that. In the first few minutes of getting to work she had to deflect Verda from his concern for her (with Tina’s help, because she was apparently too out of it to tell a convincing white lie) and mediate an argument between two grown men who can't tolerate each other enough to make decisions without puffing their chests and yelling. Over a simple blood drive.

In another life, she would happily donate. But her blood is a hot commodity now and needles…

A chill runs down her spine, her hand wrapping around her right wrist before her brain can register the action. The deep breath she takes is much more intentional.

That's not happening-

“I guess I was just fortunate enough to arrive while you were here, Mayor,” Rebecca laughs, something as close to a giggle as she might allow herself to do, and it's like a melody being played on a piano. Easy on the ears, enchanting…but practiced. The cadence consistent, perfect.

Fake.

She's a good actor. She can wear whatever face is needed to guide an interaction to wherever she wants it to go. She is the tide and everyone else is a little boat bobbing along, blissfully unaware of the ride they are on. The direction they're going in.

Zuri crosses her arms, her fingers twitching when she stops herself from digging them into her arm. She doesn't have much room to judge.

You could make this so much easier for me, Zee.

Fine, I’ll bite. How exactly could I do that? I’m just a name and a face she hears about.

Exactly. She has her guard up with me and it’s making her overreact. But she doesn’t know you, how reliable a friend you are.

So you want me to befriend her just to get into this alleged club of hers? What if it’s not as interesting as you think it is?

I don’t think it, I know it. All you need to do is be your charming self and we’re golden. You’re almost as irresistible as I am.

Very funny…but fine.

You’re an angel.

She's a good actor too.

Rebecca says her farewells with a gentle wave before leading her back to her office. Doing what she intended to do when she arrived. The click-clack of their heels on the tile floor are in sync, only accompanied by the mayor’s overzealous reply and the grimace she spies on Captain’s face.

She would’ve done the same if it weren't for the window in front of her; in it's reflection, she could see how similar the build of their bodies are. Their height, the length of their legs, the way their blazers sit on their shoulders. And despite the difference in their hairstyles - Rebecca with her cornrows tied into a low bun with a hair tie, Zuri with her twists tied into a high ponytail with a headwrap - they both had to care for the same thick, deep brown hair.

It's nothing she didn't already know, but the reminder never fails to be jarring.

She is her mother’s daughter.

“That was…interesting to watch.”

“What was?”

Zuri leans against the front of her desk with a smirk and raised brow. She might be able to play dumb with people like the mayor, but come on. She can't expect her to not ask about her little performance out there.

But she isn't going to spell it out for her. She jerks her head in his direction, watching him through the glass that gives them a view of the station as he leaves. That's as much as she's willing to elaborate.

“Oh,” Rebecca sighs, and Zuri can't tell if it's because it happened or because she asked. Her voice is tinged with disdain when she decides to give her an actual response. “It's part of my job to establish and maintain a good relationship with those who are in charge of this town. Staying in Mayor Friedman's good graces allows us access to many things that would be denied otherwise.”

“I never would’ve guessed that those methods would get the Agency's stamp of approval. I thought they'd go for something closer to their,” she wiggles her fingers in the air, “meetings and treaties.”

“The Agency doesn't directly involve themselves in these matters and prefer to have this done through their agents. They don't specify how we should keep people like the mayor on our side, just that we get the job done.”

She's making it less personal, addressing her as if she asked about agents in general and not about her. Funny.

Zuri tilts her head and watches her mother with feigned curiosity. “So do you flirt with everyone who has some kind of power in Wayhaven, or just him?”

An eyebrow twitches, but that's the only sign that she pressed a button somewhere. That, and the way Rebecca shifts her weight to adjust how she's resting against the chair she drifted to when they entered her office. “I do what gets the job done.”

“Hm,” she turns her head, taking interest in the pot plants sitting on she shelf against the wall-

Pfft. Not really. She's more focused on pressing her lips together, trying not to grin in her face.

Rebecca hasn't moved an inch since they started talking. After slipping off her blazer and draping it across the chair she's assigned herself to, she's been as cool and calm as ever. As if this - her visiting and them chatting- is the norm for them. As if anything about their relationship could be considered normal. It hasn't been anywhere close, not after Rook died.

That and their similarities, that damned reflection she saw, makes her feel…wrong. In her mind, in her body, in the feelings she has whenever her mother is around. Her bones feel like they're out of place. She wants to roll her shoulders and wrists, crack her knuckles, massage her neck, as if that would fix it. Rid her of the unease creeping along her skin.

It isn't going to. But she doesn't want to linger on why she feels this way, not now. Too much has happened already, she doesn't want to deal with Rebecca’s lacklustre attempt at comfort too.

There isn't much else to do but poke the bear. Just a little. Just enough to see how long she can keep up this stoicism. If she can affect her in the same way.

“Well, you certainly have the mayor wrapped around your finger. Nice dodge, by the way. Very smooth.” She chuckles, and it gets a little louder when she receives a deadpan look on her face. Zuri turns and opts to lean on the desk with the palms of her hands. “But the fact that he thought he could get a hug out of you tells me he's looking to get access to some things too.”

“Yes,” she sighs, and - aha - there's a crack in her mask for a split second when her lips curl into a subtle snarling frown. “Letting him think that that's a possibility grants us a lot of leeway.”

“Oh, I'm sure he's hoping you'll be just as…flexible.”

“Aht aht!”

Zuri burst into laughter, a hand in front of her mouth as she cackles and keels over. When was the last time she's heard her do that? She really got to her enough to bring out the Nigerian mother in her.

Rebecca crosses her arms and sucks her teeth before inhaling deeply, as if she's trying to be all stoic again.

“That's tactless, Zuri.”

“You're the one flirting to gain ‘access’, not me,” her laughter tapers off into an airy giggle as she moves to sit down behind the desk. With a long exhale, she crosses her legs and gently swivels the office chair left and right with a playful shrug. Maybe it's wrong to find some kind of amusement and relief in getting under her skin, but she rarely ever shows emotion.

The last time she saw Rebecca have range in her emotions and actually express them was when her father was still in their lives. Everything changed. She didn't expect things to be the same, there would always be a gaping hole in their family, but nothing could reach her beyond the grief she has been drowning in. The work she buries herself in. The mask she wore day in, day out.

This is the first time in years that she's caught a glimpse of the mom she had. The woman she was. The one that died with her husband.

Her heart is squirming in her chest, with yearning and bitterness and wistfulness. Maybe she missed that. Missed her. Moments like this felt more…real. Better than the moments they have when she's in a hospital bed in the facility or preparing for a mission. It's easy for her to care - and to show it - when she's close to death or danger. But what about the person she is day to day? The person beyond that?

Beyond an echo of the past and the fear of history repeating itself?

…Would she even like that person?

Would he? If he was still here?

Zuri glances away from Rebecca and leans forward to turn on the desktop. She can feel her gaze burning into her as she types in the password and she couldn't help the way her eyes flickered between her mother and the screen. That gaze burned, then simmered, then softened into something warm in seconds. She could never stay mad at her for long, though she would easily outlast Rook. This seems different though.

The warmth within her light brown eyes was holding something else as well. The same wistfulness she was feeling. That, and a spark of hope.

It gives her pause.

Did she actually get under her skin or did she decide to play along? For the two of them to act out the mother-daughter relationship they don't have?

…Whatever gets the job done she said.

Her other performance was much more entertaining. But uncomfortable too considering the territory it's heading towards.

Zuri can't say she's never thought that though. She did, and acted on it more times than she can count. Back when her days were spent balancing partying, getting a degree… and pleasing Bobby. Being his angel, swooping in when he needed her and doing whatever she could to help him get his next scoop. Whatever got the job done.

But at some point, it caught up to her. It always does. People are more than what they have or what they keep secret. Manipulation, lies, gaslighting… anything of the sort are weapons as sharp as a knife, play with it too much and you yourself will be cut. But the cuts she has are nothing compared to the scars she left in her wake. The people who were in her life - from the ones she cared about to the strangers who believed they were friends and were nothing but kind to her - couldn’t look her in the eye anymore. Some of them hoped they never would.

The consequences of her actions resulted in a fractured reputation and loneliness; and that was just University. Rebecca’s playing in an entirely different league, and the stakes are…

Something in her stomach twists.

Okay, enough. She's a grown woman. This isn't her first rodeo. She'll be fine.

“That isn’t what I came here to discuss.”

“I figured. I won't take up anymore of your time with that.” Zuri frowns. The password is still staring back at her. Whatever this is is distracting her and not addressing it isn't working. “But it's…”

She meets her eye for a second before fixing her gaze onto the screen. “Just be careful. Jokes aside, games like that can be dangerous.”

“You're worried about me?”

She looks up again and what was supposed to be a quick scan of her mother’s face turns into a lingering gaze. The question hangs in the air. It was asked softly, as if her breath was stolen from her lungs, with her eyes wide and mouth agape.

Is she worried?

Zuri’s eyes go back to the desktop, the screen dark from inactivity. Great, she has to type in the password again. And she does, leaving the question at just that.

“You don't have to be,” there's fondness in Rebecca’s voice that makes her fingers slip past the required letters on the keyboard. “The mayor’s not even on the board, let alone playing in the same league as I am.”

She hears her smile before she sees it. Zuri swallows and nods and finally gets the password right. It's silly, really. She should be more worried about why she's here; that's more concerning than anything.

“So, why the sudden appearance?”

Rebecca decides to sit on the chair now instead of leaning against it, and crosses her legs. She's getting comfortable for someone who won't be here long.

“I merely came to check on you.”

She opens an email, does not look up from the screen. “Why?”

“Because no matter how you feel about me, I care about you.”

“Hm.”

“I do.” There's more conviction in her words now and concern that almost sounds frantic, like she has something to prove. Zuri supposes she does.

“Very much so,” she continues. “And you're having to handle more than most people could manage: your job here at the station, being a liaison for the Agency, the life you have outside of work… how are you coping with it all?”

“Oh, you know. Coping.”

“I'm sure it's been a great comfort to have support from others.”

Zuri almost raises a brow in apprehension. Something about the way she said that feels like she's looking to confirm something. Like she knows something…

It can't be about Tina, can it? She might be eager to find out about the supernatural world but she wouldn't blab about something this important. She knows how to keep a secret.

She looks up at her, keeping her eyes trained on her as she nods, “Yeah, having Unit Bravo around has been really helpful. Especially with it feeling like I'm part of the team.”

“Yes,” the word is drawn out and Rebecca’s focus shifts to the window, where there's a clear view of Tina working at her desk. “I'm sure Unit Bravo has been supporting you as well.”

Shit.

Zuri frowns and leans back in her seat, putting an elbow on the armrest and holding her head up with her thumb, index and middle finger. “So that's why you're here. Great. Can we discuss that later? I have work to do and I'm sure you do too.”

“I'm not here to reprimand you. That's something that isn't important right now.”

“Okay, is this supposed to be a check up then?”

Rebecca tenses before frowning and shifting in her seat. “I'm not here to check up on you, but to check on you. To see if there's anything I can do to help you.”

Silence. She doesn't know what to say to that, so she just looks at her. She's wringing her hands together - another similarity they have, except Zuri tries to hide it when she has company. It's easy when she's in company she doesn't trust or care for, but when she does? Not so much.

“I am trying…I want to be better at this,” she almost sounds timid. But she can't bring herself to take it any easier than her. There's still that feeling of wrongness in her skin. She's tired and agitated and the memories of the past aren't helping.

“At this?”

“At us.”

She really doesn't want to do this. Not now.

“I know things have always been tense between us,” she continues, and the first thought that comes to mind is that she's wrong. It hasn't. And it wouldn't be if she was there. “But I want to be one of the people you can turn to for comfort too, to be someone to support you throughout all of this.”

She wishes she wouldn't do this. She can't right now, she can't-

It's too much. Her chest is heavy with an amalgamation of emotions; longing, sorrow, anger, whatever else she's feeling is something she can't pinpoint and name.

This is what it takes? Forced proximity through the Agency and danger at every turn, that's what she needed to want to support her? This is the most she's seen of her mother in almost two decades, and it's only happening because the Agency was surprised that she didn't die after dealing with Murphy and her blood makes her opium to every supernatural walking the planet.

Yes, working for the Agency can be consuming. She knows that now. But Rebecca's been doing this for longer than she has and managed to balance it well enough when Rook was here. And Zuri, despite everything she has gone through, hasn't neglected her relationship or vanished from their lives.

Which means she chose this. She was capable of being there for her, of being her mom, and she chose not to. She chose her work and her grief over her daughter. But now that they see each other so often, it's more convenient for her to be her mother rather than a stranger she occasionally talks to over the phone.

Rebecca is slouching in her chair, still wringing her hands with worry and hope tugging on her features. Zuri holds her gaze for as long as she can before shaking her head and putting her face in her hands.

The way she's looking at her…she needed that before all this. When it wasn't easy or convenient. When it meant facing the pain she has to be there for her daughter after she lost her dad or holding her hand when she destroyed almost every relationship she had and the loneliness settled in.

Don't cry don't cry don't cry-

She took a deep breath, then another and another until her eyes no longer stung and the lump in her throat shrank. The ache in her heart eases, her mind goes quiet.

She doesn't need this. Not now. Not anymore.

“I can't think about this right now.”

“Why not?”

Zuri thinks back to every missed phone call, every birthday and holiday and anniversary that she wasn't there for. And the main excuse she would get when she did manage to reach her, when she lit up at the sound of her voice.

I'm sorry, Zuri. Things have been so busy, I just…don't have the time for it right now. But I'll make it up to you another time. I promise.

She only ever fulfilled a promise once. The hundreds of others fell to the wayside.

“There's too much going on. Like you said, I'm dealing with more than most people could manage,” she leans forward and rests her elbows on the desk, clasping her hands together before meeting her gaze. Her eyes and voice are hollow when she continues. “I don't have the time or energy for this right now.”

Rebecca stiffens and gives a small nod, pressing her lips together and staring at a spot on the wall behind her.

“...Another time maybe,” she eventually responds, her voice quiet but thick with disappointment, with a hope that's been squashed.

“Mhm.”

She gets up and the disappointment is more obvious now; her posture lacks the professionalism and confidence she usually has. She looks smaller, her body having folded into itself. She grabs her blazer, slips it on and just like that, the mask falls into place. Back straight, shoulders relaxed, hands clasped in front of her. The only evidence of their conversation is in her eyes. Emotions are at home in the eyes, they're always difficult to control.

“If you need me, I'm just a phone call away.”

“Are you?”

Palpable silence. The air is heavy with tension. Rebecca is the one to fill it, but even then it's softly, as if she's trying not to break it - doesn't have the right to.

“I will be.”

The ‘I promise’ is absent, but implied. Maybe she thinks it's better not to say it out loud, maybe she remembers how many of them she has broken.

Zuri shifts her focus to the desktop, moving the mouse so the screen lights up again. The click clack of heels and the office doors opening and closing is all she needs to know that she left. She finally allows herself to let out a long sigh, feeling lighter already.

There's a bitter satisfaction in throwing the words she heard for years back at her. It's not unwarranted. She's busy. Now isn't the time to deal with their issues.

But she isn't sure there ever will be.

She is her mother’s daughter, after all.

#my writing #twc #twc fanfic #twc detective #twc rebecca #twc book 3 #i'm gonna make sure to be proud of myself for this because damn #thats a lot of words #rebecca and zuri will never not be interesting to me #her feelings about her are very complicated #and this is just the start of book 3!#she hasn't heard about the chamber yet so hasn't figured out that rebecca was part of it #hasn't heard her say that she didn't know how to raise her #and - lore specific to zuri - she doesn't know that rebecca isn't her mom's first name lmaoooo #she gets weirded out by their similarities and almost doesn't want them to be there #but they're both using their middle names instead of their first

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