#baticorn writes

[baticorngirl]

Title: Stares, Gazes, and Peers

Rating: K+/PG Fandom: Batman/DC Relationship(s): Bruce Wayne/Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent, (Minor) Bruce Wayne & Diana Prince, Justice League & Bruce Wayne, General Justice League Friendships, Brief mention of past Bruce Wayne/Diana Prince, Characters: Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul, Clark Kent, Diana Prince, Arthur Curry, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnzz, Oliver Queen, (Minor) Dinah Lance,

Summary:

In an alternate earth where Ra's and Bruce's allyship (as appearing in Batman: Son of the Demon) works out, Bruce is currently at a Justice League meeting. Everything is normal enough, until, of course, he gets invited to their Justice League Valentine's Day Event, or the "Double Double Date" as Clark likes to playfully call it. When speaking about it, Bruce accidentally slips up and mentions being married. Now, his friends (who he'd avoiding this conversation with for so long) are making a huge deal about it, until in the end he has no choice but to give in and attend the Dinner so they can meet Talia and possibly forgive him for keeping the information from them for so long.

Maybe he can get through this without any hiccups or information-spills, he tried to reassure himself before the event. But god was he wrong.

(For @brutalia-week Day 1: Justice League Finds out)

A/N:

12:54 AM on Day 2.... basically still Day 1, right? Timezones exist haha.

In my defense, I had to spend a ton of today just finishing the writing for it (look, I wasn't accounting for it to be this long, okay?) and then I definitely wasn't expecting the editing and summary-writing to take so many hours, either. Anyway, I shouldn't write much here even though I wanna give a ton of unnecessary disclaimers, but I have no time! I would like to mention, though, that it's definitely less thoroughly edited than ideal because of I was trying to get it in before midnight so, sorry for that.

I tried. It's 36k words. I'm overwhelmed. Help. I have no fics for any of the other days because I spent so long on this. I'm screwed in every possible way.

Anyway, enjoy!

-----------------------------------------

Everyone was looking at Bruce.

Not just peering slightly, but outright staring. It couldn't have been more than two minutes since the Justice League meeting started, yet at least ten other members already had their eyes glued to him. Granted, they always seemed to look at him a bit funnier than everyone else. But they were used to those odd behaviors at this point. This time, however, the expressions were not quite weird out— simply puzzled.

Funnily enough, Bruce was quite confident he was acting much, much more 'normal' than he even usually did. He acted like them, almost. When people got side-tracked by anecdotes about their families and whatnot, instead of lecturing on focus during meetings, he kept to himself. They should've been happy.

But instead, they stared. He was just about ready to go straight back to the scolding if they kept this up.

As Bruce huffed at the main lookers, he heard his name loudly called to by a fellow Justice League member, and with almost uncomfortably-perfect posture, his head popped up at the first syllable. His eyes immediately clicked on to the person responsible, watching them give their contrastingly-casual instructions.

Clark vaguely gestured a finger towards him. "Batman over here missed our last meeting, so he's going to be giving slightly longer updates than the rest of us. We also need to make sure that he's caught up, so would anyone like to show him our notes from the meeting he missed after this?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure I can find them on my own." Bruce swiftly replied, waving his hand to the side in a declining gesture.

"We know, Bruce. You're not incompetent, you work best alone, you're way too stubborn to let anyone help you…." Barry rolled his eyes. Even if he refrained from speaking it, Bruce could see him mouthing "blah"s to himself. "I hope you realize it actually wouldn't be a problem if you weren't constantly grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy," Bruce stated, "I'm simply, as you said, competent."

"Sure you aren't," Barry rolled his eyes again. Bruce crossed his arms in return, but neglected to answer the petty sarcasm. In the long run, he really didn't care in the slightest how grumpy Barry thought of him. He also didn't care that the rest of the Justice League, with their staring in mind, had likely sided with Barry in their minds.

Regardless, Diana was quick to attempt to cut off the argument before it started. She leapt up from her seat with her arms planted firmly on her hips, and pointed very directly at Bruce, as if waving words right out of him with her fingers. As she made the odd gesture, she spoke quickly.

"Come on, Batman. How are things going with Gotham? It's been a while since we've heard. Have you had any new full villain-takeovers lately? If so, how many and who was the culprit?" She questioned. But her questions were packed together so tightly that even as he opened his mouth to answer, Bruce didn't have a mere second. "If not, has Gotham's crime rate been getting any better?"

Gotham. The city he'd only stopped by once in the last three weeks. Bruce gulped. He could feel stutters itch at his throat, nearly coming out in chaotic little sounds, but he forced them down. What he couldn't control, however, was his face— which was unfortunately turning bright red right in front of his team mates.

"Oh, Gotham's…. Fine." He answered.

"Can you elaborate on that?" Diana's eyebrows furrowed. In fact, several other members gave him just as puzzled looks. She was still standing, and even scooted her chair backwards slightly with the back of her foot. "I asked you a lot of questions, and I don't recall any of them being whether Gotham is 'fine'. I mean, Gotham's obviously not 'fine'. It's never fine. Don't lie to us, Batman. We're not trying to start small talk over here."

It felt as if the staring, which was already very persistent, had gotten a million times worse. As if that weren't bad enough, with each growing moment of silence, everyone's eyes got wider, as well. Returning the uncomfortable eye contact, Bruce glared back at all the wide eyes on his back.

"I'm aware," Bruce nodded along slowly, "You're right, Gotham's not fine, exactly. But, for Gotham, it's doing fairly average. It's…. Not getting that much worse, I believe? As I already said, it's doing fine."

He was frantically trying to think back to his one visit back, even if he was also frantically trying to hide that fact. But with a hundred millions eyes continuing to stare, it was very hard to hide. So, with the feeling of everyone knowing of his fibs, he started to get defensive. His head cocked back and forth in aggravated agitation.

"Are you sure you don't have anything more to add?" Diana asked, still clearly very skeptical of the entire ordeal. "That's still incredibly vague. Especially considering this isn't just for one meeting, but making up for two ones. I'd expect it to be quite detailed…. Well, knowing you, at least."

Bruce nodded again and again to each of her words, "That update was fine."

Slowly, and still extremely uncertain, Diana tugged her chair into place and sat back down on it. Batman breathed a harsh sigh of relief, glancing downward as he did so. He hardly even noticed as they moved to the next person, and he was hardly listening to what that person was saying, either.

The next person was Aquaman, who had quite the endearing story to tell along with his update. It wasn't particularly important. It was quite unimportant, even, but most of them seemed quite captured by his descriptions of it nonetheless. Most of the time, this was yet another thing Bruce would've tried to hurry them through, but right now, he simply let the relief from his last turn wash over his body until he was relaxed. Relaxed for him, at least.

In fact, once he had gone back to listening normally, Bruce's own eyes were just as deeply fixated on Arthur.

"...So then the fish got back to the school it was with before, but the dolphin was still all alone. You'll never guess what happened next, though. We see this kind of little splash in the water, and then there's a bit of a figure in the distance. Except guess what?" Several of their heads bobbed up and down, signaling for him to continue the story. Many were grinning, but none as much as Arthur himself.

Bruce didn't bob his own head around, as he was still figuring out exactly what was going on, but this picture of such a small, sweet baby dolphin was forming in his mind. It was something that they needed to be sophisticated to handle, yet it made Bruce feel a burst of unnecessary warmth. It was a good feeling, he reluctantly admitted to himself, albeit a technically unhelpful one. At least they weren't on any kind of important, life-threatening missions at the moment, so with that in mind, he let the emotional thought stay strong in his mind. Now, as it lingered, he slowly started picturing him and Talia's future baby instead. With this thought getting bigger and bigger in his head, he let a slight smile peak out.

Everyone should've been too focused on the story to notice. Yet, judging by the array of cocked eyebrows, squinting and even shaking heads, they most certainly were not.

Arthur continued his story without so much as a pause, though, "That figure was really, really near dolphin shape. We headed in that direction to check out the scene, and we found another dolphin. This definitely wasn't her mother, but they were communicating quite positively, and as I investigated closer, I pretty quickly discovered that this other dolphin was going way out of his way to help the baby! Isn't that endearing?"

Everyone nodded profusely. Several others were smiling much more obviously than Bruce. He also noticed that, unlike him, nobody was staring at their expression at all. Finally getting rid of the smile, he frowned.

"It really just goes to show why we're doing so much to protect the world from threats. We need to protect not just that innocent baby, but the kind yet less powerful helpers, too. We need to protect that good in the world, if you get what I'm saying." Arthur explained. His smile had faded slightly at the end of his story, but he was certainly still happy. Just perhaps in a quieter, more serious way.

"Oh, exactly," Black Canary agreed. She was on the other side of Aquaman, but had her chair turned to face him fully due to the interesting tale.

"There's so much good in not just dolphins, but mankind, as well. Man's world is flawed, of course it is, but…. Now that I've lived here for so long, I truly understand how much more there is to it than that. How much everyone is so willing to assist, for one." Diana added. She was leaning into the table, as was Dinah, in pure intrigue.

"Definitely," Aquaman nodded, "Anyhow, with the help of that other dolphin, we managed to find another one. I didn't recognize this one either, but with a bit more communication, it turned out this dolphin wasn't her mother, but her father! The point is, they got reunited and I'm quite certain that the baby's doing well now, safe with both her parents."

Bruce still had his own unborn child on his mind, quite strongly. His imagination wasn't making thoughts of dolphins at all at this point, but was simply clustered with thoughts of the cutest baby possible. This baby, just like the story he was hearing, was safely returned to the arms of its loving father— him.

He was smiling about it again. Not just subtly either. This time, the smile was wide, and gradually grew wider by the second.

So wide, in fact, that he hardly even noticed all of those crooked looks popping back on his teammate's faces. At the very least, he certainly didn't care what they thought of it. For, with this smile still showing clearly on the lower half of his face, and his body filled with excitement, he responded to the story.

"That's the sweetest story in existence," he commented. "Has anything else like that happened lately? You should share more of those baby animal stories."

It just came out. Like a wild river, the words uncontrollably gushed from his mouth.

He tried to get their stares away, he tried to get his smile to hide, and he tried to correct himself. Focusing on his face muscles, he pushed the corners of his lips downwards abruptly, but the movement was uncomfortable. Therefore, he blushed. Needless to say, that was not about to help his situation. He pushed himself to the back of his chair, as if hiding from embarrassment.

Which, yet again, did not help.

Instead, he decided to fix it verbally, "—But not during our important meetings. Keep them in mind for one of our annual potlucks, not this. Some of us have more important things than to hear about some random absolutely adorable little baby dolphin successfully finding its way back to its alive, loving parents."

Unfortunately, instead of getting the usual groans and complaints of him being a 'party pooper', everyone just continued staring. Everyone except Arthur who, of course, was looking to the side as he visibly held back laughter. Bruce tried to force out a glare, but it didn't feel nearly as natural as usual.

"Well, that was quite a quick turn of emotions. Glad to see you're not actually going to stop being unreasonably serious from now on, Batman." Arthur stated. He'd managed to keep the laughter in, but just barely. "But not to worry, I'll be sure to tell more stories of babies with 'alive, loving parents' at our next potluck, if that's what you so wish. I have plenty more, not to worry, I'm sure I can entertain you."

"I don't want to hear them," Bruce corrected, "I want you to get them out of you at a place where I can leave whenever I want without missing anything actually important."

"Why are you so defensive?" Plasticman chimed in, "Don't worry about it, Batman. We know you, and we know how much you hate socializing. Just because today you've smiled a few times over things you usually hate doesn't mean we're completely going to think you've changed as a person. We get it, Bats, people go through phases and it doesn't necessarily mean they're being posed by imposters… Unless–" His eyes got larger. Literally.

"Wait, Aquaman. Batman may be acting extremely weird today, but he's got a point. You should think of some more stories like that." Clark interrupted. His chin was held high, as if bouncing from the ground with this sudden remembrance. "We have a pretty long break between our start of dinner and bowling on Saturday, so we'll be definitely doing plenty of talking while we eat, and saving dolphins would definitely be an entertaining conversation."

"Oh, that's a good idea," Arthur nodded back, "I have plenty more of them, you'll be happy to know. In fact, there was this one seahorse the other day that—"

Suddenly, Bruce shot up from his seat and turned to Aquaman. Before another word of his story got out, he loudly shushed him. His hand even swatted towards Arthur's mouth, nearly covering it. Arthur's jaw dropped in surprise, but fortunately, it did work to cut off his story. Many people were visibly judging Bruce. Bothersome enough, though, there was somehow still less staring than at the previous smiling.

"You need to wait. We still have more updates to get through, and don't you think one useless story was enough for today?" he snapped. "Or if you seriously can't wait until….whatever you're doing with Superman on Saturday, just post it in the group chat that I definitely won't read."

If he was going to be completely and utterly honest with himself, Bruce may have wanted to read just a little bit of it. But it did not mean that he didn't want to get out of there, and all the unpleasant staring, as quickly as possible. Back with Talia, where he could at least show a single smile without getting imposter accusations thrown his way.

"I admit you're probably right, Batman. Thank you for catching that for me," Aquaman replied. "I can get excited about my animals, sorry. I'm perfectly capable of waiting until Saturday. Pretty much everyone who's most invested in my stories is already planning on coming, anyway. I'm sure they'll be appreciated then, and I wouldn't want to run out or anything." He smirked slightly at the thought.

"Really?" Bruce scanned over the room, noticing all the many members who were more than ready to spend forever and more hearing a second story of his. He didn't need to count them to be surprised by just the thought. "This is quite the get-together you're having this weekend."

"Clark's the one planning it, not me. But yes," Arthur nodded. "Did no one tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Bruce clarified. His white-covered eye holes slanted as he quickly thought back to any invitations he'd reluctantly received from other league members. Despite having an extraordinary memory (even for unimportant things like these), he couldn't think of a single thing about bowling or dinners this Saturday.

"The double-double-double date," Clark answered. He was smiling as he said the words, but half out of mere nerves at how Batman would react. "It's for Valentine's Day. You know how people go on double dates with their friends and their significant others? That's the idea, except everyone in the entire team who's interested, going on a giant date. It could be even more doubles than that, for all we know."

Bruce instantly shook his head, "That's ridiculous. Assuming you even get that number, it would be a sextuple or octuple date, depending on what you mean by double double."

"That's… really not the point. I actually just call it the group date most of the time. I was just trying to make a kind of joke on it." Clark sighed. The previous excitement in his eyes had quickly drained, and so had his smile. "The point is that we discussed it last meeting, so I guess you weren't told. But you can still definitely come if you want! I'd appreciate it if you let me know by tomorrow evening, though…. So I can plan correctly…"

Bruce slowly and carefully nodded. His vision was pointed at Clark, but aside from that, the focus of his eyes went visibly beyond him, to nothing but a wall. He looked intently at it, but also intently evaded looking at Clark. Wheels were turning in his head. He thought of Talia, again— his significant other, of course. If he were to go, she'd obviously be his date, and the two of them would enjoy the night together.

He had nothing wrong with that.

In fact, it sounded kind of fun. Previous to their marriage, he may have had different feelings, but now that he was getting used to having a loving wife who he really couldn't avoid spending time with even if he tried, it was appealing. The only issue was one thing— they would be together, but this was a double-double-double date, not just a date. It would not only be them. He'd also be spending time with his friends.

He also had nothing wrong with that. On its own, at least.

But mashed together, with his abundance of secrets about Talia and her large kill count in consideration, it sounded much less fun. He most certainly did have something wrong with that. In fact, just the thought of such a horribly awkward situation made him begin to feel dizzy. His focus started to shift from Clark even more, so much that everyone else even began to notice.

"Batman, are you okay?" He heard someone ask, "There isn't anything wrong, is there?"

Bruce blinked rapidly and shuffled his neck around, quickly shaking off the uncomfortable daze. He calmly nodded, as certain in the movement as he could get himself to be, but everyone was still a bit concerned on the matter nonetheless. Silence took over the room for a solid five seconds before another question, this time much more specific and thus more sensitive, came out.

"Oh….Are you upset because… Do you…" Martian Manhunter quickly trailed off. He glanced downward as he spoke, with his voice no higher than a whisper. "Bruce, do you not have a date?" Both the stuttering and the whispering was quickly replaced by a much bolder tone.

Bruce neglected to answer, with his eyes growing wide at the accusing question.

Unsurprisingly, everyone took this much differently than he meant it. The silence nearly took over again, but instead of a complete lack of noise, there was nothing but a few whispered choruses of 'oh's throughout the rest of the room. Dismayed by the response, Bruce's mouth now dropped open— not out of embarrassment, but out of mere surprise and disappointment. Not that the rest of the league knew the difference.

"You are a mind-reader," He stated dryly, "Yet you can't seem to realize that not only I am not upset in the slightest, but even if I were, it would have absolutely nothing to do with my romantic life. I don't mean to be rude, J'onn, but that's a bit pathetic." He rolled his eyes.

"It's…It's alright, Bruce. We're your friends. You can be honest with us." Clark's voice was soft and completely light in tone. He gave Bruce a look that nearly resembled pity at this small –or really non-existent– problem. "In fact, if you're feeling lonely, we can even try to help you find someone! Probably not by Valentine's Day, but we can still—"

Bruce let out a loud, exasperated huff of air, "Clark. I am not looking to cheat."

"Oh," Clark's eyebrows furrowed, considering this answer. "I just… didn't quite realize…. Well, considering your whole reaction, I thought there was… something wrong, as far as that. Something you were upset about." He trailed off, glancing towards a random wall to the left of him nonchalantly.

"My reaction?" Bruce stared, in almost disbelief. His jaw was dropped open as well, making it more than clear to the rest of the league how he felt on this entire matter. "I didn't even have a reaction. You've known me long enough to know that I sincerely do not care whether or not you have some fancy double date."

"I know, but you've been acting very odd today." Clark remarked. He was still glancing at the random wall every few seconds as he spoke, pausing for that time as he got lost in thought. "Between your reaction to Aquaman's story, your short reports, the smiling but also the slight defensiveness…. And then the look you got on your face about the date, looking almost nauseous…. Is everything going alright with you, Bruce?"

Bruce nodded, "I smiled. Last I checked, that's generally considered a good sign."

"Good," Clark nodded in return, signaling an acceptance of the answer. "I just wanted to be sure. Smiling can mean a lot of different things than just happiness, especially when it's uncommon for the person doing it. Joker is one of your villains, after all." He stopped looking at the wall and made direct eye contact with Bruce.

"I understand," Bruce replied, but his tense expression said otherwise. It almost always said otherwise, though, so Clark shrugged it off.

"So… who's the lucky lady?" Oliver asked curiously. He was seated quite far from Bruce –nearly exactly the other side of the table— but he still looked over with great intrigue. His eyebrows were raised, and his eyes were wide as they peered at Bruce. "You're usually so secretive about your love life, asiding from dating other members, so it's hard to guess."

"Oh, it's…" Bruce's head was quick to cock over to look at Green Arrow, but once it got there, his eye contact was much less strong. Like bouncy balls or even race cars, his eyes kept looking at different things around the room to avoid any uncomfortable staring sessions with Oliver. "She's…"

"Go on,"

Bruce took a deep breath, and forced his eyes to align with Oliver's as he answered. He also forcefully held his face muscles in the most default expression he could manage, as well as making sure the rest of his body was still and not twitching with discomfort. Lying to his friends, especially considering some of their powers, was not a fun nor easy task. He had to keep everything he'd learned over the years in check, criminals or not.

"You… You wouldn't know her. No one here would. It doesn't matter."

It didn't seem like it worked.

Bruce was starting to realize he might be a bit out of practice with this whole 'hiding his feelings' thing. Everyone in the room was staring at him for what must have been at least the third time that day. Their sight felt like it was going right through his body, and not just as a matter of X-ray vision, but in a way that pierced through him and all of the secrets hiding in his brain and heart. It wasn't a good feeling, to say the least.

"What was Superman saying about your defensiveness again?" Oliver rolled his eyes, but let out a slight chuckle to himself. "Obviously we don't know her. We would probably know you two were a couple if we knew her. But that doesn't mean you can't at least give us her name…." He pointed out, shrugging. Bruce gulped.

"Do you… usually judge someone by their name?" Bruce quickly countered. Yet his voice was wavery, mostly uncertain with just the slightest tint of forced confidence that everyone in the room could easily detect. "That seems a bit presumptuous of you." Oliver was not the only one rolling his eyes this time.

"I'm sure none of us do… but you could tell us about her personality, too." Diana chimed in. She pushed her arm outward, with her palm up, gesturing the idea towards him.

Bruce side-eyed her, watching closely. His mouth was not just tense anymore, but almost scrunched up; his lips resembled a pout and his eyes were narrowed in a way that wasn't anywhere near as sophisticated as his usual bat-glare. They really were trying to wear him out today, it seemed. Or perhaps Clark was right. Perhaps Bruce was really acting this weird, considering he was usually monotone for almost every sentence through these things, and that certainly wasn't the case anymore.

"She's hard to explain. She's unique like that." Bruce managed to come up with. With his mind still racing, he sucked air in through his mouth and pushed himself upright. His expression faded back to the neutral monotone he'd previously mastered, and fortunately, that did finally seem to help slightly with the huge amount of suspicions and skepticism filling the room.

Still not enough, though. At this point, nothing would be enough.

"Ah, so we need to meet her to understand her?" Martian Manhunter clarified. J'onn had his hands intertwined together formally, and to Bruce's relief, the current tone seemed far from accusing. Simply curious— genuinely.

Bruce swiftly nodded, "She's a great woman, of course. But I wouldn't want to describe her incorrectly…. So I believe it best if we move off this topic and focus on more—"

"Well, that's completely understandable, but the good news is that we won't have to wait long either way." Martian Manhunter cut him off just as swiftly as the nod. He wasn't completely smiling, but seemed happy enough with this idea. Too happy, in Bruce's mind. "After all, won't you two be wanting to go to Clark's giant double date plans?"

"No, we won't." Bruce immediately shook his head profusely.

His eyelids were fluttering wider and wider, just as his pupils seemed to do the exact opposite. Although he wasn't moving much in the first place, this assumption made him stop in every one of his tracks. In fact, he was hardly breathing; even the breaths that did come out were uncomfortably short and harsh, leaving him nearly gasping for air.

"Why?"

"Be— Because…." Bruce stuttered. Although he now realized it was foolish, part of him sincerely expected them to just take no as an answer. He hoped they would just assume he had plans, or that he simply didn't feel like going. His hands were now clenched tightly, and his eyes nearly shut due to his tense emotions, but he kept thinking and thinking until eventually, after what felt like an eternity to him, but merely a couple seconds to the rest of them, he thought of something.

"Tal– I mean, my wife hates bowling."

Silence took over the room. Uncomfortable, awkward silence. Shocked, speechless silence. Breathtaking silence. Painful silence, even.

Bruce let go of his fists. He let go of the harsh breathing, and his tense eyes. It would be considered relaxation, on the surface –or at least, he hoped it did– but it was not. His shoulders and back not only stopped tensing but fully started slouching; in all reality, it was not relaxation, but defeat.

"Your… your wife?" Clark spoke slowly, letting the words that everyone was thinking hang in the air.

"Sorry, I meant girlfriend," Bruce answered as quickly as he possibly could. His brain and tongue scrambled together to come up with the perfect excuse. "I don't know what I was thinking, we're not even that serious yet. It was just… a slip of the tongue, that's all. I'm not marr—"

"I'm… not sure I believe you about that." Clark's words got faster, but only slightly. The deep eye contact he was sharing with Bruce still felt quiet, in its own way. Connected, but perhaps too connected, at least from Bruce's perspective. "Unless you're at least engaged, it seems a bit hard to believe you'd slip up on that. Bruce, please, why didn't you invite any of us to the wedding? I just…. Thought… I thought since we were your friends… and I'm your best friend ..."

Bruce quickly cut off the eye contact. He crossed his arms and peered downward. Each breath had become slow, yet in a way that bothered him even more than the fast ones. His elbows rested on the edge of the clear, glossy table, with the glass feeling cold under his skin. He certainly wasn't sad, but simply very, very exhausted.

Clark paused before he finished, "I was hoping I could've been your best man."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Clark. Please. I didn't even have a wedding to invite you to."

"Oh," Superman quickly relaxed. His emotions quickly transformed from sad to neutral to annoyed until eventually, all these upset, negative emotions gave way and shifted into mere amusement. His laugh wasn't loud, but it was audible and more than obviously from his mouth with the cheerful expression that suddenly took over his face. "Do you mean that you eloped, or are you still denying that you even have a wife?"

"Neither,"

"Neither?" Clark's amusement grew even more. He let out another small chuckle at the thought. To his dismay, Bruce stayed serious, and silent, as well, leaving the answer where it was. Clark's eyebrows furrowed. "What is that even supposed to mean? Do you have another ridiculous explanation?"

"Well, you see," Bruce began, "There was definitely some kind of wedding. It was a small one, though. Nobody even invited any friends. But I would've at least invited you, Clark, except it also wasn't really my wedding. In fact, I didn't even know I was invited until the last second! I got married at that wedding, though. I just didn't have anything to do with the planning, and considering the entire situation, I didn't even consider it real. It was a joke to me, at most. But I changed my mind later on, and now we're married."

"Wow," Diana stared at him blankly before dramatically rolling her eyes in a mix of sarcasm and simple disbelief. "This all makes so much more sense now that you spoke gibberish for a minute straight."

"No, you don't understand. It wasn't my choice to go to the wedding. As I already said, I have nothing to do with the planning and…" Bruce leaned into the table, throwing his arms up in chaotic motions as if it could possibly help his overcomplicated story make any more sense. "Well really, it was my wedding in the way that it was about my wife and I getting married, but it also wasn't mine because I didn't—"

Eventually, he sighed and let his arms drop.

"Nevermind. We basically just got eloped."

"O…kay," Diana slowly nodded, even though her eyebrows were furrowed in lasting confusion. "How long have you two been dating? This just seems very sudden. I could've sworn you mentioned going through a mild breakup with someone else only maybe five months ago? Your love life is almost never empty –we all know that, Bruce– but getting married? That's a big decision. You can't just get married to anyone who you experience feelings for."

"I've known her for several years now, and we've been dating for a lot of it. Well, loosely dating, at least. We had some kind of romance going on, is what I mean." Bruce explained. He had to take a deep breath every few seconds to keep him from chickening out on telling them. "But the romance was on-off. It was difficult to stay together for so long and honestly, I figured it would never work out. Once things started going the right direction, though, we had no hesitation to get married."

"Oh, that's sweet," Diana replied, "But why haven't we heard anything about her if you loved her so much?"

"While I loved her, there was no hope of it ever working out –until now, I mean– even at the very beginning, so why would I have told you? It didn't make any difference." Bruce stated matter-of-factly. He shrugged. "You don't need to know every detail of my life just because we're friendly to each other."

"I… suppose that makes sense?"

"Sure, but that still doesn't explain why he didn't tell us even once the two of them got engaged. If you've had enough time to get married, then I think you've had enough time to mention the woman of your dreams to us." Oliver pointed out. He was laying back, almost lounging on the back of his chair. Despite this relaxed position, though, he was crossing his arms at Bruce. "How recently did you two even get engaged?"

"We–" Bruce flopped over, letting his neck droop so far that his head nearly touched the table. Slow in each movement, he rubbed his temple. "Look, Green Arrow. I have tried to explain what happened with the wedding once before, and based on everyone's complete lack of comprehension over the completely basic situation, I will not be trying again."

"Alright then, Batman," Oliver shrugged, somehow managing to lean back even farther than he was already. "But don't expect us to forgive us for something you haven't even fully apologized for."

Bruce grimaced, but reluctantly nodded along.

"Perhaps meeting this wife of yours might ease our anger at you," J'onn suggested. His voice didn't get higher in any kind of specific excitement about the idea, but he was smirking enough to make it clear that he was hoping Bruce would agree. "So far, all we know about her is that you love her, and she… hates bowling? This all might make more sense if we got a chance to actually meet her."

"Yes, she hates bowling," Bruce replied in nearly a monotone, with just the slightest hint of irritation. "That's why you're not meeting her. I'm not going to make her do something she hates just so you get a chance to interrogate her."

"That's only one activity. Superman has at least one more scheduled, expecting that for reasons like these, not everyone will go to both. One is still better than none, Bruce." Although still completely calm, J'onn was certainly persistent. "What do you have against it? The other one is simply dancing, I believe. It seems like with all your galas, you should be good enough at that."

"My wife isn't good, though." His voice croaked with a tint of guilt at this lie.

Before J'onn could even open his mouth, Clark himself responded, "If she… really doesn't enjoy dancing either, regardless of skill, I still have the basic dinner scheduled. That, in itself, should be plenty of time to get to know her." He raised a single eyebrow. "Don't tell me she hates eating, too."

"Of course she doesn't hate going out for dinner. You say that as if the rest of what I've been saying are some kind of ridiculous lies, as well." Bruce rolled his eyes not once, but two times to get his point fully across. But to be extra safe, he added, "Which they most certainly are not."

"Oh, so you two can come for the dinner portion? That's great, I'm sure we'll all be looking forward to meeting her. Based on what you've said so far –aside from her hatred of bowling– she sounds like a wonderful woman." Clark gave almost no space between each sentence, even flashing a quick thumbs-up at the end of his full statement just to press the assumptions in place.

"That's not what I said. We… we actually… um, we're meeting someone else for dinner that day. I'm sure she'd love to come, but there's simply no way we could fit it."

"Are you sure that's the truth? You've been speaking a lot of suspicious nonsense today, Batman, so I think you might want to think it over for another second before you leave us with another complete and utter lie." Diana warned, "If you had plans, why didn't you start with that? It's a much easier explanation than this whole 'she hates bowling' excuse."

"It's not a lie," Bruce argued. He'd finally managed to get the hang of his batglare again, which he used strongly on Diana, on top of tightly crossing his arms. "We have plans for dinner, but not the bowling time."

"If that's the truth, who is it you're even getting dinner with? Do we know the person? If not, what relationship do you have with them? Friend, family member, co-worker…" Diana asked. Her eyes were direct and determined in expression. "All I ask is a quick, but decent description."

"I– Errm– Um–" Bruce let out an embarrassing amount of croaking, fumbles, and stutters before he realized that there was nothing they would truly accept as an explanation besides merely an unchangeable kind of stubbornness. "That's not your business. I'm allowed to have my own life outside of the League, and you're just going to need to accept that. I'm not canceling my other plans for this one double-date event."

This stubbornness was unfortunately also met with more stubbornness from the other side. In fact, everyone began to come up with so many arguments and questions that they not only stopped giving Bruce time to answer, but they stopped giving each other chances to talk, either. The words overlapped and interrupted one another, getting louder by the second.

"These excuses are getting embarrassing, Batman. Superman wasn't kidding about your defensive attitude…"

"...know, we'll stop being nosy if you stop being suspicious with every…."

"...just answer the question, Bruce…"

"...guessing you don't even have a wife, or a girlfriend. This is quite the hoax you've come up with. Next thing we know, you'll start saying she lives in Canada and doesn't like to travel, and that's why you can't take…"

"...seems above all this, with all his training in mind. But that just makes this even more suspicious. If this is what he'll slip up on and let us know, who knows what he's focusing his actual energy on keeping secret. It's getting on my nerves to just think about what he might be…"

"...wondering why the two of them didn't work out in the first place, if he loves her so much. It's quite concerning, especially since Bruce seems like he could be prone to…"

"...who is this woman and why does she hate bowling? Who hates bowling? If that really is true, it's a huge red flag about her as a person. I'd assume she's probably going to make Batman's life terrible and then try to keep him from getting a…"

"...could even have some kind of child together that he's keeping secret because it's part vampire, just like his wife…."

"...frankly, I'm really disappointed in you, Bruce…"

"...Bruce has enough issues as it is, he doesn't need any kind of abusive wife in his life, too. I just hope that everything really is as innocent as he claims, and that there isn't anything he's hiding for self-protective reasons, like perhaps…"

"...probably have a quite ugly baby that he wants to keep hidden, too…"

The noise had gotten very, very bad. Bruce's head hurt from all the complicated, sometimes-even-upsetting words coming through his ears, and this headache kept getting worse and worse with every moment more that he let this mess go on. Exhaustion, almost like a large weight, pushed down on his muscles. As if things weren't bad enough, the slightest bit of nausea then started coursing through his stomach. He couldn't take it anymore.

"FINE!" He yelled into the large room. A similarly loud, long echo followed.

Every single train of aloud thought instantly stopped in its tracks. Aside from the dwindling echo, the entire room fell completely and utterly silent in a matter of milliseconds. Everyone looked to Bruce, waiting impatiently for him to elaborate on his sudden, loud, but still undeniably cooperative scream. Their eyes were still, but their bodies were not– some tapped the table anxiously, while others almost vibrated in place (mostly Barry for the last one).

"Perhaps…. Perhaps we can reschedule with the other person and go, just for… part of the dinner, at least. Perhaps we can make it work if it means that much to all of you to meet her." Bruce gave in. His face lacked any kind of emotion at all, with his mouth lips straight and his eyebrows relaxed. "But, that is only if you all promise to quiet down and keep going with the important parts of the meeting, aside from asking me meaningless questions."

He gently shut his eyes, closing off this worrisome world out of his view, but he could still hear the other Justice League members thrilled cheering. His frown, which was already exaggerated beyond belief, deepened even further.

Needless to say, he was not looking forward to that Saturday.

On the way home, as he silently steered the batplane around the skies, he considered how he was going to pull this off. Talia generally acted normal enough, he figured, but she was still not on the same page as him with all the many, many lies he'd told in the last hour, and he would rather avoid having a conversation about those lies, either. He rubbed his chin, considering which would be more awkward– having his lies revealed, or telling Talia just how much he lied to his friends about her. At least his friends were already used to it.

That was only one of his many worries, though, and the most insignificant if anything. Talia hopefully wouldn't speak about her job as an assassin, but even if she was trying to keep it a secret, occupations were quite a common conversation starter, especially when they were only just now meeting her at a very long dinner gathering.

He made another swerve, heading closer to the League of Assassins hideout, until he could nearly see it out of the bottom edge of his window. He began to head downward.

Bruce knew Talia could lie, and most likely quite well, but these were not average civilians. In fact, even though Martian Manhunter was usually quite considerate about privacy concerning the whole mind-reading situation, he could technically rat out any lie in a matter of seconds. In that circumstance, Bruce sincerely doubted Talia knew any of the same mind-blocking techniques that Bruce would use.

A gulp formed in his throat. If only he'd been a little more honest at the beginning about the less important matters, Martian Manhunter would have much less reason to attempt to read Talia's mind. As much as he'd tried to evade everything successfully, all he'd ended up achieving was a worse situation.

At this point, he was almost to the landing area of their hideout, but still very lost in thought. Nonetheless, Bruce carefully maneuvered himself downward and landed.

The more he thought about it, he realized that he should've told them he'd gotten married –eloped, specifically– immediately to make them believe it had been so recent that he simply hadn't had any kind of chance to tell them. That way, everything would've started on good, non-suspicious terms. But it was too late to change anything now, he knew, so his mind trailed off to what times he might be able to teach Talia mind-blocking methods. They still had four days until Saturday, which was time, but not nearly enough to have her master it. If she hadn't mastered it, her attempts could even make it worse, and they had way too much suspicion on them as it was.

Bruce continued rubbing his chin with these bothersome thoughts, even as he exited the plane and strolled right into the door. His feet plotted along heavily, growing more heavy with each and every new concern that popped into his head. The headache from before was still there, and it was getting worse.

But fortunately, when he finally got to his and Talia's room, he forgot nearly all those previous concerns.

This was not because he'd found any kind of solution, though– quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. For, the second his eyes met Talia, he realized those issues, though prevalent, were not nearly as bad as what he was currently looking at. Bruce had been so eager for developments in Talia's pregnancy before that everything seemed to come so slow, so Bruce figured it was still slow. But now, with a different perspective, this was clearly not the case.

Although only three months in, Talia was very, very visibly pregnant.

Bruce put a hand to his forehead, wiping away sweat. This Saturday would not just be awkward with how many secrets would no doubt be revealed to his lovingly-concerned friends, but at this point, he was starting to wonder whether he'd have any friends at all by the end of it. Even Talia might be angry at him. Like some kind of bad cramp, he felt overwhelming pangs of dread push against his heart.

"Hello, Beloved," Talia greeted. Unlike his solemn, deep frown, she was widely grinning.

"H….ello," Bruce slowly replied. He glanced around himself and the rest of the room, clearly distracted. Talia took a few steps toward him and furrowed her eyebrows at his odd behavior. Seeing this, Bruce quickly shrugged. "The Justice League meeting went fine, plenty of other members' cities have been improving. It reminded me, though— I should really be keeping a closer eye on Gotham. It made sense to be taking a break back when we were dealing with Qayin, but the fact that I still haven't moved back after defeating him a few weeks ago isn't doing well for the city's already terrible crime rate, I'm sure."

"Oh yes. Of course…" Talia nodded, but her voice was uncertain, and even slightly timid. She loosely wrapped her arms around herself. "What does that mean for you and my father's allyship? It'll continue regardless, I presume? …But more importantly, what about…. Our… oh, you know what I'm saying here. We're married, and that's why I figured you were still living here."

"We'll figure something out," Bruce answered. He bit his lip, now changing his thought train to figuring out this problem instead. It was easier to think about than the others, at least. "Just on a theoretical level, how do you feel about moving to Gotham yourself? Obviously we're going to continue living together no matter what happens, especially for our future child, but I can't let the city down…"

Talia bit her lip, as well, "I guess I don't exactly have anything against moving to Gotham. It could be nice, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

"...Right," Bruce blinked at the mention of Ra's. He tapped the back of his cheek in some futile attempt to spark more ideas that wouldn't cause such a problem with Talia's work life. "I forgot about your League of Assassins duties for a second there. But I'm sure we can figure out something…"

With both still biting their lips and tapping different body parts to stir more thoughts, the room fell silent. Both were undeniably anxious about every word, and thus, the words ceased. Bruce was much more anxious overall than Talia, though, still almost shaky from the whole situation with the Justice League's group date, and the growing necessity to inform Talia of that situation.

Even through the silence, Bruce opened his mouth a few times and clicked his tongue. He'd sincerely tried to get the words to come out, but they were difficult, to say the least.

Eventually, he managed at least part of it, "Talia. To be completely frank with you, not everything at the Justice League went well. Or even decent. Some of it was quite bad, as a matter of fact, and quite worrisome, and…." he trailed off.

"And?" Talia looked up from her thoughts, a concerning expression on her face.

"Well… Look… See, they were starting to—" Bruce stumbled over each and every one of his words, until eventually he sighed. With this breath, the situation came spilling out. "Talia, we have a problem. I forgot to tell them we were getting married, and I ended up accidentally mentioning it, so now they're suspicious of why they weren't informed sooner. In fact, they're doubting whether I even have a wife or partner at all. Basically, they wouldn't leave me alone about it, especially since one of the members has some kind of… double-date event scheduled for this weekend, on Valentine's Day. They wanted me –and more importantly, you– to come."

Her eyes opened wide at the abrupt information. "Well….other than the fact that your friends are most likely going to be berating me with suspicious questions, that sounds…. pleasant enough? Where would we be going for dinner?" She asked. Lingering unevenness from their previous topic still held in her voice, on top of the extra worry of this new information.

"I don't even know," He frowned. Pivoting on his heel, he hurried out of the room to find his communicators.

Talia waited patiently and silently as Bruce got the communicator. Her eyes were still wide open, staring at the door in front of her. Near her hips, she started to tap her fingers in some quiet attempt to pass the time. During this entire period, her eyes stared at the door, and they continued to even as he walked in.

Once he'd sprinted back through the wide, fancy, grand doorway, he was quick to answer.

"Some place in Star City. They're doing this to make it easier for Green Arrow, apparently, since the rest of them have super powers to aid their arrival," he informed her of this information calmly, but then rolled his eyes and got frustrated in tone. "But of course, since they forgot to tell me until now, they made the decision before we were even part of it, and then they forced us to go, too…. Ugh."

"At least we have planes. Does Green Arrow even have planes? I don't know a ton about him, but I've never exactly heard of an 'Arrow Wing'." Talia pointed out in response.

"I… don't think he does," Bruce admitted, but he quickly rolled his eyes again. "In fact, I've been telling him constantly, over and over again, that he really needs to get one if he wants to be a helpful member of the Justice League. But every time, he rejects it! I probably shouldn't be telling you this, for his identity's sake, but he's just as much of a billionaire as I am, so there's no excuse there."

"But we already have them. It's fine, Beloved. I don't think either of us have anything planned that day. We'll have plenty of time to fly over and fly back." Talia shrugged. She paused for a second, before narrowing her eyes. "But next time, you should really consult me beforehand. I could've had something, for all you knew."

"I know!" he sighed. "I didn't have a choice, I'm sorry."

Talia nodded, "Well, either way, we'll make the most of it. I am… ashamed to admit I don't have a ton of friends of my own, courtesy of my… constricting life-style as a League of Assassins member. It might be nice to at least become friendly with yours." A small smile flashed onto her face.

"I… guess so," Bruce nodded, but his eyes directly stared at his floor. His pupils seemed to almost waver in place, completely unsure in every regard.

Talia, on the other hand, was staring at him. She observed his entire expression and position— his forced composure, mixed with his undeniable uncertainty and clear anxiety. The more he thought and dreamt about what might happen when they arrived at the dinner, the more it made him dizzy. For the second time that day, he completely lost focus and fumbled backwards.

"Are you alright?" Talia grabbed his arm, helping him stabilize himself. Her jaw was wide open, as were her bright eyes.

"Yes, yes. I'm… fine. Only a bit overwhelmed, at most. I simply got a bit too lost in thought and lost track of what was going on around me, including… standing, I suppose." He glanced around himself, quickly grounding not just his body, but his mind, as well. His eyes blinked, over and over again, until he was fully back into his conscience. "Anyhow, I should let them know that we really will be coming, for certain…"

"Well, you have the communicator right there," Talia nodded and jolted her head towards Bruce, specifically towards his hands, which grasped his walkie-talkie firmly. Her mouth now resembled an eerily straight line, but her eyes were dilated with eagerness. "Go ahead, Beloved."

Bruce lifted his arm upwards, bringing his communicator up to his chest simultaneously. His eyes didn't close or blink in the slightest as he did this movement, staying right on the bright blue object. The overall focus of his expression made it look, from Talia's perspective, like he was trying to initiate some kind of deep staring contest with his communicator. The staring contest lasted long, too— bothersomely long. His arm was steady, but very, very slow.

It eventually got up there nonetheless. But only for his finger, right next to the on button, to take even longer.

Talia's head leaned towards it again, desperately urging him to get over this worthless behavior and simply let his friends know, so they could inevitably move on with their lives. She tapped her foot against the wood floors, getting more and more impatient. After another couple seconds, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

At the same time, Bruce's mouth popped open, "...Unless you might have some kind of good, solid excuse we can use instead."

Talia let out a loud, impatient, exasperated, and even outright aggravated breath, edging between a loose huff and a very harsh sigh.

"Didn't you already try that when you were there?" she pointed out. "At this point, at least, I'm guessing they're not exactly about to accept excuses, no matter how well-made and plausible they are. Besides, frankly, I don't see what's so bad about spending a few hours with them. As I already said, it sounds pleasant enough."

"Of course you would think that," Bruce muttered to himself, low enough to hope she wouldn't hear. He clenched his hands around the communicator even tighter, nearly into a fist-like shape. "You're not the ones who has any friends at stake here. Especially not any important ones, who you need to keep to save the worl–"

"What was that?" Talia raised any eyebrow, making it more than clear she'd heard.

With this remark resting deeply in his ears, and more importantly, his mind, Bruce felt his face turn bright red in sudden embarrassment. His body froze otherwise, with even his eyes not daring to shift from position. But slowly, in some attempt to ease the embarrassment, he put his finger back on top of the ON button.

"Oh, erm…. Nothing, Talia. You're right, they're most certainly not going to take any more excuses. I should just speak to them right now and let them know."

Talia nodded, but even as she went back to her previous impatient urges, Bruce still hadn't moved an inch, or even so much as a centimeter. There he was, hesitating and avoiding the situation yet again. From Talia's perspective, it hurt to watch so much that she shut her eyes tightly in annoyance. The lack of pressure from her staring did the opposite of hurrying him along, though.

"Hmmmm. We're sure there isn't some way I can explain everything I said earlier, on top of a current excuse, right?" he considered, still clearing stalling. "Something they'd believe?"

With her eyes now closed even tighter, squeezing so much they ached, Talia firmly nodded. She pulled her arms into a frustrated cross over her chest— which did no more than make Bruce's face fade into a bright blush again. Eventually, as she could still hear absolutely no movement on Bruce's part, she opened her eyes again.

"Go ahead, Beloved," Talia spoke in a less than friendly tone. Bruce nodded.

But then he went back to staring, and staring, and staring. It was getting a bit ridiculous, as he fumbled around with the communicator, in some quite futile attempt to make it seem like he simply hadn't good grip and thus had no choice but to stall as he got it back in position. Talia sighed, over and over again at each of these attempts.

"If you can't do it, give it to me. They wanted to meet me, no? Well, if I speak for you, that's simply a head start." she suggested. Her arm was extended out in front of her, a mere few inches away from stealing it right out of his hands. "Come on. No point in stalling even longer, Beloved."

"Oh?" Bruce's eyes finally looked up from their nearly unbreakable gaze. He blinked at her, as if the chance in focus somehow startled him. "Well…. Doesn't it seem like they might benefit from a surprise? As long as they'll be meeting you anyhow, I don't see any reason it needs to happen sooner… Spoilers do nothing but disappoint people, of course…."

"I would agree with you," Talia commented dryly, "but it's pretty obvious that it's either coming out of my mouth, or not at all."

Bruce's face somehow managed to turn even more red this time, almost the shade of a tomato. For a moment, his fingers shook in place.

"I was just about to, if you'd given me a second longer to come up with my exact wording, Talia." He explained, still visibly nervous even as he tried so incredibly hard to act completely calm. "But if you insist on being the one to inform them, I really couldn't care less. Here you go. Just press the big red button when you're saying something, and stop holding it when finished."

He slowly reached over and placed it in the middle of Talia's palm.

Within a millisecond of getting it into her hands, she'd already pressed the button and started talking. "Hello, this is Batman's wife. I'm contacting his league to let you know that he told me about the whole double-date event, and it sounds very fun. We'll be coming along, not just because of your insistence, but out of our desires…."

Bruce gulped at her words, "Don't… don't overplay it, Talia. Then they might think we'll be coming to all the events, and… Well, even aside from the general displeasures of that scenario, I already got an imposter accusation today. I'd rather not get another."

She paused, suddenly pulling the communicator away from her mouth to fully look at him. "You've changed lately, though. They should be able to understand that."

"Except they won't! At least not this suddenly, anyways…. And I have absolutely no issues keeping up my previous behaviors. In fact, it's probably for the best." Bruce countered. His eyebrows were tense and stern. "We have plenty of other things we could attend, especially considering my alias as Bruce Wayne… not that you should probably show up for those, either…"

"You're overthinking this," she insisted, upturning her chin in a slightly stubborn manner. "Just let me finish."

They heard some staticky, but undeniably positive responses from the other team members, many of which joyfully commenting on an eagerness to meet this new wife of his. It made Bruce's stomach twist into a strict, uncomfortable knot. But he held back those emotions and simply kept quiet as Talia responded.

"That's very nice of you all. Thank you for the invitation, and I'm sure we'll all have a great time. That is all, Goodbye."

As that topic's chatter quickly died down, she swiftly handed the communicator back to Bruce. He grasped it back again quickly and tightly. The second it was resting between his fingers, was the same second in which he spun around and tried to hurry out of the room, in hopes of getting it put back in its place before he forgot. But as his side of his foot nearly brushed against the door frame, he felt a hand grab his arm.

Talia nudged him back over to her. She placed her hands on both sides of his neck, with her fingers reaching back around his ears in a firm but gentle manner. Her thumbs, which titled the opposite of the rest of her fingers, softly massaged his lower cheeks. She held him there with this hold, in utter silence, for several seconds before she spoke.

"Listen to me, Beloved," Talia whispered. She pulled him closer, leaving his lips less than a millimeter from her own. "You need to take a deep breath. You need to remember that these are your friends, not any kind of enemies with invisible traps laid in front of you. Just relax, please. It's going to be fun."

Then, with her comforting words still hanging in the air, she kissed him.

"You don't know what happened there, Talia…." Once her lips were off of his, he instantly shook his head. Bruce's eyes softened slightly, but only out of more worry, certainly not a lack of thereof. He'd hardly even noticed her physical attempts to sooth him. "Trust me, I have many reasons to be concerned on how this will end."

"To be fair, I'm quite confident you, out of all people, could find reason anywhere if you put your mind to it." Talia went back to massaging his cheeks. Her eyes were wide, peering into his in a way that almost made him uncomfortable. "As I already said, you need to relax. Stressing won't help either way."

"If I can use my stress to come up with a solution, it will, actually," Bruce pointed out.

Talia was quick to open her mouth, nearly beginning to argue back, but Bruce was even quicker. He spun right back around, smooth on the ball of his foot, and jogged out the door. Talia's arms reached out —or more accurately, were already extended in his direction, which she continued— but he ignored her. In fact, Bruce didn't even do so much as glance backwards before he'd completely left the room, and likewise, abandoned Talia.

Now alone with nothing but her frustrated thoughts, she sighed.

Until Saturday, neither of them spoke of the double-date again. From Talia's perspective, this evasion was due to a constant desire to keep Bruce from stressing out over it again. But unsurprisingly, he was still stressing over it plenty— only managing to do a better job being silent about it than before. He was still avoiding the verbal topic altogether himself, though, out of some kind of attempt to at least forget about it part of the time.

That morning, on the other hand, the double-date was the only thing they would speak of at all. At lunch, Bruce simply would not shut up about what they would do for certain questions, or suspicions, or just any kind of bizarre situation that he'd worried into existence. Talia listened along, half humoring him, and half genuinely starting to join him in worry. Spending an hour listening to a frantic man's ramblings wasn't calming, to say the least.

"Beloved, please," she reasoned. Her hand reached over to touch his, in some futile attempt to provide him with some mild physical comfort. "Don't you think your friends grabbing me and locking me up in order to spend hours reading my mind in order to find out all our secrets is a bit… unlikely?"

Bruce sighed, "...You're right, they wouldn't do that."

He sat still, staring down into the reflective center of his plate, as he thought more potentially detrimental situations over. The white dish was smeared in green vegetable juice, as well as the slightest bit of red meat residue, but aside from that, he could see his own face clearly enough inside it. It distorted Bruce's features, of course, but one thing was obvious— he looked very, very pale from the lost sleep of the night before.

Talia was sitting slightly less still, a few feet away; her hands gently tapped her fork to her dish every few seconds in a slow-but-nervous kind of fidget. On the glamorously large table, Ra's' spot was usually on the other end as Bruce, so she always took a spot not too far from the middle of the sides, but still leaning significantly closer to the latter. It was just the two of them at the moment, though.

"Unless…" Bruce's head suddenly popped back up, losing sight of the plate. His voice was loud and almost excited, echoing around the large dining room. "Unless there was some mind-control involved. They did seem like they were a little bit off last meeting, now that I think about it… Perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to assume that they were just–"

"Are you sure? Or are you just searching for things wrong or suspicious again?" Talia asked. She side-eyed him, with one eyebrow raised in subtle amusement. "This is not the first time we've ever met. I know you, and I know the way you act about these things. I've said it a million times just today I'm sure, but you need to relax."

"Relaxation never did anyone any good when their lives were in potential danger," he stated matter-of-factly. "You need to work hard, get to the bottom of it, and defeat the threat at hand, not just 'relax'."

"Except we're not in danger," Talia's head already hung low, but it was getting lower by the second.

"You don't know that for sure," Bruce countered, sticking his finger into the air with his point. His eyebrows furrowed, still lost in thought (or worry, specifically) about that evening. "As I already said, there's a good chance we're dealing with mind-controlled super-powered heroes, which is extremely dangerous, on the contrary."

"That is a theory… and one that you only came up with when specifically searching for the worst possible outcome, may I add." At this point, her head wasn't just drooping, but had fully dropped onto her hand in a momentary facepalm. "By that logic, we're always 'in danger' to you. You'd have to spend your entire life worrying! Constantly!" She picked her head back up to look him in the eyes as she exclaimed the last couple sentences.

"Exactly," he nodded confidently, with his arms crossed in an almost smug gesture. "I thought you said you knew me. If you knew me, you'd know that ever since I was 8-years-old and my parents were gunned down in an alleyway, I have spent my entire life worrying… constantly."

Talia stared at him in response, but slowly nodded, "I… can't even argue."

He stared back at her after this, until eventually, it became nothing but awkward. The silence was even worse, though, as Bruce's worrying kept him stuck in his head, and Talia's exhaustion from his overwhelming worrying kept her from bothering to open her mouth another time. Until, of course, she did. This time, her voice was in nothing but an almost meek kind of whisper.

"I…. suppose I just kind of thought you were feeling better about that now. Between our marriage, you and my father's allyship, and of course, our precious baby on the way, I figured maybe you were beginning to feel…. Happier." Talia admitted. Her shoulders were tense and shrugged upward in an uncomfortably strict way. "In my mind, that included less worry."

As these quiet, almost depressing words filled Bruce's mind enough to even start pushing out his previous worries, he reached over and grabbed hold of her hand.

"I was feeling happier, I promise," he stated. A small smile began to peak out from the corners of his lips, quickly contrasting the previous mess of emotions. Simultaneously, he gently squeezed her hand. "And overall, I still am. This thing with my friends has just… gotten me in a bad state, I guess. Once I fully make up with them, I'll be happy again."

Talia began to smile back at him, "Good, because this has been giving me a headache."

With the mention of her experiencing any kind of pain at all, Bruce's jaw dropped wide open. He got up from his chair, nearly flinging it backwards with his speed, and rushed over to Talia's direct side. He looked over her, inspecting every little red spot or mild bruise, especially near her head and face. But even as he did this, Bruce continued holding her hand, although admittedly, the action had become more of an attempt at comforting her or soothing her out of her headache than just a general affection.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. There was clear worry in his voice, with it low and wavery, nearly sounding like he was about to cry. The worry was quickly escalating into full on panic as he gently touched her forehead, hoping to not feel any kind of fever. "I didn't mean to make you stressed with all my fretting. I was just trying to sort it out for myself… I'm so, so sorry. Are you alright? Is the baby alright? I didn't hurt it, did I? Or you?"

His hand now quickly changed to touching her belly, yet again hoping to not feel anything wrong.

Talia stared at him blankly, "You're doing it again."

"What?" Bruce didn't even bother to look up from his fretful little inspection as he said the word, clearly already much too occupied to listen to her exasperated, but truly more and more accurate complaints.

"Worrying so much that you give me a headache," she swiftly specified, "Or, since I already had one, this change of worries certainly doesn't change the fact that it's getting progressively worse with each of your ridiculous questions." Her smile had disappeared just as quickly as his, replaced with a very annoyed expression directed at the top of Bruce's rapidly-moving head.

"I'm— I'm sorry…" he fumbled with his words. With every last second of Talia not answering those 'ridiculous questions,' he was losing his cool even more. "But please, is the baby okay? I promise I'll stop soon, but if the baby feels even the tiniest bit wrong, we should get you rushed to a doctor, and then get—"

"Beloved," Talia facepalmed again, "As soon as you stop freaking out, both the baby and I will be completely and utterly fine. It's just one mild headache. Please calm down– if not for the headache, then for the bare bones of my sanity."

His overprotectiveness had gotten to the point that he was no longer holding her hand or gently touching her belly. He'd determined those small actions completely futile against this growing, although completely imaginationary, sickness that was in the process of destroying every organ inside her body. Instead, he was outright hugging her; he held her against him in a way that was half endearing, and half just plain overdone.

"But don't you think, just to be safe, the doctor should know about this? You never know what a headache could mean," Bruce insisted. He used his hold on her to start to nudge her out of her chair to do just that. "The head is a very important part of the body! What if you have a brain tumor? Not only would that quite possibly mean the baby was doomed, but if we don't get it diagnosed, you could be, too!"

"As the one with a medical license here…" Talia stated firmly, "No."

"Why?" he argued. The hugging was getting tighter and tighter, making it more than clear just how genuinely scared he was from these made-up worries. "Is there some reason it could do the opposite of helping? Oh no… has your doctor been hurting you? Is she secretly a sadist who uses her patiences as test for her mad scientist–"

"I need you to listen to yourself for a moment, Beloved," she said, reaching her arm around Bruce's to pat him on the back.

"I need you to listen to yourself, too, Talia!" Bruce frantically exclaimed. Fortunately, he loosened his grip slightly, but only so he was far enough away to push her face over to look at him, directly in the eyes. "If you or the baby gets hurt, well…. I don't know what I'd do with myself. I don't think I could live with myself knowing I let that happen, frankly."

"I know…." Talia let out a loud sigh, but a mere second later, let a smile drift onto her face. For the third time, they joined hands, after she slowly shifted her own hand back to the top of his. "And that's really, really, sweet of you. But it's also unnecessary, and way too much. We already talked about this around a month ago, remember?"

Bruce squeezed her hand again, tight in ways that gave Talia the urge to squirm away, but he eventually nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Talia squeezed back, although a much more reasonable amount. "As much as I love you, I can handle both myself and the baby I'm carrying on my own, and your overprotective behaviors often create more problems than solutions."

Bruce cocked his chin up and down in a small, but accepting nod.

"Why don't we get up either way, though?" he suggested. This time, he refrained from anything other than lending out a single one of his hands to help escort her up from her seat. "We've —or really, I should say I've— spent so long talking over the dinner tonight that we have less than three hours left until it starts."

Talia kept quiet, but showed clear agreement by instantly taking his hand and waltzing out by his side. Her face continued displaying a complete and full smile, seeing as Bruce had managed to not come up with any more reasons to ruin it. The couple strolled back up to their bedroom, where they had more discussions about it, but fortunately more relaxed ones, and ones that did get side-tracked to more pleasant topics plenty. These only lasted just over an hour, though, before they got up once again.

"Oh," Bruce glanced at the clock on the wall. It had a lavender rim, matching the room's general pastel aesthetic. He popped up from the light yellow chair he'd been sitting in, and quickly hopped a few feet towards the door. "With time for the plane ride, we should be going soon. The Bat-Plane may be fast, but Star City is pretty far."

While he was still in the middle of making this remark, Talia got up from her own seat. She did the action slower than him, but still at a decent pace. By the time he'd finished explaining, she was standing right next to him in front of the door. Now, Bruce opened the door, only to take a step to the side while using his foot to prop it open. He gestured Talia forward with a soft smile, which she returned.

He did the same thing with the next door, and the next one. Talia was starting to wonder whether this was another protective situation; perhaps he really thought the door would hurt the baby, with the way he'd been acting lately.

But it didn't exactly matter, and either way, they eventually found themselves both standing in front of his plane, still with time to waste. For the millionth time, Bruce hurried up to the door and swung it open. It was a bit more awkward this time, considering it was a plane door and not just a house one, but through every discouraged grunt, he stubbornly persevered. It would've been much easier for him to just let her do it normally, but it seemed there was no end to his old-fashioned chivalry.

Nonetheless, once it was time for them to start flying, everything was situated and ready.

They took off into the sky, leaving a big black blur in their trail. It was a boring, mostly silent plane ride, with Bruce busy driving as well as just much too lost in his anxious thoughts to speak, and Talia simply not feeling like starting a conversation at the moment. It went quickly, though. As it would turn out, dreading something did very little to make the time beforehand last longer. But what did last long, however, was Bruce's slow, hesitant steps into the restaurant.

He was still quick to open the door for Talia, though. He couldn't possibly let her be forced to do it herself, no matter how nervous he was. Then, behind her, he carefully tip-toed inside.

A few of his fellow Justice League members had already arrived and were currently sitting on a bench, patiently waiting for the rest. Many had their eyes softly drifting downward, but all of them popped back up at the sight of another member's arrival. Yet, as this happened, their eyes opened wide not in excitement, but in astonishment. In the same moment, shock took over his own face.

There had definitely been some miscommunication– he knew that much.

In front of him, the fellow Justice League members he was staring at were not in their uniforms at all; they were unmasked, normally clothed, and in Superman's case, had the secret identity glasses on. Batman, on the other hand, was very much not normally clothed, or unmasked. He looked so very wrong compared to them, and everyone was staring at him very, very peculiarly.

With this revelation, he ran out of the restaurant as quickly as his feet would carry him, grabbing Talia and pulling her alongside.

"I apologize, this is the wrong place!" He loudly remarked, looking much more at the host and other guests than the partner he'd realistically be speaking to. Talia was squinting, completely unaware of what he was trying to achieve or say with this, considering someone of her profession could more than tell it was performative. Nonetheless, Bruce continued, "We should go find the right place!"

Once they were outside, he took her over to the side and spoke to her in a swift, hushed whisper. His hands grasped both of her arms tightly, holding her in place right in front of him. In fact, as much as he tried to refrain from it, he slightly shook her in his panic.

"Did you see them? They weren't wearing suits! Just normal civilian clothes!" he stressed, glancing downward to his own unfitting, elaborate costume. It was bad enough to be wearing it at all, but the fact that he'd already entered, too, made him worry for his own secret identity when he would inevitably have to re-enter dressed like Bruce Wayne. "I… I don't even know whether I have any change of clothes with me…"

"Why didn't you ask them about that before? With all due respect, that seems like quite the thing to assume, Beloved…." Talia was looking right at his Bat costume as well, with her eyes wide.

"I know," Bruce's head leaned slightly to the side, but even more drastically, leaned directly downward in regret. Only a second later, though, he started to make his way back to the batplane at a swift sprinting pace. He continued looking and speaking to Talia as he did so, raising his voice to let the words travel. "I was just so focused on making sure things didn't go wrong with you that I forgot other things could go wrong, as well!"

"Well, I must say," she commented sarcastically, subtly rolling her eyes. "If this was secretly your elaborate plan of an excuse to get out of going, then it's certainly an impressive one, albeit quite amoral. They saw it themselves, after all."

"It's not, I promise. I may not be the… most honest person in the world, but that's just plainly too much, even for me." Bruce's eyes opened wide at even the suggestion of such a secretive, complex plan all to avoid this one dinner gathering. He may be stressed, and maybe a little bit desperate to keep his marriage to an assassin from destroying all his friendships, but not that desperate.

"Fine, fine," Talia sighed. "Just go search for the change of clothes, and if we don't have it, well… we'll deal with it then."

Bruce nodded, but the second he was done, twirled his head back around and ran off. His feet took the swift sprinting pace back up, and he was certainly quick as he jumped from one foot to the other, and then to the first one again. Even though the Bat-plane was in a hidden spot, fairly far away from the restaurant, he'd arrived at it in no time.

But when he was on his way, his mind was, of course, bustling with thoughts, worries, connections, and most of all, solutions. Talia had a point– if they really couldn't find a change of clothes, it would be the perfect excuse, as well as completely truthful. With this thought, nearly all his previous worries were quickly diminishing. No questions, all proof, and even with a slight bonus of them already having seen Talia, which may help them be more patient as far as her appearance to future gatherings. In the meantime, perhaps he could even sort out more plans.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that this was not the panic-worthy mess he'd originally thought, but rather, a glorious opportunity. To procrastinate, that was, but an opportunity nonetheless.

At this point, he was standing in front of the Bat-plane, hesitating to take even a single step forward. If he had the outfit, his opportunity was gone. On a technical level, he could always lie to everyone else that it hadn't been there, but at this point, he'd told enough lies that his guilty complex would certainly benefit from avoiding that. Besides, as he'd said before, it was simply another level of trickery than the white lies he'd sputtered out at the meeting; it wasn't something he was going to get into, for the moral element if nothing else. Hence, he really, really wished it could be nothing more than the truth.

With his hopes getting higher and higher, the prospect of this opportunity disappearing was starting to make him outright nervous. Bruce gulped.

He still forced himself to find out soon enough, though, as his hands quickly fiddled around with the luggage compartment door until it was wide open. Now, with that previous nervousness and reluctance sucked up in a big, loud breath, he threw his hands into the trunk and began to search through all his many kits and pieces of gear for the dreaded outfit. Eventually, to his dismay, his fingers felt the gentle texture of a cotton shirt. Just underneath, was the texture of a slightly stiffer type of fabric in the form of pants.

Bruce groaned, but pulled it out.

Now, the only thing getting in between his complete lack of an excuse was a private place to change into this outfit. This was a populated city, after all, not some kind of hiding-spot-ridden forest. Even a public bathroom would be difficult, seeing as his secret identity was such delicate information.

But, at the end of the day, having to change secretly like this was a dilemma he faced daily, if not hourly. Normally, he might try to have one piece of clothing underneath the other, for easiness purposes, but seeing as sometimes that wasn't an option anyway, he'd still had more than enough experiences to know that this wasn't going to end up being a valid excuse. Not towards the Justice League, and certainly not to himself.

Around twenty minutes later, he was standing in front of Talia, in civilian clothes and with his perfect excuse completely out of the realm of possibility. Yet again, he was quietly groaning to himself about it, but Talia, on the other hand, was quite pleased that things had worked themselves out. She held a small smile on her face –although one that was barely even visible– and, as if contrasting him, was nearly relaxed in posture. Not hunching, but not straight-spined, either.

Talia quickly took Bruce's hand, and together, they entered for the second time. By now, they were definitely late, which Bruce felt his hand clench at the thought of. Even if he did have a valid excuse for that, it bothered him to think that they might believe it was a purposeful delay in their meeting of Talia for even a brief second. For what must've been the millionth time that day, a gulp coursed through his itchy throat.

Nonetheless, once they found their way to the Justice League's table, he was quick to greet his friends, "Hello, Clark. Hello, Diana. Hello, Oliver, and Barry, and ..." Unfortunately, he was also quick to give up on greeting every single one, with his worrying having resulted in a slight fatigue.

"Hello, Bruce. Come sit next to me, we saved you and your wife spots." Clark greeted him back, instantly pointing to a couple chairs near him and Diana's. He patted the one closest to him with a quite eager kind of firmness. "We've been waiting for you, but Arthur already told the rest of us of your little… issue before, so it's fine. I'm the one that should've clarified."

Bruce slowly sat down, as did Talia.

Everyone's eyes were on her— despite there being less people than at the Justice League meeting, the staring on her was even more prominent now than the staring on him had been back there. Each eyeball looked like a marble, swelled and dilated with undying interest in every single word or movement or hers, which at that point, had been nearly none. They didn't even know her name or anything.

"Hello," Talia finally spoke. The eyes, already so captivated, widened with the greeting. With this movement, she was clearly starting to notice their overwhelming stares. Her eyebrows were furrowed, extremely unnerved by this strong behavior. She quickly turned to Bruce. "Beloved, can you introduce me to all your friends? I'm afraid it's difficult to speak to them when I don't know any of their names."

"Of course," Bruce nodded without hesitation, but was just as unnerved by their stares as she was. His eyes were wide and antsy, flickering open and closed just as quickly as they bounced around, changing what they were looking at constantly. "This is Clark. He's my…. My, eerm, closest…. Well, in basic terms, I generally spend the most time with him here. That's Arthur, Oliver, Barry, Dinah…Oh, and that's not to be confused with Diana, who's right over there and near Clark in the time I spend with her, and…"

Talia leaned her ear towards Bruce, listening carefully to every single one of the names. He leaned his mouth closer, as well, in a way that made their actions resemble a kind of distanced whispering, except with a completely normal speaking-level despite it. The restaurant was loud, bustling with activity at every corner, so it did well to make sure no names were misheard.

Once he'd finished, Talia nodded in return, "Thank you. It's nice to meet you all. Bruce has told me about, erm… some of you, so it's… nice to put a face to the name."

Bruce watched her say these words with his eyes now frozen in place. Deep inside the tissues of his chest, he could hear his heart beating faster and faster with each word, for seemingly no reason at all. But Bruce was certain that, with seemingly no warning, Talia could say something that ruined all his friendships in a matter of seconds. It wasn't her fault. It was his, truly, but it didn't mean he wasn't feeling a slight level of distrust in her at this moment.

This unfortunately continued for nearly every single sentence of hers throughout the conversation. Even a few words could destroy his friendships, too, if it was bad enough.

Fortunately for him, most of the conversations began with nothing but mere small talk, speaking of the weather in Star City, and what food they were thinking of ordering. Tones as dry as Bruce's thought, entwined in words and phrases as bland and meaningless as the glasses of water in front of them. Despite being an introvert, in this anxious situation, Bruce found himself comforted by these discussions; with every new relaxed, bland word, his body relaxed more. His heart almost calmed down for a second.

But they only lasted so long. They were anxious to learn more about Talia, of course— almost as anxious as he was about them doing so. Thus, his relaxation lasted about three calm minutes before his relaxing heartbeat suddenly sky-rocketed. Someone, from the other side of the table, asked her a question.

"Hey, um… you, over there. I don't think you ever told us your name."

An outstretched finger directly pointing to her was stuck up in the middle of the table, unwavering in its stance. Barry was the one holding it, looking at Talia in a way that was nothing but light-hearted. He was smiling in genuine curiosity. Bruce certainly didn't notice, though. Although merely a meaningless question in the grand scheme of things, it made his stomach knot up.

"Talia," she answered nonchalantly.

"Hello, Talia," A chorus of un-coordinated greetings filled the air, building off one another in a growingly loud volume. Nonetheless, these voices were accompanied by harmless grins and timid waves, all of which cleared out in a quick matter of time anyways. Talia smiled back, completely content with everything, as a matter of fact.

Then, just as Bruce was blowing out a gigantic, frantic gust of air in some attempt to collect his cool, they returned to the small talk. Now that she herself was here, Bruce found they were much more reserved– an observation that he was more than pleased by. No offensively overwhelming interrogations at all. He took another deep breath, this time succeeding in partially calming himself. Perhaps they truly would get through the evening without any catastrophe.

But, yet again, it was only a few minutes before there was another question about Talia hanging in the still air. Fortunately, it was also another fairly easy-to-answer one, with little to no secrets hiding in the shadowy details.

"Bruce. Talia," Diana abruptly cocked her head towards their direction, calling out their names to get them to lock eyes with her. "How did you two even meet? I've heard it was a while ago, but none of us know almost any of the details about how you two got… here. Married. I believe I'm probably not the only one who's a bit curious how you two originally found each other."

Before Talia could even open her mouth, Bruce answered for them, "Several years back, I was tracking down a criminal in another country, and I got knocked out and captured. When I awoke, Talia was in the same cell as me. She had apparently been abducted by the criminal as well, and was being held hostage at the time, so through a variety of fights, I saved her."

"I… I helped too," she frowned, crossing his arms in mild but obvious annoyance. "It was a team effort if I remember correctly, Beloved. You make me out like a damsel in distress."

Now, as he could feel these words and the implications held within them, was the moment when his heart truly went out of control. His chest, controlled by a rapid diaphragm, went up and down, up and down in a pattern so fast it hardly appeared to have any kind rhythm at all. On its own, they could know she was an excellent fighter, but they could not know the answers to the questions that would come alongside that knowledge.

Regardless, he let himself nod slightly, "Of course, Talia. You were very resourceful, which was certainly helpful to our escape. I apologize for minimizing that effort, considering you are completely and utterly right. The help you gave was extraordinarily impressive for an amateur such as yourself."

"Amateur?" Talia's jaw dropped in pure shock, clearly offended by the statement. "Amateur?"

"Yes. Compared to all the complex training I've had, at least," he forced himself to continue. Each blunt lie made his stomach twist tighter into its aching knot, but not nearly as much as Talia's own body winced at the words. It made her angry– clenching her fists, gritting her teeth– to an extent that left her almost fuming.

It made Bruce wince at his own words, in return, "You're, erm…. You're still excellent…You just–"

Talia whipped her body around, and in the same speedy movement, put a single finger to Bruce's lips. Although on a logical level, he knew she'd never dare do a thing to hurt him, Bruce had to admit the expression on her lips was certainly intimidating. It was a scowl, deepening with every seething breath.

"Sssh," she whispered in a purposefully raspy tone, eyes narrowed. "I shall show you, whether you like it or not, just how professional I am if you don't care to believe me. But I think we both know how that would end, so I would hush if I were you, Beloved… Although this'd be in sparring of course, so I wouldn't hurt you physically, please… Spare your ego."

Bruce's eyes did the opposite of hers, widening and raising in position. The pupils inside seemed to compress as well, thinning into just a small, oval-shaped dot right in the middle of his iris. Simultaneously, he pulled his neck backwards in a slightly cowardly manner, with his entire body shifted to face further away from her. Needless to say, her response was a little startling, especially when he was already filled with nerves.

But, only a second later, he pulled back against his original instincts; his neck straightened, eyes relaxed, and his body returned to the previous default. In fact, he now leaned into her, instead.

Bruce's body continued coming closer, until eventually, his hands softly cupped around her ear. A frantic, swift whisper tumbled from his mouth, with his lips nearly touching her ear the entire time. Gradually, his hands pulled even closer together in their cupping. Despite Talia not even trying to pull away, he held her head in place.

"They shouldn't— You can't—" Bruce stuttered, until eventually he sighed, letting that breath flow uncomfortably close to the inside of her ear. "We need to talk. Privately."

Without a single movement from her mouth or lips, Talia nodded to this request. She finally let her face loose its menacing expression, partially from a mere lay of tiredness of having to hold it up so long, but also partially from a slight assumption that her Beloved surely had to have some kind of explanation for this nonsense. He'd gotten protective of her due to the pregnancy, of course, but beside that, he knew full-well of her outstanding capabilities– or so she hoped, at least.

Thus, she followed him out and over to the bathroom.

"Beloved, what was that?" Talia questioned. Just because her scowl had dropped, did not mean she wasn't still very, very angry and endlessly offended. "I'm as professional as it gets, frankly."

"I know," Bruce nodded over and over and over again, as if it might make her forgive him for the entirety of his condescending and outright dishonest words. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it in a desperate attempt to soothe her anger. "I'm so, so sorry. You're completely right, and you can beat me in sparring as much as you want later for this…. Or, you can just beat me up because I'm obviously not about to lay a hand on a pregnant woman, but–"

Talia pulled her hand away from his, only to rest it on his mouth in a shushing gesture, "I know you wouldn't, and I understand why, but in this situation… you're not helping yourself by saying so, Beloved. Please." Bruce continued nodding, somehow getting even more extreme with them, to which Talia lowered her hand.

"I'm sorry," he was now bobbing his chin nearly high enough to point to the ceiling. "The point is, you can do whatever you wish to prove yourself a better fighter later, but right now, you need to pretend to be an amateur. I know that your dignity is at stake here, but there's a lot more than that on the table if you don't. You do realize what could happen if they find out you're an assassin, right?"

"Oh," Talia's eyes widened for a moment, but then shifted focus to the calming pattern of the bathroom floors. The white and grey tiles presented a blank canvas around her feet— the complete opposite of what he mind had become as she thought over Bruce's words. He had a point, as much as the self-righteous, hard-working martial artist and swordsman inside her hated to even consider it.

Bruce placed his hand loosely on the left side of her shoulder, "They… could arrest you. Especially if all they understood was your assassin career, not your specific morals."

She was still deeply frowning. Small pieces of evidence of her previous harsh scowl remained visible, but to Bruce's delight, at this point, her frown had mostly transformed from angry to disappointed and even mere thoughtful. He patted her shoulder a couple more times before she nudged his grip off and finally replied. Unlike before, her voice was completely and utterly calm.

"We all only do what we must then, I suppose," she shrugged. Her hand swiftly took Bruce's and the two went back to holding hands, with Talia securely twisting his fingers around her own. "Come along, Beloved."

Bruce sighed, "Thank you for understanding."

She nodded, and they exited the bathroom hand-in-reluctantly-loving-hand. It looked picture perfect (or so Bruce hoped) to the Justice League, relentlessly affectionate and gloriously, undeniably normal. The first was completely true, of course, even if they currently weren't in the best mood with each other, but the latter was the real struggle. All the recent staring had made him self-conscious of it, which only made him nervous and fidgety in ways that were yet again not normal.

At the current moment, that was exactly what he was doing; itching at his arms, twirling his fingers, and tugging at the cuffs of his shirt.

Meanwhile, Talia had forced even the slightest bit of resentment from the earlier condescending remarks to disappear like they'd never existed in the first place. To emphasize it even more, she made her smile bright, displaying her teeth like trophies in the flickering artificial light. It made the corners of her lips feel sore, ever so slightly, but that certainly didn't stop her.

"I'm sorry. I believe there was just some… miscommunication," she explained cheerfully, saying the words with minimal hesitation. Bruce appeared to have forgotten that when she was trying, Talia wasn't exactly a bad liar.

"Yes," he instantly agreed with her. Smiling wouldn't work on him, though, so he kept blank to hold up his grumpy reputation. "Talia and I talked, and we've still come to the consensus that she is still an amateur, but not to worry— a very, very good amateur at that, of course. She's just not, you know…" He held back from finishing the sentence in such a public environment.

Talia's smile was starting to fade with the unfounded statements, but nonetheless, she forced her chin into a tense, unnatural nod.

"O….kay," Diana slowly processed the vague conclusions and the suspicious journey to get to them. It was more than clear how skeptical it made her, with one eyebrow raised significantly higher than the other one. "That's… good. That you two are finally agreeing about her skill level now."

In unison, both of them nodded. From each of their peripheral vision, they eyed each other, not in a way of glaring, but in the complete opposite. They looked to each other unsurely, as if signaling for some kind of psychic communication to discuss and answer those large, overbearing uncertainties pondering both of their minds. But this staring was quickly interrupted by another Justice League member's quick, curious question– to which they searched for a quick, curious answer for.

"If she's not a… well, you know, then what is it that she does? Even if she's a civilian, like it sounds like she is, then surely she must have some kind of job. What do you do for a living, Talia?" was the question. It came from the left of them, spouting out of Clark's frowning mouth.

"Oh, I…." Talia stuttered. It was the same dilemma as before, it became clear. Talia could not get arrested, and so, could most definitely not afford to give even a mildly truthful answer. It was imagination against the passing time at this point.

Bruce also had wheels turning in his head, just in case he could interrupt and answer for her— not only out of practicality, but to swipe the stress off of her and their unborn child as quickly as possible. Underneath the table, where no one could see or judge, he tapped his fingers together in a thoughtful gesture. Speaking of their unborn child, he was also just waiting for them to bring her visibly-dilated belly up, although hoping they could possibly be too polite for those accusations. Not that he was counting on it, at all. The wheels in his brain turned just as fast with possible answers to that situation.

Eventually, he came up with something, "She's a… doctor. She works at Gotham General Hospital most of the time, but sometimes also works with just simple out-clinics." It wasn't a complete lie, after all, but simple and easy enough for them to fully believe.

Unfortunately for him, even though a perfectly good answer in and of itself, Talia just so happened to come up with something at the exact same time. Their mouths both opened and spoke at the same time right down to the nanosecond, copying over one another's words in a manner that was not just confusing from the overlapping, but from the contradicting answers, as well. Everyone at the table's eyebrows immediately rose.

"I work as an animal-trainer and scientist at an animal rescue research-zoo combo center, sometimes also working as a martial arts teacher in my free time. That's why I thought myself to be at least somewhat professional, even if as my Beloved explained, I don't specifically have the experience of using my martial arts skills in… that kind of way." Talia had said.

"Okay," Clark looked from Bruce to Talia, back and forth. Slowly, he found himself nodding to both of their statements. "I take it that Talia, here, works part-time at a zoo, part-time as a doctor, and also part-time as a martial arts teacher…" From the uncertainty in his words, though, he clearly did not believe a word that came out of his mouth.

Bruce and Talia, on the other hand, both nodded with forced confidence. Talia pushed her previous large grin back on to her face. Neither action seemed to help in the slightest, though, with Clark still giving them a puzzled look in return.

"Great Scott, your life must be unimaginably hectic and busy! I'm sincerely surprised you had time to come visit us. Or even get married, for that matter."

Talia continued nodding, "It is. But I happened to have a break just at this right time, just like the fates wanted this to all work out. It's really wonderful to think about it– the fact that it all just wildly happened to work out. I'm incredibly happy it did, though. This has already been wonderful." The smile kept growing until the soreness came back.

"Good," Clark let out a smile, too, and luckily, his skepticism was beginning to fade.

Their food arrived after only a moment longer, breaking up any lingering awkwardness. Everyone was quickly swept up in trying the dishes, completely focused on that instead of bothering to question Talia and Bruce's ridiculous answers or ask them another difficult-to-answer question. Talia was quick to relax due to this, focusing her own attention to the food, as well. Bruce, on the other hand, with his general nature, was not.

"Mmmm," Talia slid the spoon into her mouth, instantly pleased. Bruce did so, as well, but was silent in reaction. The food was good, but not good enough to force him to express any kind of joy in this solemn, constantly-worrisome moment. Nonetheless, tons of the other people were repeating Talia's delighted sounds and exclamations, leaving Bruce alone in his frown, but as per usual, they hardly noticed the stark contrast at all.

For a good few minutes, everyone simply kept slurping up their food with great-but-bland excitement. These kinds of things made Bruce roll his eyes, which he was not about to hold back, but either way, they were a distraction. That, on the other hand, helped him relax, if only slightly. Eventually, they even made it back to the small talk, giving him even more time to relax. Overall, he got nearly a full fifteen minutes of a mix of small talk and simply unrelated discussion and topics before anything else nerve-wrecking happened.

But when it happened, it certainly happened significantly.

Yet, the discussion started off just as normally and dully as any of the other ones, if not more. The server had come around, asking if any of them wished to have a little something to drink— one member, most likely Clark, had generously bought the group a bottle of wine to share, and thus, it was being offered around to each and every person at the table.

That included Talia. Normally, it would mean nothing at all. Normally, she'd say yes most likely, or even if she said no, it still wouldn't have meant anything, either. But, as Bruce peered down at her belly nervously, he knew this would not be that time. It wasn't about her being an assassin, of course, but that did not mean it couldn't possibly destroy his friendships in a matter of seconds.

Unsurprisingly, when the server swiveled his head around to look directly at Talia in an offering gesture, she shook her head immediately. Then, just as unsurprisingly, her eyes glanced downward, vaguely close to where the baby's womb sat within her. A joyful, soft expression took over her face as she spoke her yet again expected, delicate answer— and from Bruce's perspective, quite a painful one.

"No thank you," she said. Her words were not loud, but they were certainly not quiet, either; everyone in remotely close vicinity could hear every single revealing, shocking word, even through the quite calm tone. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce buried his head in his hands, feeling not just his face, but his entire body become hot and bright red in overwhelming embarrassment.

Talia shifted herself to face him in response to the large movement, but her gaze was nothing compared to everyone else's speechlessly surprised stares at her, and even more boldly, the swelled belly below her. Her hands were softly wrapped around it protectively, quickly noticing the looks. Her own expression was starting to turn just as embarrassed as Bruce's, although not as extreme movement-wise.

"You're…. Pregnant?" At least four different people asked at the exact same time. Clark was definitely one of them, as was Diana, but Bruce was far too upset to even bother sorting out the other speakers.

Talia kept her eyes and head downward in a self-conscious manner, but slowly and uncertainly nodded. Every few seconds, she glanced upwards, though, just to give Bruce a frustrated, confused, and even slightly angry expression. He evaded looking back, though, already able to sense those strong, piercing emotions on the back of his neck. Even when he started forcing his body to pull itself up from the hunch, he kept his eyes from shifting to that dreaded corner.

"Privacy," Bruce spoke the word as if it was new and fresh to the listeners' ears, but in a condescending way, as if it was still old as any other to his own. His previous forced confidence was quickly flooding back into every element of his position. "I, as do the rest of you, and even more than that, Talia, deserve privacy. Friends, best friends, or even family are all well and good, but no matter who you are, privacy is a, erm… constitutional right."

Clark shook his head nonetheless, "That doesn't mean we're not allowed to be a little hurt that, on top of the whole getting married situation, you also didn't mention a single thing about how you're expecting a little baby. Even after we expressed our feelings about the first thing! It's not that– I mean– Bruce, my friend, please–"

There he was, getting emotional again. Bruce's eyes softened for a second, only to later become annoyed. He rolled them.

"Talia's the one that's pregnant." Bruce explained, sighing in a purposefully loud volume. He leaned into the table to look at Clark more directly, forcing them to make an eye contact so strong that both of them felt silently uncomfortable. "She doesn't know any of you. It would be rude of me to give out her health information without consent, after all."

"Then," Diana pointed out calmly, "Ask her for that consent."

"That would be rude, too." Bruce replied, quickly crossing his arms. He held his chin high in a way that was growing less and less confident and more and more stuck-up, with his frown also growing more and more into a pout. "She still doesn't know you. Why should she let strangers know of her intricate health information? And you want me to pressure her, too? Shameful."

A very similarly exasperated expression took over nearly every single person's face, other than Bruce's, including Talia's own. Bruce kept his own the same, pretending to not notice or care, but inside, he timidly gulped.

"That's a very unfair way of describing the very insignificant thing we're asking. We're not strangers to you, and you trust us, even if she doesn't necessarily." Diana reasoned, gesturing around with her palms facing the ceiling openly. "It's not like we're asking to know the details, either. We'd just be interested to know –Clark and I specifically, not even the less familiar members of course– when you're having giant, life-altering events in your life. Like, say, getting married… or having a baby…"

Talia sighed, "Beloved. I literally wouldn't have had a single issue with you telling them if you'd just, as they suggested, asked."

Meanwhile, the server was still there, standing right in front of Talia, watching the entire conversation go down awkwardly. His body was completely frozen in place, too unsure to make another move or go, but also too unsure to try to continue what his job from before. His arm was starting to get exhausted from holding up the order writing-pad and bottle of wine for so long. With this getting worse and worse, he eventually came up with the courage to interrupt.

"Hi, um…. I'm sorry, but could I possibly ask you whether you'd like any wine?" He was looking at J'onn now, who nonverbally signaled a gentle rejection of the offer.

Despite the fact that on a technical level, Bruce had been next, it seemed that was a person the waiter was purposely avoiding. This just made Bruce more annoyed, while also much, much more self-conscious. He finally took a deep breath and let the overdone confidence and stubbornness slip into neutral expressions, although still not loosening his body position otherwise.

"F…ine," he let out with that slow, calming breath. "I'm sorry."

Fortunately, this seemed to work well enough to calm the other member's nerves and frustrations, as well as Talia's. Their expressions softened slightly, as did their crisply tense muscles and clenched fists. They still weren't happy at all, but they were beginning to forgive and forget, it seemed.

Thus, he forced his mouth to continue, "If it means that much to you all, and if I'm upsetting you so much, I guess I can… try to get a little better about communicating and sharing important moments in my life." But suddenly, he started to pout again, changing the tone in a second. "Only you two, though. Not the entire league. I still need some boundaries and privacy, after all."

Clark nodded, "Thanks for at least making an effort now, Bruce."

Then, the cheerful, comfortingly bland tone took back up. Even if the lack of information was certainly an annoyance to Clark and Diana, beneath, they were overjoyed to hear that Bruce was going to have a baby. In fact, everyone there was quick and content with their 'congratulations'. Overall, everything was quite happy again. Everyone was happy again, specifically.

Including the waiter. He was finally able to comfortably ask the rest of the group, including Bruce, and swiftly move on to his next table.

"When's the due date?" Oliver asked, with his eyebrows raised curiously. He looked very directly at Talia, eyes locked with hers as he spoke the small, casual question. "Or, what month will it probably be in, if you don't know or don't want to give the specifics yet. Or even if that is too much for Bruce privacy-crazy Wayne, do you have any name ideas?"

Talia answered quickly but calmly, "The baby is going to be born around July or possibly late June, depending on how early or late the baby decides to start fighting its way out. But personally, I haven't given much of a thought to baby names yet. We still have plenty of time to decide at this point, of course. I'm only, I believe now around…. Four months in? We definitely have time."

"I've been thinking about it," Bruce stated the second she finished. "Even if we haven't really discussed it yet, I have plenty of ideas, Talia…. Or, well, I have one for male and one for female. Good ones, though. In fact, you don't really need to bother thinking it over yourself, Talia, because I'm sure we'll both agree to these." His tone was nearly monotonous through every word and sentence, but well-dictated nonetheless.

"What… are they?" Talia tilted her body in his direction, looking towards him in half curiosity, and half mild confusion. She waited patiently for his answer, which he hesitated no more than a second before saying.

"Martha," he answered, still in a strong monotone, "or Thomas."

"Oh," Talia's eyes widened at the quite familiar names, which he already talked about constantly without them even needing to have a baby named such things. She considered the concept of them, biting her lip as she did so. Her necklace, which strung low on her neck, felt cold against her fingers as she fiddled around with it aimlessly.

"Of course," Oliver mumbled from the other side of the table. His eyes widened slightly as well, although not nearly to the same extent as Talia's did. Clark and Diana's eyes did the same as his, while everyone at the table processed the obvious meaning behind those names— the very depressing, but also undeniably endearing, meaning.

As this was happening Talia slowly gave Bruce her hand. She gently slid it underneath his, wrapping her fingers around the middle of his palm. Then, she began to squeeze it; her grip was secure, and very heavy, but careful to still leave his hand enough space to rest comfortably. At this point, everyone had nearly completely forgotten about his previous actions and secret-keeping, replacing any annoyed expressions with looks of pure sympathy. Pity, Bruce worried some were.

"Beloved, I….Well…. that's a good idea. Those are good names," Talia reassured, squeezing his hand another time, but a kind of heistance was still more than clear. "We should probably look into more names than just that, though, of course. We can… think about it more, over these next few months. Maybe look through some baby names, to see one that has a good meaning, or a good ring to it. Something the baby will enjoy carrying with them. Which… your parents names could already serve as, of course, if that's… well…" Talia had begun to stutter.

"Hmmm?" Bruce quietly hummed a questioning sound.

"Oh, nothing. They're perfectly good names, and they mean a lot to you, and that's… sweet." Talia shrugged, "But I just think that, perhaps, once we get home we should talk about whether or not that's maybe… too much. For you." For the third time, her grip on his hand strictly tightened.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked, finally opening his mouth again to verbally express his questioning emotions. He considered pulling his hand away from hers dramatically, but eventually found it pointless to do so, seeing as she still hadn't even answered. "That's not too much. Nothing with the memory of my wonderful parents could be 'too much'."

"Of course not," Talia smiled and nodded, only to then shake her head, "But this is… our baby's permanent name. Forever. That you'll be calling them. Forever."

Now was the moment that Bruce went through with his original idea of dramatically pulling his hand away. He crossed his arms and tucked it between them firmly, away from where Talia could reach or grab or futilely attempt to comfort. Despite this, though, he stayed fairly calm in tone when he replied. A little annoyed, sure, but still calm enough to not spark any concerns on Talia's side.

"No, they're the perfect names and there's no question about it. I don't know what you're thinking anymore, Talia. What could you possibly have against it?"

"Beloved, I…." she stuttered, feeling itches creep at the back of her neck. Talia now went straight back to fiddling around with her smooth, cold necklace pendants. "I just think that maybe dedicating your entire life to two people is maybe…. Enough? Forever? Even if they're your parents? It's not that the names are out of the—"

"Um, excuse me," Bruce interrupted. He somehow crossed his arms even tighter, huffing at her as he did so. "But my parents' names are literally the best names in the world. Did you even hear me? Thomas? Martha? Aren't they just beautiful? Don't they just fit our beautiful perfect endlessly happy future baby perfectly? As I already said before, Talia, you must be out of your mind if you think otherwise. Have you been feeling okay?" His expression quickly transformed into genuine worry with this last question. He not only let her take his hand again, but nudged her over to do so.

"Yes, I've… been feeling very good lately, actually. Very minimal morning sickness."

"Hmm," Bruce considered. His eyebrows instantly furrowed severely, and in the same motion, he leaned towards her protectively. "Could that be a bad sign somehow? Isn't a certain degree of those side effects normal and expected? I don't know about this. It really seems like maybe—"

"As the one with the medical license here," she repeated from their previous conversation. "No."

But fortunately for Bruce, that firm statement was quickly accompanied by a developing smile on Talia's face. As if she didn't quite think it was funny, and certainly not enough to laugh, but amusing enough to give her a light-hearted smile. Seeing this, Bruce started to feel it rub off on him; a developing smile was creeping onto his own face, as well, although much slower and more reserved than Talia's. Instead of continuing to argue, he planted a small kiss on her right cheek.

"Sorry. I need to stop worrying so much about it, I know. I just don't want anything bad happening to you… or the baby… you know that," he whispered. It was a loud whisper, granted, but still low enough to keep anyone too far away from processing any of his words. "But I'm working on it. I promise, and… well, it's probably best that I wait to convince you to officially go with Martha and Thomas until we're home, in better privacy.

"Of course," she replied happily, and his exaggerated confidence only made her amusement grow. Thus, her smile widened, and likewise, so did her husband's. They looked into each other's eyes lovingly, with their hands still firmly locked together in affection. It was a wonderfully positive, light-hearted sight, with all evidence of the previous argument disappearing.

Unfortunately, just like at the Justice League meeting, Bruce's smile was met with many less than content looks from his teammates.

Regardless, they went on with the dinner as usual. The topic quickly steered away from Talia and her relationship with Bruce now that they'd begun to get to know her, and instead, Arthur finally got to share his fish stories. Talia was a little confused, to say the least, but she kept quiet despite the many questions about how and why he was communicating with fish pondering her mind

Eventually, they also strayed from that topic, and the topic after that. Everyone had a good time, and a quite talkative time, but even more importantly than that, Bruce was starting to relax again. He'd gotten over the worst of it with Talia, it seemed. His friends had forgiven him. With every breath, this knowledge got lodged deeper and deeper into his brain, letting them get slower and smoother through his lungs. His guard was starting to fall, as well, if only a little. Then, he started to genuinely enjoy himself just the slightest bit. Not much, but even a slight bit was a surprise in this situation.

Until another lie came up, that was. Then, his breathing outright stopped, and his heart rate got faster and faster with every single one of the doomed words. It was casual, though. Bothersomely casual.

"Wow, time flies when you're having fun, right?" Clark peered through his dark brown-rimmed glasses at his watch, strapped on the end of his left wrist. "It's almost time for the bowling already. I guess we should probably start working on our last bites of dessert and get a move on. We don't want to run out of time there. It only stays open so long after dinner time, after all."

Talia's reaction, though discrete, was certainly there. She opened her mouth to speak, of course, but then opened it even wider than necessary to display a bit of surprise. Her eyes fluttered wide, as well, only to then squint in mild confusion. Bruce was staring at her this entire time, noticing every one of these quiet movements, and his own expression mimicked it. In fact, it was possibly even more surprised than hers.

"Oh," she commented. Her tone did not sound upset, fortunately, but Bruce found his body shaky from even the first word regardless. "I didn't realize there was anything other than this dinner. That's all Bruce mentioned. But, I suppose we didn't talk about it too much, so I can't really blame him for the lack of a warning. Besides, going bowling doesn't sound like a bad thing…"

For a moment, she considered these words. Her eyes squinted even more.

"Actually, I don't think I've ever been bowling," she admitted. Her pupils drifted to the side of her eyes, spontaneously peering to a wall. "It should be an interesting enough experience."

On its own, that reaction was fine, Bruce knew. Better than expected, if anything. But now it was the Justice League, especially Clark, who had to react to these statements— the ones that he had very bluntly, explicitly contradicted only a few days earlier. Needless to say, their expressions resembled more than just confusion. Any suppressed lingering frustration from the other secrets revealed earlier that conversation was spilling back out like an over-filled drink, filling the room with a kind of thick tension.

Clark's eyebrows furrowed, "Bruce."

It was said loudly and firmly, as if a signal of attention, yet even before it, Bruce had already had his eyes silently locked on Clark's. It carried much more than a call, of course, especially as their eye contact stayed so strong. Bruce kept rolling his eyes, over and over again, to distract Clark. Nonetheless, Clark's eyes narrowed in deep frustration, not at all taken back.

"Hmph," was the only verbal answer it seemed Clark would get from Bruce, and even it was barely audible above the restaurant's bustling noise.

After a few more seconds, Clark repeated himself, this time even louder, "Bruce. I think we both, as well as everyone else sitting at this table, know what's going on here. Especially you, actually. I think, probably, that's why you're rolling your eyes right now. You know what I'm talking about." Then, he leaned slightly closer to his friend. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Alright, fine," Bruce grumbled. It was still barely audible, but at least fuller than his previous nonsensical noises. "Maybe, just maybe, I exaggerated the situation between Talia and bowling. She doesn't… actively dislike bowling, but she also doesn't like it, of course. Hardly a lie, if you ask me."

"That's… because I've never actually tried it… Beloved," Talia intersected. She crossed her arms, though very loosely– too tired to be overly firm with these constant frustrations. "I haven't exactly been given the chance to like it or dislike it, have I?"

"I… suppose if you try to look at it in a way that is biased against me, you could argue such a thing. If you thought about it too hard," he said, still grumbly in tone.

"I am saying this as the person you were… erm, fibbing about. What you said wasn't true. I wouldn't ever say that I disliked bowling, just that I had absolutely no experience… Which I've also never even told you. We've never talked about bowling with each other in our lives!" She exclaimed, letting her voice quickly rise in volume. "That was just a lie… to get out of going to this in the first place, I assume."

Abruptly, Bruce grabbed her hand out of its crossing, and held it tightly. So tightly, in fact, that it was obviously out of very little affection and more out of the mere desire to hold, in general. With his other hand, he reached behind one of Talia's ears. Simultaneously, he quickly leaned over mouth-first to whisper several rapidly-spoken, frantic sentences into the middle of her ear.

"Talia, Love, can you calm down and stop treating this like it was morally incorrect of me to do? I understand you have to make yourself seem as least suspicious as possible, but the way you're talking is only going to encourage their suspicions on me." he asked. "I obviously had no choice but to tell them those lies, considering at the time, the goal was for none of this to happen."

"But I want to go bowling," she complained in return, "and you're taking away this opportunity." They'd switched roles now, with her gently cupping her hands around his ear and talking into it, instead.

"That is not worth making me out to be worse than I am, Talia." His already-stark frown was deepening by every millisecond. "To put together a proper lie, especially when you're doing it with a companion like in this scenario, it's absolutely vital that you encourage them to think as lowly of everyone involved's suspicion as possible. What you're doing here is taking away from our entire plan, as well as making the–"

"I was… also genuinely upset with you, Beloved."

"Why?" One of Bruce's eyebrows immediately stuck up in a mix of confusion and a slightly offended expression. They were still holding hands, so he decided to discreetly pull his own hand away, if only a couple centimeters. "I was just trying to help keep everything at peace here, and that would generally mean desperately avoiding confrontations at all costs. Do you want them finding out that you're one of the FBI's most wanted, or not?"

"I'm actually not very high on the list," she corrected. The switching was getting a little bizarre now, with their swiftly-swiveling heads and necks, as well as the rapidly-dropping arms and uncurling fingers. It was getting tiring, as well, but still certainly not tiring enough for them to suddenly stop. Thus, Talia curled her fingers over his outer ear even more. "My father simply is, and I suppose I could be considered guilty by association."

"That's not very fair," Bruce quickly changed the conversation– a conscious, purposeful choice of his, even. Talking about his little whites lies was certainly not a very pleasant conversation for him, and this was definitely a good way to avoid it (just like he'd very unsuccessfully avoided this whole dinner). "You didn't choose to be his daughter, after all."

"Well, from the FBI's perspective, even if I didn't choose my blood relation to such a criminal, I did 'choose to work for him'." Talia explained, "But even that, considering what a young age I started working for him, and just the… general situation, is arguably still untrue."

"Plenty of people choose to work for him. Thousands, I'm guessing." Bruce pointed out, still persistent in both changing the topic, and genuinely defending Talia against the law enforcement's extreme views. "But you, I'm sure, are singled out merely for that blood relation. The majority of his other employee's have no-doubt committed worse, or at least more frequent, crimes than you have."

Clark, Diana, and the rest of the Justice League members surrounding them had already been suspicious enough from the lying, and to Bruce's dismay, him and Talia's constant whispering was doing very little to help the matter at hand. Although much too invested in the conversation to notice too many of them, Bruce was getting tons of increasingly-upset expressions from his teammates.

They continued anyway.

Talia nodded, "It's my power in the League, I'm guessing. I may have less blood on my hands than many of them, but I also know a lot more intricate details about my father and his plans than they would." Bruce nodded, but still didn't have them switch again, so she continued. "Knowledge is power, of course, regarding both my status and the FBI's own abilities. If they were to capture me, like they want to so badly, they could possibly wreck the entire organization– provided that they somehow managed to get me to crack and spill the information they would need. And, they can of course justify this under the premise that 'murder is murder' even if the amount and type of victims vary."

Bruce kept listening and listening, until she eventually temporarily ran out of thoughts on the topic and naturally came to a bit of a pause. Now, he ceased in his own nodding, and turned to face her. His eyes met hers, and with this clear cue, she let her cupped-hands instantly drop. Then, just like every other time, he swiftly responded.

"They do have a point," Bruce stated, "Killing is always very wrong, even if the focus is a bit arbitrary considering you're definitely not one of the worst killers out there."

Despite some possible bit of offense on Talia's side, that statement itself was all well and good. His wording was fine, the topic was related, and it made his point quick and clear to his one listener. Except, of course, that it was not one listener he had anymore– in fact, he had at least eight. Everyone at the table, to be exact.

Somehow, in their grand scheme of whispering and swiveling heads, Bruce had gotten just a little too tired of it, and somehow, as he listened to Talia's long answer, he'd completely forgotten about it altogether. Therefore, somehow, he'd ended up announcing Talia to be a 'killer' in front of every single one of his friends.

At this point, the Justice League giving him weird looks would be a gross understatement. They sat in rageful awe.

"Wow, that sounded terrible out of context," he quickly remarked, in some desperate attempt to soften the blow. Talia put on a small nervous smile, as well, but less to agree with him and more out of sincerely timid emotions. Bruce, on the other hand, simply forced himself to keep calm. "I'm sorry, we were just talking about the edicate of a certain… What do the children call it? Niche video game? Indie?"

"Whatever the word is," she instantly agreed, though still keeping her awkward expression. "It's a game where you can kill people, but just like in real life, if they are your allies or friends, it's considered quite... dishonorable. Although, unlike real life, where killing is very, very morally incorrect and none of us would ever do it…. Especially me, may I add… killing your enemies is a simple, necessary aspect of the game. My Beloved was simply stating that, regarding your own allies, killing is always very wrong. You'd need the context."

Diana facepalmed, "And some people say Clark's methods of secret-keeping are absolutely ridiculous."

"At least they work," Clark muttered to himself, but the second he'd finished speaking those first few words, he abruptly heightened his voice to directly speak to Bruce and Talia. "This, on the other hand, is never going to work. I know you think we're gullible, Bruce, but this? Really? You think we're not a little suspicious of the fact that you've been coming up with half-baked lies this entire dinner, and then, when you explicitly describe your wife as a murderer, you come up with an even less-baked lie."

"Are we really going to do this?" Bruce asked, forcing exaggerated frustration and annoyance into his voice. "Frankly, I'm offended that you assume everything I say is a lie. That's much worse than whatever 'suspicious' behaviors you think I'm exhibiting. People say that I'm the one that's distrustful, but it seems like it's pretty obviously you."

"Bruce, please. Video games? You?"

"My wife got me into them. I'm just trying to make her happy, alright? It's a multiplayer game and she didn't have anyone to play with. What was I supposed to do? Just leave her hanging?" Bruce swiftly fibbed. Fortunately, his lies finally started to get a bit more smooth– or the defensive excuses for them, at least. "Besides, Dick also likes to play it, so I already knew some about it from him."

Unfortunately for him, from the other side of the table, a deep voice spoke. As if things weren't bad enough, as he spoke, J'onn slowly began to raise his fingers to the sides of his temples and firmly tapped.

"I'm getting tired of this," he loudly announced, tapping his forehead a couple more times. "Normally, I would refrain from breaking anyone's privacy who wasn't a supervillain, but… I believe we're all starting to doubt that second part already." Then, with those last words haunting Bruce's mind, he shut his eyes.

"Go ahead," Bruce quickly suggested, "read… my mind. I have nothing to hide." In a completely opposite action, he instantly began to mediate himself into putting up a blank mind trick for Martian Manhunter to see instead. At the same time, he still watched J'onn carefully, begging him to follow his words.

"Alright,"

For a second, Bruce sighed. For no more than that second, though. The next, he found himself struggling to make even the shakiest of breaths. J'onn was not finished agreeing— not at all.

"But, since I assume then neither of you have anything to hide, I'm going to stick to just reading your wife's direct mind. She's the one we're most suspicious of, after all." he said, with his eyes still tightly shut and his mind still deeply focused. "Which I'm sure will not be a problem, since according to you, there's nothing sinister, secretive, or otherwise suspicious going on here at all."

Talia immediately spun her head around to look at Bruce. Her eyes were wide but still, staring at him in petrified worry. As much as he tried not to, seeing as it would only hurt them, Bruce found himself returning that terrified look back at her. Surely she knew some kinds of meditation that she could use to slightly clear her mind, but specific mind-blocking ones he doubted, especially considering that reaction. The League of Assassins rarely fought any kind of meta-humans at all, and certainly not telepaths.

Bruce was really starting to regret pushing away the idea of even attempting to teach her a simple mind-trick of two.

Talia was instinctively trying the meditation, though. It was better than nothing, after all. Each breath going in and out was slow and calculated, and internally, she frantically attempted to use that calmness to think about nothing but those breaths. Unfortunately, with the worries still escalating by the second, all it achieved was her thinking about why she was doing this meditation in the first place.

Martian Manhunter got his answer almost instantaneously upon entering her mind, and he was not pleased.

He opened his eyes, and dropped his arms and tapping fingers, as well as his entire focused state. As he spoke his next sentence, he barely managed to stay calm; the anger, shock, and overwhelming disappointment in his voice battled against each other to make a perfectly default volume, though. Similarly, it came out as an almost bland, dull monotone from that same overwhelming mix of emotions.

"From what I can see, your wife," he declared, "is a professional assassin."

"—In the video game? Of course I am. But fiction is very, very different from reality. Surely none of you are foolish enough to genuinely believe otherwise." Talia corrected, frowning. "I'm sorry for any of the miscommunication that has gone down tonight, but that doesn't mean you can accuse me of murder over it. It's not my fault I happened to be thinking a lot about the video game when you decided to read my mind."

But the entire Justice League was already staring (and glaring) at her, absolutely speechless.

"I'm not that bad of a mind-reader, Miss." J'onn sighed, before quickly hardening his expression at her into much more clear, obvious anger. His voice rose. "You are Talia al Ghul, daughter, employee, and second-in-command to the international mass-murdering supervillain by the name Ra's al Ghul. It's quite difficult for you to hide your entire life, isn't it?"

She sighed in defeat, "...yes,"

Clark got up, and then Diana got up, and then everyone began to get up, still glaring harshly at Talia. She took several deep breaths, but was clearly struggling to stay calm with this entire Superhero team suddenly on her back, without the least warning or time for preparation. She now got up herself, only to take a few fumbling steps backwards, so distracted that she nearly tripped on her chair.

Talia opened her mouth again nervously, half just stalling, "You might be surprised to learn, considering how confident you are of your telepathic skills, that what you just said is partially untrue, though. You described me as his second in command, which I am certainly not, despite my familial connection to him."

"I… don't think that, on its own, is really going to help with—" Bruce started to whisper, only to be swiftly interrupted.

"Actually, now I'm curious," J'onn's eyes narrowed and squinted slightly in reserved but distinct curiosity. Now, he was standing, with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, but his voice and tone had become surprisingly normal despite it. "If not you, who possibly would be the second-in-command? Does he have some kind of friend, or just a fellow highly-skilled assassin?"

"My husband," Talia pointed to Bruce, who was already bright red in embarrassment.

"WHAT?!" Clark, without missing a beat, exclaimed. He stomped right over to look Bruce directly in the eyes. "Let me get this straight— You, my closest friend in the entire world and solar system, are working for and with Ra's 'murder all humanity' al Ghul, as his second-in-command of all things?!"

He spoke these extremely concerning words loud. Very loud, in fact. Bruce had already been worried enough when he realized that everyone at that table was going to learn about Talia's criminal deeds, but the second he'd realized that would likely expand to the entire restaurant, his fear was unimaginable. Though the expressions were mixed (fear, confusion and anger being the main three), everyone in that room was eyeing them.

"I can explain—"

"Can you?" Clark countered. He kept getting angrier and angrier by the second, with his eyebrows slanted downward at Bruce, and his fists tense. "This is a serious betrayal! He's not just any old enemy, he's a full-fledge, world-threatening, extremely murderous and absolutely pure evil supervillain! You can't just come up–"

"Excuse me," Talia poked her finger upwards as she interrupted his angry words. Then, as everyone finally looked at her, she tightly crossed her arms and stuck her chin up high. "My father is not world-threatening. He is humanity-threatening. Technically, he's never tried to hurt the earth itself, and in fact, quite loves the planet and everything on it… except humans. But even then, he's not 'murder all humanity', he's 'murder nine-tenths of–"

"Talia, please," Bruce reached around the right side of Clark, weaving his hands until they gently touched the tip of Talia's. With this touch, he attempted to calm her. "You're really, really not helping."

"Is this your type, Batman?! People who defend not just murder, but near omnicide?" Clark asked accusingly. "Because if so, you have a very bad type, and I know I said before that I'd help you find a new date if you ever ended up lonely and single, but honestly? This…. I don't think I can work with whatever this is."

"That's alright, I'm already married without any help needed." Bruce shrugged, only to then tense up again. "But you know what it isn't alright?"

"What? The fact that you willingly joined a supervillain just because you thought his daughter was very attractive?!" Clark boomed. His face was scrunched up in a way that was half intimidating, and half just looked like he was about to start tearing up. "You're right, it's not alright. We thought you were a genuinely good person, Bruce, but now… I'm really starting to doubt that, okay? Was your non-killing rule even a real thing?"

"I… was actually more thinking the fact that you're spilling everyone's secret identities, but sure."

"Oh," Clark finally looked around himself. His cheeks began to heavily blush until, with the more he observed, his entire face had the heavy red tint covering it. Everyone was still very much staring and many were even slightly listening. They were already completely and utterly screwed, far before Bruce got the slightest chance to make a comment on it. The same extreme look of worry that had been often plaguing Bruce and Talia's faces quickly came over his own.

The poor waiter had come back to check on them again, hoping they were still calm like when he'd left, but now, he stood in even more shock and discomfort than with the previous argument. The situation between Superman and Batman was clearly bothering him, but nowhere near the fact that he'd also overheard their conversations on Talia— he stared at her, but once she'd returned the glare, he immediately twisted his head back to completely miss her. The server was absolutely terrified.

"Beloved, I, erm… think we should probably get going?" Talia suggested, glancing around herself anxiously. Her arms were wrapped around her body, squeezing the other side's shoulders and rubbing up and down the opposing forearms. "I'd rather avoid dealing with… any of this. At all. Your quite angry friends, the confused crowds, the… just everything."

"So would I," Bruce agreed, but he neglected to nod or move an inch towards the door. His eyes were glued on the people around them, now tilting away from Clark. A few of those people were starting to look a little bit angry, as well. "But… I think we have to. They heard us, and I'm certain even when I walked in, plenty of them recognized me as the celebrity I am."

Clark took several feet away from Bruce. He was doing the same as Talia; glancing around, scanning the other tables for hints and social cues, and doing so in swift nerves. His face was still very, very red, but as their fates settled deeper and deeper into his thoughts, it began to fade. Hopelessness at its finest, no doubt. Yet, on the other hand, his redness did nothing to spark hope either– it just emphasized the suspicions for the spectators. This in mind, Clark took his eyes off those spectators, and looked to Bruce. He put a firm, grasping hand on the man's lower left shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Clark gulped, hardly noticing the movement. "As much as I think your wife needs her crimes revealed and to be punished so she won't take any more lives, I guess I got a little too caught up in being angry. I forgot we were in public, and I definitely, definitely forgot to control my voice and words accordingly."

"It doesn't matter now— apologies aren't going to clean this up for us."

"I'm not sure there is any hope of cleaning this up!" Clark said it in an exclamation as far as expressional tone, but still made sure to limit his true volume this time. He glanced downwards shamefully, biting his tongue so hard it began to sincerely feel sore from it. "If we could just erase little bits of people's memories, or if I could try flying backwards around the earth super fast, or… just, anything, but I'm not sure those would work or are really possible at the moment."

"Perhaps we don't need magic, then." Talia pointed out. She rubbed the bottom of her chin in deep thought. "Hmm… over the many years of my father's life, he has kept many secrets from the entirety of society, and I'm sure has had many slip-ups similar to these, but he always figured them out, despite his lack of powers. I wonder what worked so well for him. Surely, there's—"

"Murder," Both Bruce and Clark answered in unison.

"—Which we're definitely not even considering doing, especially not on this many people. Innocent people, may I add." Bruce finished, profusely shaking his head at the mere concept of such a terrible crime. He began to rub his chin, as well. "Hmmm…"

"Obviously not," Talia slowly nodded, "But that wasn't what I was thinking of. I'd expect Clark to think that lowly of me, considering our lack of familiarity, but Beloved, please. I'm not that murderous— and you're right, this is a very large crowd. That means we've got to make an excuse that every single one of the people will fully believe, which obviously will not be easy."

Oliver took several steps towards them, nodding along to Talia's words, "There's plenty of amnesia methods out there, that technically we could widely disperse, though. The main issue there is that it could most likely be dangerous or overactive to some of the people we'd have to give it ..."

"Or even deadly," Dinah, right behind him, added.

"Although you're right on that, we're starting to run out of choices." J'onn stated, pointing to the many puzzled, scared, intrigued and even shaky observers. He vaguely scanned his finger over the whole area to illustrate just how many there were. "Took a small peak into just a couple of the civilians' minds, and let me just say that it appears they're definitely not about to immediately accept some half-baked excuses."

"But their lives are a million times more important than our secret identities, frankly. It's not their fault that they ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it's certainly not their fault that Clark got so emotionally reckless." Bruce gave Clark a quite unpleasant look from the corner of his eye. "We're not going to endanger anyone's safety— at all, and that's the end of that. Whatever that means for us, we're just going to have to deal with."

"I'm still confused about your non-killing rule…" Clark gave the exact look directly back. His hopeless remorse was starting to wear off, perhaps a little too much. "You're a member of the League of Assassins, an organization full of, as the name suggests, assassins and not really anything else, yet you claim to be completely against murder. Probably the most of all of us, if anything. It makes no sense. How have you managed to keep up your duties as Ra's' second in command without—"

Bruce interrupted him, intensifying his own glaring, "Oh, shush. I'm not the one that may or may not have just destroyed almost all of our lives."

"Well, I can try the whole unwinding the Earth idea to fix it. I promise, I'll do whatever it takes, and that idea has got to at least be worth a try, even if it doesn't end up working." Clark thought aloud. He quickly became the third person to start rubbing his chin. "If turning one way goes forward, turning another way goes backwards."

"I'm… pretty sure that's not how that works." Diana squinted her eyes, frantically attempting to grasp where Clark had even come up with such a bizarrely unscientific conclusion. "Considering it's definitely not going to work, and the civilians are already waiting for some kind of answer, I believe it's best if you don't fly off to do it. The more we wait, the more everything gets very, very suspicious."

"Perhaps we can just come up with an excuse, though. If we pull it off well enough, that is. Which is unlikely, but we're desperate enough that it's probably worth a try… more tries than Clark's spinning-earth-back idea, at least." Bruce muttered. Clark pouted at the last part.

Then, just as he was finished suggesting the extremely vague, half-baked idea, they all heard a voice, audible yet meek, coming from just to the left of their large table. At the exact same time, everyone turned over to look at the speaker. Matching the small voice, he was quite short, as well. Not extremely short per se, but a tad off average, and certainly small compared to Superman and Batman's tall, dynamic figures.

The waiter, it seemed, had finally worked up the courage to say something.

"We all… We all heard you guys when you mention that, um… she, over there," he stated, pointing directly at the middle of Talia's torso, "Is an, um, killer. Brutal Murderer. Professional assassin, whatever you called it. And, erm… I think I might call the police." He took a few steps back at the last sentence, still looking fearfully at Talia, silently begging for her not to kill him.

"Please," Talia instantly pulled herself together, letting the anxiety drain from her face and general stance. Now, her body tensed with a quite different kind of emotion, directed right at the poor server. "Listen to me— I only mean this as a simple warning. If I were you, I wouldn't be calling anyone. Not on me." Slowly and methodically, she took a step towards him.

With these words, the waiter's expression somehow got even more absolutely terrified, nearly reaching the limit of eye-widening that his face could even go.

Seeing this, Talia turned back to the group, her own eyes widened, "Whatever it is we're going to do, we need to do it fast. The longer we wait, the worse it gets, and the more stressed and ill-headed we become, as well. We need to think of something now, especially considering I would be very, very surprised if that poor boy was the only one scared enough to call the police."

"Yes, obviously," Bruce and many of the other Justice League members were still tapping their chins, forehead and whatnot, while silence suddenly took over. They needed a solution now, but the pressure did no more than make them fidget, shake, and vibrate with nerves, instead of making them think harder at all. The amount of upsetting, noisy exclamations from the on-lookers getting louder and louder by the second didn't help the situation, either. Thus, this lasted much, much too long. The exclamations were absolutely booming by the time anyone spoke again.

"I have an idea," Talia said.

"Do you?" Clark raised an eyebrow in disbelieving amusement, but a moment later, went back to deeply frowning. "Does it involve a lie as ridiculous and dumb as the one you are your husband just told a few minutes ago, or is it a genuinely good plan that won't get us in even more trouble."

"Well…" she stuttered, glancing side to side nervously. "It's still an idea."

"At this point, any idea at all is good… or at least, more than worth a try. We're running out of options here, Clark." Bruce reminded him. He then turned to Talia and firmly nodded his head in encouragement. He softly smiled at her. "Go on, Talia. Show us your plan, and even though he's a bit grumpy, I'll make sure Clark follows your every word, alright? Just go ahead and I'll—"

The minute the smile had started coming on, everyone was already getting bothered by Bruce's emotions enough, but when he started accusing Clark of being the grumpy, pessimistic one, their stares turned into mildly astounded expressions. Nonetheless, seeing as no one else had ideas than Talia, none of them bothers to comment on it— except Clark, of course.

"Hey, Bats," he whispered, "for the record, I am not grumpy. I am simply rightfully suspicious and skeptical of her, the murderous criminal you call your wife… And by the way, if any idea at all is good, why was my idea about turning the world backwards so quickly shut down? That idea was as good if not better than hers is, I'm sure."

"You're right," Bruce rolled his eyes. "I mean to say, 'any idea within reason'."

Clark's jaw dropped open at the insulting words, clearly resisting the urge to argue back. But, unfortunately for him, before he got so much as a word out, Talia had already started running up to the front of the restaurant. Standing tall and projecting her voice to the fullest extent, she began to go through with her spur-of-the-moment plan, and aside from Clark, all of the Justice League was following her.

"It is very clear that many of you, ease-dropping or not, heard the commotion that my table and I were making. I'm very, very sorry for the inconveniences that may have caused any of you. I'm also aware that some things were said that may come off as odd or even disturbing to those who heard it without context, but I assure you, there is nothing sinister going on her at all– and I'm definitely not a murderer… in real life, at least. I'm not some kind of… crazy person. I promise," she began.

The rest of them timidly nodded along to her words, now standing just to the stage-left of her. At the same time, they all watched her, impatiently waiting for whatever it was she had up her sleeve.

"The real situation, and what we were talking about with those bizarre remarks, was simply us being a bit rude to each other at most. A bit too sensitive on one side, but a bit too offensive on one. Not murderous or criminal, though." Then, she took a deep breath, before finally starting to state her explanation.

"We were just talking about video games."

Many audience-members let exhausted, frustrated, or even scared expressions take over their faces at the ridiculous claim. Many of the people beside her, in fact, did the same. But no one, in the entire humongous room, had quite as upset of an expression as Clark did. It half resembled a scowl, and half just a look of complete and utter disbelief. He leaned over and stuck his mouth near Bruce's ear.

"You have got to be kidding me," he whispered, still scowling harshly at Talia from the side. "You can say whatever you want about my quite complex, well-thought-out idea, but this? Do you really think this is an improvement? The same excuse that already didn't work and, for all we know, someone could've already heard get debunked."

"Oh shush, at least it has a chance of working."

Right on time to prove him completely and utterly wrong, a quite vocal spectator suddenly jumped up from her chair and responded to Talia, in a completely and utterly frustrated, angry tone. The person was crossing her arms as tight as they would go, and same as Clark, was scowling at Talia.

"Miss, are you joking?" she exclaimed. "We heard the conversations between you. We heard the talk of murderers and criminals in a terribly realistic light. We heard the genuine anger in your friends' voices. The betrayal. People don't act like that over simple, fictional video games. It'd be ridiculous if they did— those things are just for fun. But the taking of a real person's life? That's not fun, is it?"

"I–" Talia was quickly caught off-guard by the argument. An uncomfortable blush took over her face. "Well, obviously, someone does. They're just very invested, that's all… Just, as I already said, quite sensitive."

"See?" From the side, Clark quietly whispered to Bruce in an annoyed tone yet again.

Meanwhile, Talia continued talking, as well. With each word, she began to grow confidence. Forced confidence, somewhat, but visible confidence nonetheless. Her blush was beginning to fade, fortunately, and her arguments were coming together a little bit, though admittedly not a huge amount, or enough that Clark wasn't still rolling eyes at every single turn.

"Are you shaming them for that?" she asked the woman, eyes narrowing accusingly. "Are you shaming them for having fun with a harmless video game? For getting interested in it? For their emotional attachments to it? Because even that seems a bit ageist, don't you think? Everyone should be allowed to have fun with fiction…. Or honestly, are you really shaming them for their emotions overall, not even just the attachments to this game? They're mostly men, too. Do you believe men should not express emotions, lest they are 'ridiculous'?"

"That's clearly not what I'm saying," The woman replied. Exasperation taking over her voice, she quickly and dramatically facepalmed at Talia's points.

But surprisingly, especially to Clark (who had rolled his eyes at least three times in the last ten seconds), not everyone had that same reaction. Some of them, in fact, had the opposite look— slowly, a small table from the book, filled entirely with men, nodded along righteously. One of them, who was even wearing a video-game-themed shirt, steadily pushed himself off of his chair and opened his mouth wide, preparing to yell out his own words.

"She's right," he agreed. "Who are you to tell these people how they can and can't interact with the things they enjoy? Who are you to call them 'too old' or 'too sensitive' or 'too ridiculous' or 'too genuine' or even 'too much'? Who are you to shame or criticize them for anything at all?" He crossed his arms.

"I never shamed them for any of that, I simply explained that it seems unrealistic that it's what's going on here. I don't think I used a single one of those words, as a matter of fact. I was just talking about the way they put the specific things which are being questioned here, such as her being a murderer, and how they seemed very serious on it."

"Oh, so now you think they're 'too serious' about their interests? You think they should put the parts of the game in a different way just so they adhere to your own preferences?" he argued, before Talia even had the chance to get her own thoughts on the matter. She blinked as she watched him just keep fighting this argument for her. "You shame others for so many things but you know what? I think that's the most shameful thing of all."

The poor woman facepalmed again, but fortunately for Talia, many other people were nodding to the man's loud, accusing questions and bold statements. Without her needing to do a single thing more, most started to believe her– or at the very least, were too focused on the argument going on to pay attention or remember the fact that there was still a murderer standing right in front of them.

"You really shouldn't celebrate before you've even won, Clark." Bruce eyed Clark, mumbling the words just loud enough for him to hear.

"There was—" Clark's eyes were wide, still only beginning to process the scene in front of him. He could barely get a word out of his mouth, absolutely astonished that they weren't still getting screamed at. He looked back and forth from Bruce to the crowd, faster and faster each turn. "That… How did that work?"

"Talia's just that good, apparently," Bruce shrugged. A strong, wide smirk covered his face, directed precisely towards Talia's direction, although even she had an expression extremely similar to Clark's at this point. "You shouldn't judge a book from the cover. Just because she's a little… morally ambiguous, so to speak, does not mean she's not a lovely, intelligent woman."

"But how?!" Clark whined. Bruce neglected to respond, though, simply turning around and following the rest of the League towards the door.

But of course, before they left, they made sure to come by their table not just to pay the check adequately, but also leave the waiter a very, very big tip. Fortunately, the look on his face upon seeing it almost completely covered the previous terror in his eyes. To say he was overjoyed would've been a huge understatement; his excitement was unbelievable.

Once they were outside, everyone immediately began to discuss the bizarre situation. Clark and Talia had much to discuss, mostly. Clark was still very, very bitter over her ridiculous win, and Talia was still a bit nervous about the murderer reveal. Thus, both had their heads low, and their voices even lower. Eye contact, likewise, was absolutely non-existent. Bruce, though, was in a surprisingly good mood after Talia had somehow fixed Clark's petty mistake.

Bruce tapped Clark on the shoulder, and then pointed to Talia, "You should thank her. You could've doomed us there but she, being the gloriously intelligent woman I chose to marry, managed to clean up your mess. Wasn't that nice of her? To use her smarts to pick up the downfall of you, the person who was so rude to her before, of all people?"

"That was… That was luck, Bruce. She's clearly not that smart if she thought there was even a good chance of that working– if she even had the confidence to do it." Clark argued, but he still kept the arguments to a volume that only Bruce could hear, clearly avoiding Talia for either reaction.

"Fine then," Bruce shrugged, letting his smirk grow even more, pure amusement plaguing his every move. "If you want such an intelligent assassin on your back."

"I'm Superman," Clark muttered, very very low this time to be sure they didn't have a repeat of what happened last time they were having this kind of conversation. "I can defeat her— easily, probably. Whatever happened here has nothing to do with her assassin skills, or her intelligence. Luck, Bruce. Luck."

"Sounds like somebody's in denial. Seriously, Clark. Grow up. Talk to her. She's not that bad of a person once you get to know her. Not as murderous as it sounds like she'd be, given her quite… dubious ancestry." Bruce turned his head to look at Talia, subtly narrowing his eyes at her with that last thought. "Although granted, even Ra's isn't quite as bad as you'd think he'd be based on some of the descriptions people like us throw on him."

"Okay. Maybe you could be slightly right about your wife, since this is the first time we've met, although I wouldn't be surprised if you're just biased, but him? I've met him. I know from personal experience that he is that bad." Clark crossed his arms, and with that movement, let his voice rise, growing in confidence. "Sure, it was a very brief meeting, but you could just tell. He's got evilry in his eyes. You can tell by just a glance, and I'm betting that some of that evilry has spread to the woman you call your 'beloved'."

"Wow," Bruce rolled his eyes. His smirk quickly transformed into a deep, frustrated frown, while his eyes quickly turned back to Clark to direct it right at him. "You're just making less and less scientific sense by the moment, aren't you, Clark?"

"She's just… bad. Alright? And I'm not going to let my conscience surrounding that be diminished by some lucky 'intelligence'." Clark deeply frowned back at Bruce. "It's really, really unfair to the other villains. The way you're acting is even more unfair, though. You're suddenly alright with murderers if they're pretty and smart enough to marry? Is that how this works now? You know, we never actually discussed the whole 'Ra's' second in command' situation. I thought you had a no-killing rule! Are you just saying this because you're just as much of–"

"No. Of course not, Clark. You can't seriously think that low of me." Bruce shook his head over and over again, quicker each time. "I, as a matter of fact, have been in the process of teaching his 'assassins' not to kill. It's actually working quite well for some of them, aside from the really dedicated killers, and Ra's himself doesn't seem to mind. I'm not sure he actually knows I'm doing it, though, and I'm not exactly about to bring it up. I've still got to keep my marriage intact."

"Yes, yes," Clark nodded along sarcastically, "Because your marriage to this murderous assassin is more important that your morals."

"Are you implying that my keeping this from her father to stay married to Talia is a matter of morals? You did realize the person I'm… sort of lying to is even more of a murderer than the person I'm married to, right?" Bruce cocked an eyebrow, amused by these thoughts. Clark, on the other hand, was less than pleased.

"That's not what I mean. You know that's not what I meant."

"How would I? That's what it sounded like you were saying. What other morals am I breaking by reforming brainwashed assassins? Or former assassins, I should say, for the cooperative ones. Some of them are really working out, I'm telling you! Believe it or not, Talia's definitely not one of the uncooperative ones, either, although I don't really even have the power in the League to boss her around. She's just not that bad in the first place— That's what I've been trying so hard to tell you."

"I have a hard time believing that. Are you sure you're not just biased, or even lying to my face just to get me to be kind to your terrible wife?" Clark's voice was starting to raise even more, to the extent that Talia could make out some of the things. She tried to hold back a bitter glare.

Bruce's voice was raising, as well, "She's not terrible, if you'd only listen to me. She's just complicated."

"That sounds like quite the avoiding excuse. She's a murderer, Bruce! A murderer! She's as bad as the villains get! She's working with someone who has committed genocide, even. For all we know, she could've committed genocide before! What is wrong with you, thinking that kind of person is just 'complicated'?"

"I'm quite confident she's never committed genocide before. That seems like something I would've figured out by this point in her relationship, being the world's greatest detective and all. Honestly, that's ridiculous. I've seen her cry over killing people so many times, and you think she has the guts to commit genocide? Really?"

"Yes yes, of course she would force tears on to her face when committing murder in front of her anti-killing beloved."

Fortunately, there wasn't anyone around other than their one group, and as Clark noticed that, he'd started completely disregarding any attempt to not scream out each word. It was more than clear that, despite his momentary change of focus, he was still just as angry at both Bruce and Talia as he'd been earlier. His arms were crossed, his face was tense, and every so often he would even stomp or loudly tap his feet in anger.

"She wasn't faking it," Bruce argued. Now, he felt his own feet stomp down in return. "As I already said, I'm the world's greatest detective, and I also know her exceptionally well. She's not nearly as bad as you think she is. I don't like her murderous tendencies any more than you do, trust me, but she still still deserves credit where it's due— the only reason she's a murderer is because her father is, not because she is naturally sadistic." He could feel low, grumbly huffs of air escape from his lips the second he was done talking.

Talia, on the other hand, had managed to hold in any arguments with Clark, or huffs of air at the insults he'd persistently thrown at her. She was unhappy, of course, and barely resisting, but her visible expression was fairly calm despite it. However, she eventually grabbed Bruce's arm and tugged him over to where they could have a conversation in slightly more privacy. Once there, her eyes lit up with a mix of anger and just general upsetness.

"Beloved, I—" She took a big deep breath. "I really, really think we should start heading home now."

Bruce paused before answering, simply looking at her blankly for a moment. His mouth lay in a fairly neutral position, or at the very least, did not move much from where it had been before. Nonetheless, after that moment began to stretch in a minute, he took a deep breath himself. "I…. suppose you're probably right. This has definitely gone on too long."

They stood together, still listening to the Justice League's loud arguments in the background. Some of their poor civilian dates had finally begun to say their own opinions on the matter, with the previous shock, startle and discomfort starting to wear off and escape from their frazzled minds. The arguments were heated to say the least, with everyone's voices even higher than their stress levels, but they seemed to be coming to a consensus.

"Talia al Ghul is a murderer. A dangerous criminal. Whether she's Batman's wife or not, we can't just let her go." Diana was currently pointing out, with her hand stretched out in a suggesting gesture. "It could cost people's lives. People with loved ones devastated, even innocent people. People who we'd be letting down. Especially by letting her go for such an insignificant, meaningless reason."

Many of the others were quick to nod along to this statement, with some even adding on to it with their own, only to be agreed with just as thoroughly.

"Will Clark… Will any of your friends, actually…" Talia spoke the words slowly, as if the wrong one next could shatter both of them like fragile glass. "Will they even let us go? We talked so much about the prospect of my arestment if we messed up, and clearly we did mess up. How powerful are your friends? Do you think we could defeat them? Do you think they're alright with angering my father, on top of me and my own power?"

"Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if plenty of them had already angered your father. By existing, even. By being a superhero, or perhaps, by even being a human." Bruce's words had slowly as well, though not nearly as much as hers. "Obviously, not as much as they would be by capturing you, but they're not exactly about to care about what danger they're getting in with a supervillain. They find it routine, same as I do."

"But are they powerful enough to even do it in the first place?" she asked. Her right arm was wrapped around her shoulder, slung over it in a manner that was half aimless and half very carefully nervous.

Bruce glanced backwards. He looked at the many members, and he thought of their powers— especially Wonder Woman's, and her pure lack of a kryptonite. He internally calculated the elements, until eventually, he looked back to Talia. Her unsure, careful eyes were nothing compared to the left hand, so tightly clenched in a strong fist. But nonetheless, he was not happy with what he found when computing her own abilities with theirs.

"...Most certainly," he answered, with his own expression already saddened by his own words.

"Do you think we could just sneak out now?" Talia was quick to absorb the words, letting questions fall out of her mouth the second they'd come into her ears. "If not, can we at least fend them off for a bit while we come up with a plan? How much better are they than us, really? Do you think we can outsmart them, if we're good about it?"

"Unsure about the first one, maybe, a lot, and possibly but probably not," Bruce was careful to answer every one, but his answers were more than vague. Similarly, his voice wavered in tone every millisecond, and the tone was completely and utterly unsure.

Another pause in speaking took over their conversation. The Justice League was getting more and more sure that arresting Talia was the correct solution, leaving them with less and less time to sort all of it out. Their feet tapped against the ground lightly through the thoughtful but undeniably unpeaceful silence. They both gulped, over and over again, the more they thought.

"Maybe we can convince them you're not as bad or dangerous as they believe? That you're not a bad person, deep inside. That you're often a hero, on top of the less… morally-correct areas of your brain." Bruce eventually suggested. He was still much less than certain, though. His voice was still wavery.

"Well, that's a bit insulting," Talia remarked. Her frown hardened at him.

"You know I still love you. I wouldn't have married a murderer if I didn't really, really love you. We'll always have our differences though, of course. I can't pretend to love the fact that you have blood on your hands, Talia." he nonchalantly explained, unfazed by her reaction. "Surely you can't expect me to love you for the worst part of you, simply love you unconditionally despite it."

"There were maybe one or two sweet statements in there, but for the most part?" Talia's frown managed to harden even more, turning into an almost grimace. "You're really, really not helping yourself. I know you love me, but it's still insulting and kind of offensive to talk to me that way."

"Talia, calm down. I'm just saying that everyone knows that murder is wrong but you… don't seem to? Not entirely, at least."

"I know some kinds of murder are wrong. I know genocide is wrong," she stated. She crossed her arms and took a step towards Bruce, but in a much less than loving nature. Her feet were loud as they hit the ground. "I know murder without reason, or of complete utter innocents, is wrong. I know you committing any kind of murder would be wrong, because you're so strongly against it. But… wait, haven't you murdered my father before?"

"That was…" Bruce stuttered, caught off guard by the point, "Is murdering your father really murder, though? It's hardly worse than putting him unconscious. All it does is give him a… little break from life?" Even once he'd calmed the stuttering, he found himself saying every sentence like an unsure question, to which Talia seemed to answer 'no' to without saying a single word.

She was quite clearly not pleased. In fact, her eyes looked at him in a slight glare.

"I'm… sorry about saying it in that way, though, Talia. Also sorry about killing your father. It was just that in the moment, it seemed like that was the only way to save everyone from him." Bruce put a gentle hand on her shoulder, carefully rubbing it. "I don't think he deserves to die, because I don't think anyone deserves to die. I just thought the innocent people he threatened deserved to die less, if you get what I'm saying."

He now lifted his other hand, as well, and rubbed both shoulders. Every ounce of his expression was quick to soften the more he spoke, and the tone in his voice followed. His eyes were deeply relaxed, though still saddened emotionally. A pause in his voice crept in. Talia was still visibly upset, though, so he continued only a bit later.

"You… You don't deserve the pain of losing him, though. I know that much. No one deserves the pain of losing a loved one, especially someone as close as a parent." The last word tightened his jaw, making a small cracking sound. His head lowered at the mere thought. "But Talia, you… You, with your soft smiles and your strong determination and your brilliant thoughts. You, with your tender love and your loyalty to that love no matter what…."

Talia began to slowly nod, still a little frustrated, but beginning to let the actual anger diminish. Her glare lifted, and she finally let her arm loosely drop to her sides.

"You, with your stunning beauty but most of all, your strength in fighting to do what is right despite your, erm, questionable raising, and your willingness to go against that murderous life, which I hope you know, though I failed to say it, was what I truly meant with my… less than happy thoughts on your previous murders…You, my beloved wife…"

Then, he took a step towards her, letting his arms bend further as they stayed on her shoulders. But only a second later, moved them; now, instead of only touching her shoulders, they touched her back. His arms, on the other hand, were wrapped around her entire body in a soft, affectionate embrace. Fortunately for him, even Talia's mild frustration was beginning to fade at this point.

"The only thing you deserve is the world."

Talia, still fully leaning into his hug, kissed him. She strung her own arms over his, hugging him back closer to his shoulders and neck, while he ended up merely touching her lower back. They held this position for a good minute or two, just enjoying the entire emotion of holding one another enough to not bother moving another muscle. The soft glow of moonlight spilled over their backs, casting shadows on one another. Still, they did not move, until eventually Talia shifted herself just a couple inches back to open her mouth and reply to his love-filled statement.

"And you, My Beloved," she said, "when you're not being rude… deserve the entire solar system."

Bruce smiled, fully and unrestrained. His back was turned to his friends at the moment, and besides, he didn't exactly care if they saw, or gave him odd looks, or even began to outright judge him for the expression right now. Not anymore, not when everything had already fallen to pieces until all that was left was Talia, safe in his arms; perhaps for the moment at most, but for now, she was there, and he was in front of her. For now, their perfect happily after seemed just within the arm's reach, and the light of their life, their unborn baby, was right beneath Talia's own smile.

They kissed again, this time with Bruce being the initiator. He rubbed her back, gently, and now, they were seemingly planning on keeping this going for even longer. Perhaps, every few seconds, taking a short break from the actual kiss, but with their minds finally distracted and hence at some momentary peace, they weren't about to break out of the general embrace. Even as the winter chill crept down their spines, and the moon got higher in the sky, they stayed— in fact, it only brought them closer, with each other's touches only warming them from the chills.

It amounted to only a few minutes at most in reality, but the feeling in their soul lasted a million years. It was perfect, relaxed, content, and even more than that, happy. Uninterrupted, quiet joy….

Until, of course, it was interrupted. Quite loudly, in fact.

"Talia al Ghul," Diana called, her voice booming with a strict, harsh tone. She stood behind the couple, specifically on Talia's side. In those few minutes, she'd already completely changed uniforms, just to be safe with the secret identity situation; her bright red shirt nearly luminated against the dark nightscape surrounding. "We are hereby apprehending you and will furthermore be handing you over to the authorities unless anything changes, for your many, many crimes of first-degree murder, most likely kidnapping, and I'm sure tons and tons of breaking and entering. Not to mention just general trespassing."

Talia's eyes were wide, glossy with overwhelming startle. Her head turned around in under a nanosecond, instinctively looking at Diana. But Diana, also without missing a beat, grabbed her arm before she could do a thing. Then, she tugged it backwards, away from Bruce. His expression was just as shocked as Talia's; the second Diana's had started to speak, his shoulders had abruptly tensed up. Now, he quickly grabbed Talia's other arm in some desperate hope to at least force Diana to pause in her movements.

"Diana, please," he pleaded, "just listen to me. Give me a second to talk to you, to explain this whole situation better, and before I do, please, please don't do anything with her. She's… she's not… doesn't deserve to… She's still a good person, Diana. A hero, even. I stand by that she is a big dubious in the moral area at most, not a terrible, evil person like you seem to think. As I already said, just listen to me."

"It's hard to listen to you when I have much more reasons to believe what you're saying are lies than the truth, Bruce," she sighed, but tightened her grip on Talia. "Not even just because it contradicts what I've heard, believe, and even know to be true, but you've also… not exactly been acting like the most trust-worthy person lately, have you?"

"I know," Bruce admitted, "but she shouldn't have to pay the consequences for my mistakes. I'm the one that lied, not her."

"As endearing and romantic as that sounds…" Diana rolled her eyes. Twice, even. "She did lie, actually. Several times, as a matter of fact. Sure, you were probably the one that told her to lie, but that doesn't change the fact that what you just stated is literally not true, Bruce." With her other hand, she pulled Talia's opposite shoulder backwards.

Bruce could feel Talia get farther out of his grip. Now, all he held onto was the end of her palm, rather than her actual arm. It made him frown– pout, even. Despite it being at an awkward place now, he curled his fingers further, until he could see Talia visibly bothered by both of their strong grips. She shuddered, which inevitably forced him to loosen. Only as much as was necessary, though; he still held on undeniably tightly.

"But– but as you just said, it was still only because of me…" he argued, his voice getting quieter and more unsure with every word, or even syllable. "For me, I should say. Talia only lied out of love for me and I wish for the best, which surely you can respect, can't you? It's Valentine's Day, for goodness sake."

Diana shook her head without even a bit of hesitation, "That's a pathetic excuse, Bruce. Especially coming from you. I thought you, being, well… you know what I'm taking about, would be able to come with a better excuse than 'it's Valentine's Day,' as if that arbitrary holiday means a single thing compared to first-degree murder."

"I just think he's saying that we'd rather not have our love, and more importantly our lives ruined," Talia protested, "on Valentine's Day of all days, that's all."

Diana shrugged, "Then I'm afraid you shouldn't have committed murder, or any of the other crimes I listed before. It's not that hard to just not be awful and villainous, and generally works out better for you, too. Have you ever heard of the saying 'the good guys always win'? It could apply here." Then, she turned back to Bruce. "And you shouldn't have married a bad guy, because 'guilty by association' is also an applicable phrase."

"But you don't even know the specifics! You've never even seen her commit a crime before! You can't arrest her just because you don't like her." Bruce argued. "That'd be almost just as morally incorrect as committing murder itself."

"Not…. not really, though?" Diana gave him an odd, confused look. She squinted her eyes as she considered his claims. "Imprisoning someone and taking away their freedom unrightfully is one thing, but taking away their entire life? That's a completely different level of morally incorrect. That's evil, in its purest of forms. Besides, I'm not imprisoning her unrightfully either way– I don't need to have seen her commit murder to know she's a murderer. You, yourself, mentioned having seen her do it. Witnesses are fairly solid evidence, especially considering it's not exactly like your wife has been trying to deny a single part of this."

"As much as I hate to say it, Beloved, she does have a point. I don't really think pleading innocent to my very clear, well-known crimes is going to work for me in this case." Talia said. "But you have a point about her, specifically, not being a witness or knowing any of the specifics to the situation. That could still work…"

"Well, the few times I've been a witness to your murderers…" Bruce began, first looking and directing his words to Talia, but then quickly changing to Diana's direction mid-sentence. "Here's the thing, Wonder Woman. The first one I ever saw her do was in complete and utter self-defense… Or just defense, at least. It was either us or the man she killed, and so, she chose the villain, only to immediately after break down crying about it. Frankly, at the time, I had no reason to believe she had any connection to murderers and I hope you can see why I felt that way. Anyone can end up with blood on their hands through self-defense, civilians included."

"You basically just gave yourself the answer to what my reaction to that is going to be," Diana argued. "You said that you didn't know she wasn't a civilian, and therefore I'm sure she wanted, due to her situation regarding the authorities, for you to continue to believe that as long as possible. So she put up an act, and still couldn't resist a well-excused killing. It doesn't mean a thing."

"It was genuine, I promise," Talia quickly said. "Not that you'll believe me on that or any of this, but I really don't enjoy killing. Not even to people like that man, truly. I'm not a sadist… to most people, at least." She nervously thought back to her killing just a few weeks ago, of Qayin of all people.

"The bare minimum," Diana remarked coldly. "Murder is still murder, no matter what you were feeling at the time, how many tears you wept, or… Well okay, fine, if it really was in self-defense, I suppose that's a valid excuse. But I have reason to believe that's not the case for many of your murder cases."

Now, she grabbed Talia's forearm above the arm that Bruce was still firmly holding, and shoved it backwards until it was completely out of his grip. But in response, Bruce jumped forward and grabbed it again. Unfortunately for him, this led to Diana simply stomping over and prying his fingers off of it. Then, before Bruce had the chance to try again, she quickly pulled Talia several feet away from Bruce. She paused there, yet that still only lasted a few seconds— Bruce ran over to Talia again, causing her to suddenly spring up into flight, holding Talia ten feet in the sky where Bruce had no way of reaching.

"Diana, I just ask you to listen to me!" Bruce yelled upwards.

"I did listen to you," she countered, "but I quite quickly found that you had nothing worthwhile to say, other than things that were clearly biased for your wife. I'm not going to listen to biases. It's my job as a superhero and warrior not to, and to simply protect those who deserve protection, which unfortunately is not her."

"How would you know that?"

Although each and every attempt was futile and as good as failed the moment he started, Bruce jumped up and down, pushing against the ground ever so slightly closer to Talia and Wonder Woman. The black, dark pavement and pebbles laying on top of it skidded roughly against his shoes. Each and every jump ended with a loud thump, as well, right in correspondence with his feet feeling that rough surface underneath, only to shove them against it once again.

"Because I have common sense," Diana replied, still watching him hop around like a tiny rabbit. She sighed, purposefully loud in order for Bruce to fully hear the reaction. "You look so foolish down there, Bruce, and you're going to tire yourself out like that. You and I both know that it doesn't do a thing. Please, it hurts to watch."

"...I guess you're right," he begrudgingly admitted. Finally, he ceased the jumping, and accordingly, the loud, annoying thumping ceased, as well. Now, he stood still and silent, with his arms crossed and his eyes staring up at Wonder Woman, filled to the corners with anger.

"If you want to fly up with the two of us, Bruce, you need only say so." Diana offered, sighing loudly again. "I'm perfectly capable of holding the two of you, and besides, there's plenty of other Justice League members that could help if I wasn't. I know you don't usually enjoy being carried by the rest of us, but clearly, you're currently much more upset than you would be at that. I can see that look on your face, Bruce."

"Really?" Bruce's eyes lit up at the thought, nearly glowing bright blue in the nighttime lights. "You'd do that? You'll let me come help deal with the entire situation? You're not going to lock her up all alone and break us up permanently, not to mention take away my dear Talia's entire life?"

"Well," Diana shrugged. "I'd be happy to apprehend you for the moment too, seeing as you're currently a fellow accomplice to one of the worst criminals on the planet."

"Oh," his eyes faded back to normal, and now even tilted towards the ground beneath him. It was still so black, especially in the shadowy night, almost like a blackhole that his black shoes were escaping into. But then his eyes abruptly shifted back up, positioned right back to look at Talia. More importantly, she was truly escaping into the sky.

"I take it that you've changed your mind on my offer?" Diana asked, quickly picking up on his change in expression. While still in the midst of speaking to him, she was already starting to lift higher and higher into the sky, Talia pulled along through every jump or turn. Though he was getting smaller in her vision, Bruce nodded, to which Diana kept her face neutral. "Well, that's fine. If we really need to apprehend you as well, I'm sure we'll have no trouble with it, whether you're cooperating or not."

"I… can't argue with that." Bruce admitted.

"Yes, and I'm quite confident your wife won't be a problem, either." Diana stated. She continued lifting Talia up into the air, but at a reduced rate, just to be able to successfully multitask in both flying and keeping an eye on Bruce to make sure he didn't try anything. "I really am sorry for having to do this, but as I already said, you really need to get a better taste in women if you want these kinds of situations not to arise."

"First of all, you're my ex! That's insulting yourself almost as much as Talia," Bruce called. He'd gotten desperate now, and even though he'd already fully comprehended jumping's pointlessness, he was not above the task of climbing a tree. It was a grand maple, with thick, climbable branches easily twisting out of every corner. He swiftly jumped from one to the next. "Besides, my taste in women is exquisite. Perfect. You've met my wife once, and you already dare to question that?"

"Considering what I've just learned about her, yes, I do." Diana confidently replied. She'd momentarily paused to speak to him, but even from there, the tippity top of the tree was several feet too short to reach her, or more importantly, Talia. Therefore, her posture was completely calm and relaxed. "I can't even believe you anymore, Bruce. She's a villain. Why are you dating people like her? You're too good for her… Or at least, I would've thought you were before this entire mess."

As Bruce realized his drastic miscalculations regarding the height of the tree, he spun himself around and began to climb down. Nonetheless, he snarled at Diana's words; anger swelled up in his mind and body, making his eyebrows slant immensely. He'd get to Talia somehow– he knew that much. Regardless of skill, superpowers, or experience, there was no way he was going to let this truly happen.

Meanwhile, Talia was peering at Diana with the same angry expression. Unfortunately, this was certainly not pleasing Diana. The more they looked at each other, the more both of them frowned and grunted in heated, fuming rage.

"I hope you realize the only reason I'm not fighting you right now is because we're at least fifty feet off the ground and I don't think I can survive that drop." Talia informed her, with the tone loud and harsh. "I'm not still simply trying to convince you to stop trying to arrest me, because clearly, you're much too stubborn to listen to a single word my husband or I say. The moment I get the chance, we're going down."

"I hope not literally," Diana commented. "Because unlike you, I'm not a murderer. Just because I'm trying to get you away from here, back where you can't hurt anyone, doesn't mean that I want you to have to experience that kind of painful drop, villain or not." Circling the topic of conversation, both of them briefly glanced towards the long space between them and the ground.

"Hmm," Talia considered. "I take it that you, being a non-murderer, would not let me splat out in a million pieces? You would catch me?"

Diana looked at the drop again, Talia's words forming a quite graphic image in her mind. Splat. She gulped at even the thought of such a horribly cruel fate— not just killing Talia, but handing her an incredibly painful death, as well. But she could also see the look forming on Talia's face. It was thoughtful, intrigued, and even more than that, suddenly extremely confident. It made Diana uncomfortable, to say the least. Nonetheless, she slowly nodded.

"Well… I'm a hero. I'm focused on saving lives, not just vengeance or punishment." Diana carefully said, still avoiding the slightest bit of certainty and purposely keeping the answer as vague as possible. "Even when it's the life of someone who isn't necessarily a good or loving person, I will make the choice to save the most lives possible, generally. The same as I at least thought your husband to be."

Talia's eyebrows furrowed. "So you would save me?"

"I…wouldn't not save you,"

These words, cryptic but truthfully definite, hung in the air around them. A silence took over, and a very awkward silence at that. Talia still instinctively squirmed and struggled in Diana's horridly tight grip, and Diana just held on even more painfully hard. Talia winced, before going straight back to glaring the woman down.

But even as this was happening, Talia was still eagerly pondering this new-found information. Her eyes dilated with pure, overwhelming intrigue, and her mind was swarmed with the tons of possible solutions all of this opened up. Her number of them went from about zero to at least five, most of which seemed worth a try, at the very least. So, quickly breaking the silence, she tried.

Talia struggled much, much harder. She fought Diana, as hard, fast, and fierce as she could manage. Diana grunted as she desperately tried to keep Talia securely in her arms this entire time, rolling her eyes at the attempt to escape.

"The reason you weren't fighting me hasn't changed, Talia. I'd advise you to stop right now if you don't want that concern of yours to become a reality." She warned, scrambling around with Talia's punching hands and swiftly kicking legs. "That's all you're ever going to achieve with this– your own death. Or even if you did survive, you'd achieve nothing good, that's all I know."

"Really?" Talia sighed. "You're going to expect me not to call the bluff you just admitted to? Sure, the situation has remained constant, but my knowledge on the situation has not. I'm not stupid enough to be inable to figure out what 'I wouldn't not save you' means. It means there's no danger in doing this. At all. It means you won't let me go 'splat'."

"Not– Not necessarily–" Diana stuttered, quickly trying to sort out her own words. Her throat felt slippery, like all that would come out was everything she was trying to push away from her ideas and improvisation. "I…. Well, either way it's not going to achieve anything good, alright? It's still worthless and a waste of time. When I catch you, you'll be right back here."

But, just as Diana was finishing making her point, Talia fully managed to push herself away and went falling through the cold, chilly air.

In the three seconds that it lasted, Talia felt her heart jump in her chest at the vast, though calculated danger. Even stronger than that, though, she felt her skin pressed against the fabrics of air; the speed she moved at made everything around her feel like the strongest of winds, throwing at her constantly. These winds were freezing, as well, leaving her to barely resist letting out a small scream.

Fortunately, Diana caught her quite quickly. She shoved Talia's frazzled body onto her shoulder, grunting even more than before. But, mostly unfazed, she quickly started to rise back into the sky, this time significantly faster than earlier.

"See?" Diana pointed out. "Nothing achieved. We're back where we started."

"Yes, that attempt was not successful, but perhaps the next one will achieve something. You never know, and it's not exactly like I've got much of a better escape as of the moment." Talia countered, shrugging as much as she could in the current constricted position her body was in. "I'll figure out how to escape at some point regardless, I hope you know that, but it's best to not let your kidnappers move you to a separate location, so I've heard."

"What attempt?" she cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "A suicide attempt?"

But, yet again before she'd even finished speaking, Talia had doven back downward. Diana let out a large, exasperated sigh, but going along with her word, she dove downward herself, speeding until she was right below her. Just like last time, she grabbed Talia and threw her back into her arms, but now, the movement had gotten even more aggressive.

"Alas, you attempt suicide again, to no avail." Diana narrated sarcastically. She flew back up even faster this time, gritting her teeth as she clung to Talia as tightly as possible the entire journey. "When will you ever learn? I've said it a million times now, but I'll say it again– it is completely and utterly pointless. You're just being an annoyance for the sake of it, and even more than that, a moronic fool."

Talia fought her way out again, though.

Then, as expected, Diana caught her and brought her back up, only for Talia to try again. Diana did the same again, but so did Talia. Over and over again, this cycle repeated; Talia refused to not persist in escaping Diana's grip, and Diana refused to let Talia fall to her death, whether it was practically her own fault or not.

"Isn't there a saying about this? 'Insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result'?" Diana remarked. Her tone was dull, too exhausted to have a real, strong reaction to what had become nearly routine.

Her expression didn't even change in the slightest when Talia, while she was still triedly saying this, pushed herself out of her hands again.

Diana grabbed her, of course, but this time, she did not just keep flying up in hopes Talia would eventually give up. At this point, she had accepted the fact that this would never happen, and Diana herself was beginning to adhere to the saying. Talia was getting the same response from Diana every time of course, but on the contrary, it could be considered that Diana was doing and getting the same, as well, and so she stopped.

Instead, she swiftly flew back to Bruce, who was now frantically trying to start the Bat-plane and go after her. With a large, reluctant sigh, Diana threw Talia down right next to the vehicle, who fortunately used her assassin instincts to effortlessly land on her feet. Diana followed down only a moment after, as well, then putting a hand back on Talia. But other than that, Talia was completely free. Her eyes were wide, startled by the sudden cooperation, but for the most part, her expression was very, very relieved.

"Bruce, get out of that plane. I am… willing to talk, now. Compromise, or whatnot." Diana gave in. She took several feet towards him, tugging Talia along in the process. Suddenly, she turned to Talia and glared, even harder than she'd done before. "Assuming your wife stops trying to fall to her death constantly."

Bruce rushed outside and ran to Talia, a concerned look on his face. "Are you alright? That kind of flying doesn't hurt pregnancies, does it? The elevation was changing so quickly there, I hope that it's not dangerous for the—"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Talia nodded profusely, but then quickly turned back to her captor with a large frown on her face. The arm that Diana held began to tense and clench in frustration, and her breaths were getting sharper by the second out of the same strong emotion. "I believe we have much bigger concerns to deal with at the moment, Beloved."

Bruce nodded, "Diana…. Thank you for reconsidering compromise, I'm sure we can figure something out. The only reason she does any criminal activities at all is pretty much just out of love and duty to her family, and surely can understand how important duty can be to some people, even if that still doesn't excuse–"

"Look, here's the thing, Bruce. The only reason I'm doing this is because the bowling place closes in much, much too little time from now, and the rest of them are waiting." Diana explained. She crossed her arms, finally letting go of Talia– but her eyes, so deeply focused, said everything about what would happen if Talia did try something while she had the opportunity. "Your wife sky-diving and my being forced to save her was a huge time-waster, and Clark was really excited about the bowling. He'd hate to have less than an hour there, and pretty soon, that'll end up the case."

"Ah, so it did work?" Talia's eyes curled up at the corners in subtle pleasure.

"Well… In a way, yes, but I want to remind you that I can still just miss the bowling and lock you up if I decide it's completely necessary, so you still very much need to watch yourself." Diana replied. Her foot tapped at Talia in order to lock those words in. She turned to Bruce, eyeing him in an equally strict, but slightly less hostile manner. "You mentioned that you've been reforming Ra's al Ghul's assassins behind his back, yes? So your no-killing rule is still very much a prominent part of your lifestyle?"

"Yes, of course," Bruce nodded. "I've even been hoping that perhaps I'm making a good influence on Talia's own habits, on top of the basic assassins, or even Ra's al Ghul himself's killling frequency."

"Good," She nodded back firmly, and then pushed Talia towards Bruce, coincidently ending up just putting the two of them in each other's arms, hugging similarly to how they'd been when she'd grabbed Talia in the first place. "Then here's what we'll compromise on– If Talia doesn't kill anyone, and I expected you to be watching this, Bruce, we'll let her go… temporarily. More thorough discussions of how to handle this entire situation will have to go down later, when we have the entire League here and aren't so low on time."

"Thank you, Wonder Woman." Talia begrudgingly said, glancing back at her in a way that had at least lessened into apathy. "I'm perfectly capable of going along with that, at least for the moment, although… I can't say what my father will make of it. I'll do everything I can to follow it, though, and I'm sure wherever I would fall out, my husband would pick up."

"Great, now if you'll excuse me…" Diana began to walk several steps backwards, pulling herself farther and farther away from the couple with each large stride. "I have some bowling to do. Which you two, as I'm sure have already figured out, have been uninvited to. Talia's uninvited to all our plus-one events, as a matter of fact. Not that you shouldn't have already been able to assume."

"Fine with me," Bruce shrugged. "Less events that I'll be forced to, I presume."

Talia nodded as well, and the two watched nervously as Diana made her way back to the group. Now that they were all reunited, Clark was quick to hurry them along towards the direction of the bowling alley, with a brisk speed-walking pace. Bruce and Talia, still holding on to one another, watched the crowd disappear onto another street and right out of their view. Now alone, they finally turned to look at one another.

"Considering I've gotten Qayin dead already, I sincerely don't hate this. Not much, at least," Talia began. But the moment she was saying the first part, her eyes bounced to the ground. "My father, on the other hand.. Well, that's quite a concern. I'm one of his best assassins after all, not to mention the one he holds closest to his heart. The one he cares the most about not betraying him, in any way."

"He's alright with the fact that I work for him and still don't kill. I'm sure we can figure something out with him, and once we do? Could… Couldn't this be for the best?" Bruce pointed out, raising his hand palm-up in an offered thought. "You don't enjoy killing. We both already know that, so wouldn't the complete lack of it in your life be a nice change to you?"

"It… could," Talia admitted, "but the complete inability to do so if necessary could cause many problems. Frankly, I'm just glad I can't think of anyone off the top of my head right now that I have strong reason to want and need dead which I haven't already made dead. That could change, though. Especially with the baby so close in the future, and I… I can't fail to protect our child."

"You can protect without killing," Bruce reminded her, frowning.

"Of course, but there's a certain lack of intimidation in that method. The lack of intimidation could lead to more people having the guts to lay a hand on our child in the first place, and… Well, that's even worse than the culprits not getting their proper punishment." Talia was now frowning, as well. "Much worse."

"...If you insist," he slowly, hesitantly replied. "It's worked okay for me, though. I'm sure the baby will be fine either way, so with that out of the picture, can't it be for the best? Just look at it this way– we'll have our beautiful, murder-free family, leaving us all much happier and the world a much better place, and…."

"And either way, she said she was going to reconsider with the full Justice League, which could very, very likely lead to them trying to hunt me down again, and my connection to you could put me in direct danger as far as that goes." Talia gently pulled herself out of the embrace, only to stare out into the distance from just a foot out of his touch.

"That's… definitely something we need to look out for," he agreed, taking a step towards her, while still not pulling her back into the hug out of fear there was some reason to her sudden movement. "They probably won't give us any heads-up when they've decided, either. No doubt won't invite me to the meeting where they discuss it or anything. An ambush, even, probably."

Talia nodded, taking a few steps towards the plane until she was right outside the door.

Bruce followed, "I– They can't— Well, we're not going to–" he stuttered, feeling gulps, nerves and phlegm stick around in the back of his throat, pushing him out of every single possible sentence. "We need to go over every possible place they could ambush you, don't we? Come up with plans? Brainstorm? You'll need to constantly have some way to contact the rest of us, too, so there's backup at any given–"

"Beloved, let's just figure it out once we're home, okay?" Talia cut him off. Her tone was just as nervous as his, but also eager to evade and procrastinate. She grabbed the door in front of her, swinging it open, and then swiftly hopped in.

Once seated, she looked back at Bruce, who still hadn't moved a muscle, impatiently. His mind was still coming up with those possible situations and possible solutions, making him space out for a moment instead of even beginning to get in beside her. Fortunately, once he noticed the look she was giving him, he ran around the plane and hopped in himself. But, to Talia's surprise, he still hesitated before inserting the key and turning it on.

"Am I giving you a headache again?" Bruce asked slowly.

"You were about to, with all that worrying," she answered, "if I hadn't cut you off where I did. But you… you shouldn't worry about it. You're right, some worrying is necessary, and I don't blame you for doing it. I ask you to just accept things as they are, but sometimes they simply are worrisome. I just….get tired of it sometimes, I suppose." Her eyes drifted into staring into the abyss again.

"Yes, well, I'm sorry for it anyway," Bruce said. He leaned towards her, slowly resting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry about this situation even being worrisome in the first place, too. I'm sorry about my colleagues, and the way they treated you. I'm sorry you even had to meet them in the first place, even. I should've been able to lie better, being the dark knight and all."

"Their actions aren't really your fault, although… I'd like you to consider, instead of whether or not you did a good job lying, whether or not you should've lied in the first place." Talia criticized. She tightly bit her tongue as she paused in her speech. "...I… I, erm, believe you understand that some of those things were not necessary to say, or helpful, for that matter."

"I also told them you were a bad dancer, and that's why we couldn't come to the earlier activity." Bruce blurted out, feeling his mouth and throat become bothersome dry at the words. From this view, he could hardly see Talia's face at all, leaving him to only wonder her reaction. "I'm sorry."

"How dare you," Talia threatened.

Bruce's mouth dropped open, but fortunately for him, she instantly turned her head around to look at him; on her face, it was quickly revealed that her anger was quite minimal. Instead, she looked nearly happy. A playful smile began to grow on her previously-solemn lips, and her eyes, dilating with joy, looked directly at Bruce in a pleasant spirit.

"I'll have to show you when we get home," she warned light-heartedly, letting her voice dip into a purposefully fake low voice, "just how 'bad' at dancing I am."

"You're welcome to," Bruce replied, almost just as cheerfully. He felt a small smile take over his face, and with that joy filling his heart, he leaned over and grabbed her hand. He brought it up to his lips, gently pecking the top of it with a small kiss. "I'll have to see if I can dance well, too."

Talia nodded, but almost as quickly as it had come on, her smile was fading. The same solemn look flooded back in, and the skin around her eyes wrinkled slightly in deep worry and concern. After Bruce had kissed it, he'd continued holding her hand, leaving her with the perfect opportunity to squeeze his own sadly. She watched, with her eyes half-closed, as he immediately squeezed back.

"Beloved, seriously, what are we going to do about all this?" she questioned. "I know I said we should wait until we got home, and that we should keep level-headed and not get into a mess of worry like you always do, but I see why you're doing it this time– I really do."

Bruce gulped, "Well, as I already said, we can come up with situation-specific solutions, as well as just general precautions to take in the meantime. Or we can train the assassins harder, or you harder… no, not the latter, we don't want you overworking with the baby. We could also get you bodyguards constantly, but… oh this is useless, this is Justice League we're talking about. Besides, you're a better fighter on your own than those bodyguards would probably be combined. But as a precaution, just in case it could help, it could be worth a try… Although really, when you think about it, none of this…"

But, before saying another frantic word of his, he cut himself off. He was looking at her. Gazing at her, truly, not exactly any kind of strong stare, but peering and observing her every move and expression. The latter was already so hopeless-looking, so exhausted, overwhelmed, and upset. But most of all, what he noticed was that it mimicked all the ones from these rants of his before, except this time, all the negative emotions had built up; they'd seeped into her every move, leaving her more than exhausted. The sight made him frown, even more than Bruce was already.

With this in mind, he changed tone, forcing a happier spirit all the way. A smile, although at first clearly fake, was slapped on his face as he tried to carefully calm his heartbeat. Bruce tried to, at the very least, be emotionless if not genuinely happy. Even at the first peek of a smile, Talia's eyes opened wider with light-hearted curiosity.

"But, actually," he quickly switched paths at the same time as the tone, "I'm sure we'll figure it out, together. After all, we figured out this dinner, even when it seemed ridiculous. Your father has plenty of power, you yourself are an excellent fighter, everyone we know is incredibly intelligent with many likely to give good ideas, and I, well…"

Talia wasn't smiling. She most certainly wasn't smiling, or anywhere near it. But her mood and expression still vastly changed at these words; the worried wrinkles were disappearing, her mouth had relaxed, and her general movements were much less frazzled. Seeing this, Bruce's own smile became much more genuine. He squeezed her hand again, only to then take the other one, on top of it, and squeeze them both at the same time.

"No matter what, I will never ever let this family be destroyed. Understand?"

She nodded. Just the slightest bit of a smile, thought still hardly visible, was forming. Bruce squeezed her hands again, but then sighed. He slowly placed one of her hands down again, before swiftly turning back to the front of the jet. Bruce placed his one unoccupied hand on the steering wheel. Now, he grabbed the keys from his pocket and jabbed them into the lock, before turning the vehicle on and lifting off.

With that, they soared off into the night sky, still holding hands in silent love.

[baticorngirl]

Down the Rabbit Hole (And Climbing Back Out Again)

Rating: General Audiences Fandom: Batman/DC Relationship(s): Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Ra's al Ghul & Talia al Ghul (Heavily Mentioned), Characters: Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra's al Ghul (Heavily Mentioned) Word Count: 3,701 Summary:

After enough times of constant betrayal, Ra's got fed up and in a heated argument, told Talia he was going to disown her. Now, she stands just out the backdoor of Wayne Manor, contemplating how, after all the times of him taking her back without question, she was supposed to respond to this. At least, with her Beloved standing behind her quietly, she is not completely alone. (For @brutalia-week, Day 4: Talia Needs/Gets A Hug)

Click here to read on Ao3 instead (which also has an A/N) Click here to read Day 3 Click here to read Day 2 Click here to read Day 1

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you okay?"

Bruce gazed at her softly. The muscles in his face were loose, dragging downward in a sympathetic expression, and his arms swayed back and forth. Despite a clear focus on her, his eyes were much less than fixated; they jumped back and forth from a reserved look to her, and an awkward peek to the ground. Nonetheless, he lifted his hand upwards and out towards her, just barely missing the back edge of her shoulder.

Talia's knees stumbled as she stood a few feet in front of him. His eyes widened as he observed their jitters and shakes, as well as the loud breaths she puffed into the air at the front. Aside from the shaking, though, her body didn't move a millimeter. The paralysis of her actions came off eerie, as if she was only a tranquil ghost, patiently haunting the manor's back porch. On the other side, her eyes stared downward, to the back of the bench in front of her and the intricate woodwork throughout it. They blinked constantly but slowly, leaving each blink to last disturbingly long, only for another lengthy blink to begin again right after.

"I have no more than a few scratches," she muttered monotonously, her throat dry and sore from dehydration.

"That's… good," he remarked.

Then, the conversation ended— paused, at least, with neither having adequate words in their head to continue it. Bruce's eyes remained restless; their bouncing began to extend from just a two-way ping-pong, to an entire hockey game of chaotic darting. His arm, on the other hand, had swiftly dropped in contrastingly-still defeat. Meanwhile, Talia prevailed in stillness in all regards. Her own arms appeared like popsicle sticks, glued to her sides so unnaturally, and her shoulders were fixed in an upwards shrug. The more this went one, the more her body felt exhaustion take over those areas, but the prospect of moving them from the positions only made her more mentally fatigued.

Fortunately for her, Bruce's attempts to restart conversation served as a decent distraction from these aches. He picked his arm back up, though at much lower degree than before, and held it in the air.

"That… that wasn't what I meant," he corrected, slow and careful with each word. "I didn't… didn't mean physically okay, I meant–"

"I know what you meant," she said, quickly and shortly.

But then, her mouth closed again. His eyes slowed at her words, yet only slightly; his eyes glazed up and down her entire body. Bruce's mouth slitted open, as well, and hung there, no words managing to slip out. His arm lowered an inch, and then continued resting in the bland, humid summer air. It had begun to grow tired now; the exhaustion didn't even compare to Talia's own, though, not just in her arms, but in the deep tissues of her torso. A raging fear silently burned in her chest with each and every slow breath. Bruce felt a minor burning sensation in his own heart just seeing the small tints of body language from hers.

"Then what is your answer?" he finally asked. "To that question?"

Talia opened her mouth, but in comparison to the timing of that action, her spoken answer was significantly delayed. "I… have elected not to answer it."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Have you, now?"

"It's trivial," she explained, letting her body somehow get even stiller than before, and her voice even softer. "You already know the answer, don't you?"

Bruce swallowed, smoothing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He felt the bumpy texture of it crawl under the sharp ends of his teeth, and the disconcerting tingle made him shudder. In that shudder, his shoulders flinched upwards, their muscles abruptly tightening. He forced them down, though, as he did the same with his startled eyebrows. Yet, eventually, his chin ducked in a crisp nod, followed by a reluctant grunt.

Talia took a deep breath, as much as her chest still ached. Her own chin bounded upwards in an opposite movement to Bruce's, with her eyes finally lifting from the ground. The sunlight, barely peeking through dark clouds, bounced off her eyes. It made them blink rapidly in protection, but Talia held her chin up despite it. The sun simply made them rest partway-shut, hardly changed at all from when nothing but her own emotions weighed them down.

"Whenever I consider whether to ask you if you are okay," she explained, her voice having not strayed much from the original monotone, "I always look to the same thing— your eyes, Beloved. Eyes, the windows into the soul… and I look at them, their sharpness or their softness, and I realize quite quickly that the answer to my own question is obvious. I realize those eyes tell more truth than any answer would've ever done."

"But what if I cannot see your eyes?" Bruce asked pointedly. "You're turned away from me, Talia."

She considered this point for a moment, and her eyelids lowered even more. The most abrupt motion was certainly her head, though, which tilted to the left in thought. Her tongue did a similar action to what Bruce's had a mere second earlier; licking the insides of her mouth, sweeping it against the bottoms of her sharp teeths until it stung. She clenched her hands tightly, getting tighter each second until they abruptly let go, and simultaneously, she answered.

"Oh, Beloved…" Talia called backwards, thought still not turning her head in the slightest. "I am not you, am I? I am not a mystery. I never have been. A person doesn't need any mythical soul-seeing abilities to read me like an open book. You, at least, shouldn't."

"Hmmph," he grumbled, neglecting to answer further.

"You can tell, can't you?" she asked him. "The answer to your question."

"Per…. haps," he finally spoke.

Now, Bruce took a few steps closer to her, cautiously listening to the sound of his own footsteps. He diffiented the sound of his toe and heel, as if testing the strides before he fully took them. Most of all, he watched Talia's reaction to the sounds; she stayed completely and utterly still the entire time, holding back any natural quivering even just from the general situation. Hence, Bruce continued, doing this for each and every step until he'd reached the position of a mere half-a-foot from her back.

He took a deep breath, and then gushed it out, landing the air waves right on to the back of her neck. The sensation made Talia visibly lurch another few inches away. In return, Bruce stammered backwards, increasingly uncomfortable and self-conscious. In the end, though, he still found himself standing less than half the distance of before.

"Tell me, Talia," he let his voice raise a tint. "If you are such an open book type of person, why must you neglect to answer my simple question? Why do you avoid it?"

She bit her lip. "Surely, being such a quiet, reserved person yourself, you can understand that there are some things which are simply best left unsaid."

Bruce looked over Talia's head and peered off into the distance, his eyes getting wider the more he stared. This went for a few seconds before his eyes swerved backwards, back down to her. He reached over, this time fully, and grabbed the side of her shoulder, nudging her around to look at him. His grasp was very gentle and non-forcing, but it was firm and urging nevertheless.

"If it is best not spoken, then simply allow me to get my answer visually," he requested as he nudged. "I already know the answer from knowing you, but I must read your eyes to know to what extent, if you will allow me to."

Talia nodded, and without hesitation, she twisted her head around until he could see a single one of her eyes. The cheek underneath was absolutely soaked in tears, glossy and damp in appearance. The whites of her eyes were a bright pink, tinted by the redness and swelling of relentless crying. Bruce's lungs fell in his chest the moment he saw all of it; the wet mess of her face absolutely broke his heart, leaving him wide-eyed and wide-mouthed at the situation.

"Talia…"

She fully spun around now, and loudly sighed, letting a million shaky gushes of air out at once. It made her lungs surge up again in a quiet hiccup, which she let out almost instantly after the sigh. The skin near her shoulders was freezing cold to Bruce's touch, as if her body had simply become too exhausted to keep pumping out heat. Similar to the still stance, this aspect was nearly as eerie as touching a surreal ghost. But this ghost heaved undeniably human, imperfect breaths, and let big, lumpy tears roll down her cheeks.

"I'm just a little startled, that's all," she admitted. "A bit shaken up."

"Clearly," Bruce commented.

He now lifted his hand from her shoulder, and rested it on and around her cheek; her skin felt squishy yet slightly rough against his fingers. More tears rolled down it, only for him to gently flick the drops of water away, drying her eyes. This continued for several seconds, with them both sitting in direct eye contact, before another word escaped from either of their lips. It was an empty period of time, but a loving one– even when unnecessary, Bruce rubbed her cheeks softly and soothingly.

"Do you think he'll change his mind?" Talia asked blankly. "Do you think he'll decide he wants me back and…."

Precipitously, her head drooped downward like a dying flower. Bruce's finger kept on her cheek regardless, letting the movement pull his arm lower with the cheek. He couldn't even see the area he was touching anymore, with the sunlight's shadows concealing it from view, but he continued rubbing it to the best of his ability regardless. It seemed to be working, although slowly, to get Talia's trembling body to relax. Her breaths were getting smaller and quieter, even as her stance shrunk in overwhelming timidness.

"Never mind," she said. "I… I can see it in your eyes, Beloved. You know the answer to the question even less than I do. There would be no more truth in that answer than the one to your first question, simply… blind comfort. Telling me whatever I wanted to hear."

He nodded. "I'm… sorry. You're right, I don't know, but if I were to guess… Well, I'd assume it was just a product of rage, and that he will take the words back any minute now."

"There you go," Talia's eyebrows furrowed. "That's your blind, meaningless, comforting answer, isn't it? The one you think I'll be made to feel better by, even if in the long run, my disappointment will eventually sink in if you end up wrong."

For a moment, Bruce froze, caught off-guard. He used his leverage on her cheek to scooch her head upwards, where he could finally look in her eyes once more. She was still crying just as hard as before, and if anything, the speed of her rushing tears had mildly increased. The fragileness of these tears had completely taken over her face at this point, with every single one making her cheeks bones move lower and looser.

Bruce attempted to comfort her anyway. "I admit you're right that I may have been exaggerating my certainty that he'll come around, and it's not like I exactly have a lot of faith in your father with these sorts, but… I will say that I believe it a lot more than the other options or–"

"—And I agree with you on that," Talia interrupted. "But honestly, I just… I don't even know which option I want to hear anymore! I don't know how.. Or why… or… Or, well…. If he takes it back, then will that even be a good thing?"

"I–" he stammered, but failed to find a confident answer.

"Then I'll have a choice to make, Beloved! Another terrible, heart wrenching choice…" she exclaimed, feeling her lips crumple into a deep pout. "He won't just give it as an offer, I'm sure, or take no as an answer if I so choose, either… he'll come begging if he has to. He'll ask that I return so he can live another day knowing his precious daughter still loves him, and I…"

She abruptly pulled her face out of Bruce's clutch and turned it to the right, fully avoiding his fingers. Even from there, though, her head remained tilted downward acutely.

"I can't just look in his so genuinely desperate eyes and tell him no, can I?" she questioned. "I cannot tell my own father that I don't want to be in his life anymore, or even worse, tell him I don't even love him. It'd…. It'd kill him, Beloved. I would kill him."

Talia let Bruce look in her eyes again now, and the sight made him nearly gasp; her eyes were so heavily flushed in tears that he couldn't even see the eyes underneath the heavy glare. Her own vision was intensely blurred, as well, and her nose was incredibly congested. All of her inhales came out as a soft, sad little sniffle, followed by a crumply blubbering sound at the exhale.

"That's not true," he reasoned. "Your father's a master-manipulator. I doubt a single one of those 'desperate' looks are the slightest bit genuine, and even if they were, does it matter? He's a terrible man, a murderer even, who's hurt you tons. You not only can leave him, but frankly, absolutely should."

"That's the thing, Beloved," she argued. "You say he's 'hurt me tons' but I promise you, whatever he's done to me, isn't even comparable to how my leaving would hurt him. He's–"

"No," Bruce shook his head firmly. "It's not comparable, because you aren't hurting him with this at all, Talia."

"Beloved, you… you wouldn't understand."

She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, and now let the entire upper-half of her body fall down and droop with her hanging head. She barely even kept herself standing upwards at this point, with her knees and feet wobbling against the weight of her leaning torso. Bruce had shifted his hands to be placed on her shoulders, but even that did little to stabilize her unsteady body. Strands of dark brown hair blew over onto her face, only making her entire composure look even more messy than it already was; those strands seemed somewhat enchanting as they shimmer in the sunlight, though, same as her sparkly tears.

Suddenly, Talia spun around, shoving Bruce's hands off her in the process. Her boots slapped against the wood floors, and then bounded down the steps until she was entirely off the porch. Now, she ran through the large yard, wet grass brushing at her ankles, until she was a significant distance away from him. Dew drops seeped into her shoes, making her toes curl, but she otherwise ignored the discomforting crawling of water. Her feet nonchalantly kicked the dirt against the ground, pushing those dew drops away.

Bruce was quick to follow her, rushing even faster down the stairs until he skidded to a stop directly in front. She inevitably faltered backwards as she realized this, letting her shoes get pushed even deeper into the dirt surrounding. Her eyes were wide and uneasy, carefully watching his every move. He, on the other hand, stared at one thing and thing only; the metal phone in her hand glimmered brightly, visually guiding his eyes towards it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a frantic tone plaguing his voice.

"Just sorting things out," she answered, narrowing her eyes in determination and piercing focus. "Making things right."

"What do you mean by that?" He took another small step towards her. "Making things right with what? With who? You seem impulsive, Talia, not thinking straight. Can you please just tell me what–"

"I'm thinking more clearly than ever, Beloved."

She pressed a few buttons of the device, making small tapping sounds, until she'd found the right app. Once on there, it took only a few more taps for her to reach the exact destination. Now, without a hint of reluctance, she flashed the bright white phone screen to Bruce and let him read the bold black contact letters for himself. He squinted through the sun's glare, but eventually, the word dawned on him.

'Father'

There were a few buttons underneath it, but the one her thumb gently rested over was a neon green one, marked by a stylized phone symbol. She had the open, honest kind of confidence to be mistaken as proud of her future actions, but the expression on her face starkly contradicted these ideas. Salty tears continued to sting her skin, to the extent that even her shirt was wet with the furthest-running drips.

"I— I just wish to make things right," she calmly declared, "with him."

"Things are right this way!" Bruce shouted in response. "He's a manipulative, cruel, murderous villain of a man, Talia, who expectedly let you down the moment you weren't helpful to him anymore. Calling him and pleading that you'll be helpful to him again from now on is only going to make things worse!"

"That's not what I'm doing here," Talia debated, lowering her thumb ever so slightly closer to the button. "I'm trying to let my own father know I love him, not become any horrid villain's pawn."

"If you call him, after what just happened between you two, I doubt it'll just be—"

But before he could even finish his sentence, she had pressed the button. A small beep sound ticked the air, and then the dreaded ringing sounds came. Out of mere instincts and no consideration whatsoever, Bruce lunged over and snatched the phone out of Talia's hands, thrusting it on to the ground. Mud splattered over the top of it and the screen instantly blacked out, but to be sure it was demolished, he began to aggressively stomp on it. Crackling noises stuttered out of the breaking screen and inside electronics with each pounding stomp.

"What are you doing?!" she asked accusingly.

"Keeping you on the good side," Bruce said. "You'll thank me later."

Talia's frown was intense, and her arms were tightly crossed over her chest in anger. Her breaths, as well, were less than content; they mimicked the sounds of whistling pots– quick, high-pitched, loud, and aimed directly at him. But even louder than that was her fast heart, anxious and turbulent in its beating. Her eyes kept their vision locked on her phone, watching every bit of energy drain out of its hardware.

Then, she swiftly looked up from it. She stared at Bruce, and in that glare, her tears became ones of pure rage; Talia ran towards him, with her arms thrown backwards in clenched fists, and began to scream at him. Every aggravated word, another few tears coated her face, and her body stumbled just a little more in dire uncertainty. Drops of spit flew out of her mouth alongside those words.

"How am I supposed to contact him now?" she questioned desperately. "For that matter, how is he supposed to contact me when he inevitably takes back what he said and tries to compassionately solve our conflict. He'll think I'm ignoring him, that I simply don't care! He'll think that I wouldn't feel a thing if he's lonely constantly, or weeps everyday missing me, or even kills himself because he can't handle losing ano—"

"I thought you didn't want him to come around either way," Bruce pointed out. "I thought you just wanted to be done with him."

"I do!" Talia cried, and with those words, she felt a severe cramp in her stomach. "But I don't want to fail him, either, and if that means having to even step up and go to him first, instead of waiting for his own apologies, then so be it. We're a family, if I abandon him–"

The cramps got growingly worse the more she thought about this matter, until, with a mashup of possible scenes and options filling her head to its processing brim, she began to feel downright queasy. A clump of vomit rose in her throat, which she promptly swallowed back down, only for it to rise once again. She blew out thick, spiraling breaths to combat the many sickly feelings.

"Talia, this is ridiculous." Bruce reasoned, wandering forward until he was a mere step in front of her. "Why would you care about abandoning one of the most murderous men on the planet? It says nothing about you. Why would you want to even consider going back to that kind of person? Why would you want to–"

"I don't truly want to go back to him, Beloved," she explained, wincing as the nausea only increased. "I just… I just want my father to be alright."

Her clenched fists finally relaxed, and with that action, so did her frown. It was still present, but the lines of it softened immensely into nothing but a small, sad pout. In a sudden surge of overstimulation, her feet fumbled backwards; they slipped loosely in the dusty surroundings, getting caught on stubs of grass on the way. As the nausea completely took over her balance, Talia nearly went tumbling to the ground before Bruce wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to her feet.

He pecked her cheek tenderly, while keeping his arms tucked around her back. Suddenly, his grip there tightened; his fingers clasped her body up against his in a firm embrace. Talia let him hold her without trouble, much too weary to fight back or continue their argument. In fact, her eyes even began to close comfortably as she rested her head on the top of his shoulder. Bruce now felt trickles of tears spill down his arm, yet he did not do so much as flinch at the water.

The only thing he did was lean over and press his mouth to her ear, whispering a few quiet words.

"...And I just want you to be alright."

[baticorngirl]

Jason sat, silent and almost motionless, on a bright, velvety, royal blue couch. One of his legs was sprawled over the couch’s arm chaotically, while the other one rested on the ends of the cushions below it. His entire torso creased into the fabric diagonally, leaving his head propped against a decorative pillow on the opposite side to his feet.

Jason held a book, tucked between his fingers. His eyes gazed down on it, pupils rocking back and forth with each enticing word. He pulled the book closer to his face until his nose was, quite literally, inside the book. A small, calm, smile dawned his face. Oh, how he loved literature.

But suddenly, Jason’s fast eyes froze. They stared not on the book, but at the room’s entrance. Soft but firm footsteps could be heard right outside, startling Jason from his peaceful joy.

As quick as he could manage, Jason flung his legs up. His torso spun, twisting on the cushions until it was perfectly perpendicular to the couch. He neatly rest his knees right in front of him, and his head popped up into the air as his back straightened into a much more proper position.

But just before he had finished that quick fix-up, the door creaked open. It revealed Ra’s, out of all people, on the other side. Jason cautiously straightened his back up even more.

As Ra’s made his way into the room, the two made eye contact. Slowly and uncomfortably, Jason pulled his book upwards, forcing himself to appear busy. He took a breath, gradually starting to actually read again.

Yet, he noticed Ra’s did not stop his staring. Ra’s quietly huffed, making Jason’s breath stop short. There was judgement in his gaze.

Jason glanced down on himself, attempting to sort out the cause of such disapproval. He wore the average League of Assassins attire, as Talia had given him the clothes several months back. Black clothes with grey and the occasional brown or even gold highlight, just as Ra’s should’ve been happy with.

But Ra’s wasn’t happy. Then again, on behalf of Talia’s “blatant disregard for his authority” that had led to Jason’s current situation, Ra’s never seemed to be happy to see Jason. Oh well. If it came down to it, Jason could just pick up a gun and shoot Ra’s to the ground… if he was willing to handle Talia’s reaction afterwards, that was.

But that was when Jason noticed something;

Ra’s wasn’t looking at Jason, himself. Their eyes didn’t even remotely match up to each other’s gaze. Instead, Ra’s eyes the item propped up between Jason’s hands— his book.

The book had a predominantly red cover, with a dull picture on top of it. The picture covered the whole area, stretching under the words and other labels. A close-up of a statued face, chipped and even slightly blood-covered, was illustrated, showing an discomforting mood overall. Above it, the title read, “Titus Andronicus” in bold dark lettering. But none of that was what Ra’s was fixated on.

Jason gulped. He figured Ra’s would be content -slightly pleased by, even- seeing Jason reading such a classic, complex, and highly-praised story. Generally, he’d found it was younger people that were upset by his natural reading preferences, not old, overly-classy men.

Ra’s’ eyes hardly moved at they focused down on the smaller lettering, though. “William Shakespeare,” it read. The name made him frown intently, and Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in deep puzzlement as to why.

After a second, Ra’s finally got to his original business of entering. His sharp eyes softened as he did so, but didn’t move. He grabbed a book off the shelf, passively resting it under his arm. His eyes still didn’t move as he shifted himself towards the door.

Ra’s loudly grunted, abruptly breaking the silence. Jason, who had slowly started to go back to reading for the second time, popped up from the book, eyes widened.

“Willia- That man,” Ra’s muttered begrudgingly, “That man plagiarized my words. That man stole my beautiful line.” His voice faded with each word, growing even more mumbled under his breath.

Without another word, Ra’s swiftly swung the door open and strutted through it. His eyes bounced away from the book, and back to his natural vision ahead.

From behind, Jason’s mouth dropped, “Huh?” He questioned, uttering the sound as loud as he could to catch Ra’s’ attention. But Ra’s’ neck didn’t spin a single millimeter to look behind.

“Nothing,” He quickly declared, “Talia’s looking for you. You should go to her quarters once you’ve come to a stopping place in your book.”

With one more step, Ra’s was out of view.

Jason scanned over his book, confused. He heard Ra’s continue down hallways, each footstep loud but beginning to get lost in the distance of the huge mansion. He also heard Talia, still quite far away, softly calling his name as she wandered around. But he didn’t get up, not yet. Shock glazed over his curious eyes.

What was that supposed to mean?

[baticorngirl]

Title: Names and Knowledge

Rating: General Audiences Fandom: Batman/DC Relationship(s): Ra's al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Characters: Damian Wayne, Ra's al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth,

Summary:

In an alternate earth where Ra's and Bruce's allyship (as appearing in Batman: Son of the Demon) works out, and where he was raised by both their parents with their families at peace, Damian Wayne-Al Ghul --now raised as anything but an assassin-- finds himself with much more mundane kindergarten problems than if he were a child soldier; homework being the prime opponent. At first, the kindergarten-level "fun homework" type questions are easy for him, causing no stress at all, until one much more puzzling question comes up. Despite his usual intelligence, Damian cannot seem to think of what his parents names are. With the paper due tomorrow morning, and fate constantly edging at his back to keep him from getting his much-needed answers, will Damian be able to find an answer before his school-day bedtime gets the best of him? And if so, will the answer he gets truly be worth all his effort?

But most of all, Damian's biggest doubts lie in a completely different question... is 'Beloved' a real name?

Part 1 of 3 (7.5k of 24.2k total words)

<Click here to read it on Ao3 instead>

<Click here to read Chapter 2>

Author's Note:

This fic was... actually supposed to be short, believe it or not, and CERTAINLY not multiple chapters long. Unfortunately, it seems I'm incapable of that. At least you get more content this way! That being said, because this story ended up being so long, most of the characters/relationships aren't actually for this first chapter, but future ones.

Oh, also, Damian calls his father "Baba" in this, which (I think) means "dad" in arabic, and besides, I've seen other fanfics have him call Bruce this too, so you know... it just seemed cute. I don't actually know anything about the arabic language though (just looked this up), so please let me know if I used it incorrectly.

One more thing I'd like to address is Ra's' characterization in this. If you find it odd and need an explanation for the way I portrayed him, please read the following (but if not, you're also welcome to skip it-- I understand it's kind of long):

It's not how I usually portray him (and definitely not how the MAJORITY of fandom does), so it may come off as out of character to some readers. You are completely allowed to prefer a different characterization (as I've already said, this is rare even for me), and feel free to click off due to that, but it IS still supposed to be based off of canon-- just specifically Batman: Son of the Demon's version, which could be considered slightly out of character in itself compared to some other stories. That being said, I do think it's an interesting take, so using it for this one fanfic was actually quite fun writing-wise. Ra's always has a lot of different perfectly-canonical interpretations (some of which ARE similar to Son of the Demon) of his character anyway, so it's only fair to experiment. I also took some inspiration from Ra's' more recent characterization in the Robin series, since it A) went well with Batman: Son of the Demon's interpretation, and B) I just like it.

Anyway, now I'll let you go ahead and read it! Enjoy!

Damian knew a lot of things.

He knew how to spell "cat" and "dog''. He knew how to count to a hundred, and how to write his name in cursive. He knew that the earth orbited the sun. He knew that there were around three-hundred-sixty dog breeds, and that they were all amazing. He knew his family were all criminals, in one way or another, and that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone that. Damian even knew basic addition, too.

He also knew that if there's one thing kids hate, it's homework– in all of its forms.

"Here, children. These papers I'm passing out will serve as the homework for tonight. Be sure to fill every single question out! We'll need them completed for an activity tomorrow." The teacher's voice rang out loud and clear over the kindergarten class of 21 students. Some were shuffling around in their seat, or letting out whispered giggles with a friend nearby, leaving only around half the class truly paying attention to the words, but she didn't bother to repeat herself.

The anticipated groan of those who were listening, loud yet low in tone, did the job for her. In a mix of realization and mere solidarity, everyone quickly joined in on this loud grumble, flopping over in dramatically exaggerated motions of frustration. The sounds only got louder by the second until, for a mere microsecond, it reached the point of almost sounding like the growling of a lion, just before fading out to let the teacher speak once again. Or, more accurately, for them to go back to their shuffling and side conversations as they ignored her.

The teacher rolled her eyes half-heartedly, "Just look at it before you get too upset, please. It's not even academics." She finished a full circle around the class, putting down a copy on the final desk, leaving only one –her own– left in her hands. Her fingers gently patted that copy, pointing to the words written on it. "In fact, I was hoping it could be fun."

As if on cue, all the kindergarteners immediately bobbed their heads down to look at it, a few squinting at the words.

Damian was not squinting, though. Damian read it swiftly. He was seated at the back of the class, in a bright orange child-sized chair that was directly behind a tan-colored desk, which of course was also much shorter than adult height. A fan, which sat only a few feet away from his desk, blew at the corners of his sheet.

He'd always been one of the better readers of his class; Damian had been read many bedtime stories when he was younger, and had been encouraged to give his best attempt at reading every one of them on his own. Besides, he was generally considered naturally gifted at school work. Thus, as he stared down at it, words like 'different,' 'everyday,' 'common,' and even 'passions' stood no match against his curious little green eyes.

"It's a list of questions about you and your families, that's all." The teacher explained, "Nothing to stress about, it shouldn't take too long. Although it's preferred, I don't even ask you to necessarily write in full-length sentences. Just try to answer each question in some way, and ask a parent or sibling for help if you need it. Now, before we start getting ready for dismissal, does anyone have any questions?"

A couple kids raised their hands, both of which got their questions answered in less than a minute. Mostly, they were about what a particular word meant or what they should do if they can't find a specific answer, so Damian stopped paying attention. He began to scan his eyes over the paper, quietly thinking each answer to himself.

"No more questions? Alright then, let's start p–" The loud announcement made Damian's head pop back up. His mouth drifted open, but in a mindlessly aloof manner. It hung there in a blank expression as the teacher glanced at the clock. "Actually, it appears we have some extra time, so why don't you guys get started on the paper? I'll give you, let's see… three minutes? Hopefully by the end of that you kids will have little enough work left to stop your groans."

She let out a small laugh, but then swiftly plopped down on her desk and looked down at her own stack of papers. With a sigh, she began her own much more challenging work.

Clack! Damian grabbed his pencil up from the desk, only to immediately throw its tip directly onto the papers so he could begin writing. It was undeniably basic, with him knowing most answers immediately upon sight of them. Damian smirked. His arm swung left and right, up and down as he wrote each answer down as fast as he could, as if racing to be able to complete it before the time ended.

'What's your (full) first name?'

'Do you have any nicknames?'

'What's your last name(s)?'

'Do you have any siblings? If so, how many?'

It was easy. Other than perhaps a spelling mistake or two, Damian had several questions fully completed by the time the first minute was up. His smirk only grew, pushing at his cheekbones. Damian's eyes narrowed with a sudden burst of determination, and yet again, he sped several questions ahead.

'When is your birthday?'

'What's your favorite song?'

'What's your favorite food?'

'Do you have any pets? If so, what animal(s) are they?'

Damian especially liked this question. He wrote not only in full sentences, but managed to come up with an entire 4 sentences detailing his love for his pets. In fact, as he scribbled in the last couple words, he just barely didn't run out of room on the piece of paper. At this point, the corners of his lips had risen so much he was outright grinning at the thought of such beloved animals.

"My parents' names?" Damian's eyebrows suddenly furrowed, letting the grin get swiftly wiped off of his face. This one, unfortunately, was not as easy. For a split second, he'd almost let his pen drop down and write "Mama" and "Baba" but the unfortunate truth was that he knew, as much as he used them, those were not their names. Not the ones the school was looking for, at least.

He bit his lip. Damian would not settle for an inadequate answer. Specifically, the Son of both the Bat and one of the most intelligent assassins around, would not settle for an inadequate answer. He was not that weak.

His mouth flopped into a pout, unable to recall any other names besides the ones he'd been taught to call them. His mind felt blank.

Damian knew a lot of things, but apparently, he did not know his own parent's names.

Now frustrated, he shook his head furiously before skipping over that question and moving on to the rest of the papers. He could do his figuring once he was home, where surely he'd hear their names said more than enough times to be able to write them down– or his idea of how their names seemed like they should be spelled, at least.

Fortunately for him, or perhaps even unfortunately, depending on how his rushing hands considered it, dismissal came quickly. The teacher hollered out instructions to the clumps of children as they all hurried off to the hooks and cubbies where their belongings were kept. Hands reached over one another, so buried in chaos that from an outsider's perspective, one could never truly tell which hand even belonged to each child. It was messy, to say the least, but as they did every dismissal time, these shoves and grabs sorted out the bags in a timely-enough manner.

Damian quickly slung his backpack over his shoulder. It had little faces dotted all over it, each one the face of a different cartoon-ishly-drawn animal. Although perhaps it was childish or even 'uncool' by a certain kind of person's standards, Damian liked the backpack. Animals were an interesting matter, with each species that was shown on his backpack having its own complex body and genetic makeup. He felt the undeniable sophistication and maturity of the scientists that discovered those things lay upon his back as he walked through the halls and out to the front door.

He was smiling again as he went. His swift legs carried him to the front of the clump, arms swirling about with a sense of confident eagerness. As they reached the doors and the windows nearby, his eyes were the first to peer out and get a good glance at the crowds of parents parked outside, all waiting to pick up a child or two. Even in those mere seconds he could look, his eyes immediately scanned the area for his own family, searching for a parent, Alfred, or even a limo to show they were out there.

Damian couldn't seem to find anything, especially before the impatient students behind him quickly nudged him forward and out through the door.

Outside, Damian scanned again. Nothing. He frowned. They normally got here on time, or even early. His eyebrows furrowed in a way that almost imitated his detective of a father, evaluating which one would be more likely to be late. His father had Batman duties that jumped up at even the most random or uncoordinated times, so perhaps it was him. His eyes then opened wide with delight at that thought. Surely, if it was his father that had come to pick him up, he'd figure out his name soon based on what his 'Dad friends' called him, and possibly figure out what his mother's name was, too, if she came up in their conversation. It was a good plan, assuming his inherited detective skills were not wrong.

Suddenly, interrupting Damian's train of thought, an arm reached around him and grabbed his whole body up from the ground. His mouth dropped open in surprise, speechless as someone squished him up against themself and patted his back with a firm grip.

It was not Talia. Her arms were not this big, and judging by how far up from the ground he'd gotten picked up, Damian doubted she was this tall, either. It was not Bruce, either, for his pick-up style was always much more passive, yet also swifter than this. It was also not Alfred, who wouldn't have picked him up without giving a formal greeting.

Damian twisted his head upwards to look at this unknown person. He blinked at the man, more than startled.

The Demon's Head. Ra's Al Ghul. A Demon in every right, and one worth legends. A murderer, but also a conquerer. Someone to be feared by every inch of one's mind and body, and someone to give up on all hope of survival once he determines you his enemy. In fact, once you even see the sight of such a sinister and powerful figure, you shall give up most of that hope already. The Head of the Demon, in all his glory, stared down at Damian with quiet eyes.

Ra's smiled, "How was school? I hope you paid attention to every little detail, as knowledge is p–" Abruptly, he cut himself off and frowned. "Damian, you look a little shaken, did you forget I was picking you up today?"

The Head of the Demon…. Otherwise known as Damian's grandpa.

"My parents never told me about it," Damian replied. He looked downwards, awkward in the carrying position Ra's was holding him in. He shifted slightly, subtly fidgeting. "Are you sure you're even allowed to pick me up? I thought you were a very dangerous, heavily-searched-for criminal!"

"Shhhh. First of all, there's no need to announce it in front of all these protective parents… Second of all, just because the authorities hate me doesn't mean they necessarily know who it is they're attempting to take captive." Ra's shrugged, "Your parents have probably already emailed your teachers that your grandparents were picking you up today, assuming even that much is necessary, so no one will suspect a thing. I keep my profile low enough that the world will recognize me by nothing but possibly my name, and even then, those legends only circulate in certain areas. There's no reason I'm more incapable of picking you up than Mr. Pennyworth. Don't worry about it."

"Oh," Damian's eyes squinted in quiet thoughtfulness. He bit his lip. "But what if you do get recognized? My parents told me that the police will try to chase you then! That doesn't seem worth picking me up for."

"Seriously, Damian. You have no reason to be concerned in the slightest." Ra's' mouth rested in a slight frown, but one that did not curl downwards, instead making a harsh straight line between his lips. "If worst comes to worst, it's astonishing what the fear factor can do on an exhausted teacher."

"Oh," Damian repeated. This time, he stayed silent in his thoughtfulness.

"Your parents just needed a break, Damian," His grandfather continued to explain. To Damian's delight, he slowly began to lower Damian to the ground, switching from picking him up to simply holding his small hand. "Besides, I was more than happy to spend some time with my grandson, and have some quality time to advise him before he gets too far in life for the advice to help…. That's the job of grandparents, isn't it?"

Damian shrugged, but then nodded, "But it's also to spoil us. You don't have a drop of candy in your house, do you? That needs to change." He let out a quiet, mischievous giggle.

"Unfortunately, that would go against the advice I'm trying to guide you with," Ra's' mouth creased into an even more distinct frown. He began to lead Damian away from the school and towards the parking lot, head high in the air where Damian couldn't even catch a glimpse of his eyes anymore. "We're going to need to allow someone else to pick up that duty, instead."

"You're failing in your duties, Grandfather?" Damian giggled again, "That's sad."

To his dismay, he got no answer, but rather was simply pulled along at an increasingly rapid pace towards the neat arrays of colorful cars in front of them in silence.

After a brief minute of this, Ra's spoke again, "I know what you're really wondering. How did I convince your father to allow me to take care of you without his supervision, especially for such a long period of time?" His frown quickly faded with the change of subject.

Damian felt his grandfather squeeze his hand as they crossed the street. Both their shoes made thumping sounds against the bumpy gravel, bouncing over bold, thick white lines. At this point, they'd made it past the parking lot, and over to the sidewalks on the streets nearby. Damian looked left and right unsurely as Ra's tugged his hand around each bend or turn in their steps. When he glanced backwards, his school was getting increasingly smaller in the distance.

"He's unbelievably protective of you, Damian. I'm your grandfather, so you'd think he'd trust me to protect you if danger arose, but –as the whole kilometer-long list he gave me would prove– that's clearly not the case." Ra's' eyebrows in subtle amusement, "It's as if he doesn't even realize that I took care of your mother constantly when she was a child! If I'm capable of raising a child, you would think I could be trusted with one for a mere afternoon! …Although your father is an intelligent man, sometimes he really can be quite unnecessarily paranoid."

Damian's eyes squinted in the bright sunlight, getting only more confused when Ra's led him around another corner and down another road. Now, he couldn't see even the tiniest glimpse of his school in the distance, with both buildings and the space between them and the school getting in the way. He frowned. Ra's brought him to another crosswalk, pulling him over it the moment the traffic cleared.

"As a matter of fact, one of those rules was to always hold your hand at crosswalks,"

"Wait, you both read and listened to the rules my father gave you?" Damian's eyes opened wide in surprise, "That's new. I thought your goal was to advise me, and generally your advice includes taking risks and regaining courage so you can not be afraid to get world domi– world domina…. World taking-over."

"Oh, no. Although I respect him, those rules are too much to be respected," Ra's replied, immediately shaking his head side to side in a rapid motion. "I did no more than glance over the list –which by the way, you will not be telling him– and happened to notice that one, mostly because it seemed so utterly ridiculous that I had to take a moment to let out a chuckle about it to myself. In fact—"

Without a moment's warning, Ra's ripped his hand away from Damian, who's eyes then opened even wider.

"—Surely you can handle following me across the road on your own, no?"

Damian stood there, blinking with a shocked expression plaguing his face, without moving another inch. He looked around himself, searching for some kind of reason for Ra's' sudden departure. He spun around in a full circle, only to see Ra's even further ahead of him, beginning to leave him behind. Fortunately, Damian finally followed, frantically running to catch up.

"See? I'm telling you, he's completely underestimating not only my ability, but yours, as well. If I were you, I'd be offended by the assumed incompetence." Once Damian caught up, Ra's looked down at the child, pure frustration in his gaze. "Please, don't make his mistakes. Don't underestimate your enemies, but also do not underestimate your family and friends. They're capable of a lot, as well, both to your benefit and to your demise. You must be aware."

Still a bit confused, Damian softly shrugged.

Soon, they arrived at a fancy car, big and luxurious like Bruce's limousines but with even more complex, old-fashioned details. It made a gentle vrooming sound as they sped off, over to a League of Assassins hideout placed just outside Gotham's borders. Damian uncomfortably laid his backpack next to him. His eyes bounced around the new vehicle, taking in its uncommon and abstract yet undeniably impressive features. He fidgeted in his seat with excitement and intrigue.

Once they got to the hideout, Ra's immediately ushered Damian to a table for some afternoon tea.

"As I was saying way before, when we got so quickly interrupted with your confusion, did you learn anything of interest while you were at your education institution?"

Damian and Ra's were seated in one of the courtyards, letting a soft breeze tickle at their backs as they sipped their tea. The sun glared down on them, bouncing on the rims of the cups, teapot, and sugar bowl, shimmering on their reflective, glassy surface. The table underneath the dishes glinted a bit as well. It wasn't a very large table, with the ability to seat only maybe one more person before they ran out of room, but for two people drinking nothing but tea, it served its purpose fine. Damian leaned back on his chair, feeling the rough fabric of the backpack strap, which he hadn't had a chance to do more than casually hang on his chair, itching at his back. Meanwhile, Ra's sat up straight with a much crisper, neater appearance than the child.

Damian thought about his grandfather's question for a moment, "No….Well, they taught us about penguins and how they protect and warm their eggs before hatching, but nothing you'd find to be of interest." He ended up shaking his head, slow but certain, just before quietly snorting and letting out a soft chuckle. "You would've hated it! They didn't even say a single thing about the meaning of life at all!"

"I didn't say I was expecting them to," Ra's replied monotonously. He didn't return Damian's upbeat laughter in the slightest. "It is their duty to teach you the basics of the world– the concrete, hard facts. But the meaning of life? That's my job to teach you."

A smile did begin to creep out with the last line, drastically contrasting his previous lack of emotion.

"And your job…. To learn and discover for yourself, Damian."

He pushed himself up from his seat to lean in closer to Damian. His hand, firm in its movements, reached over to pet the soft hair that stuck up from Damian's head. He ruffled it up playfully, letting his smile quickly increase. Ra's' eyes stared into Damian's, much more upbeat but still sincere in every word he spoke.

"It's your life. You decide the meaning, not those teachers. You can decide it based on their concrete facts, if it is what pleases you, but you can also base it off of the facts you find in your own experiences, as you're out there finding yourself." He jolted his chin downward, almost as if he was mimicking half a nod to settle the statements into Damian's head. "All that matters is that you must give your life meaning, and you must make an impact… For not only yourself, and for the sake of proving yourself worthy of the privilege of life, but for proving yourself worthy of the legacy your family passes down to you, and the privilege of that. You must make every minute worth something, Damian. You cannot settle for less than your full potential and you cannot be any less than fully ambitious, for no other reason than that you can. You must be powerful, because whatever do you get from being less than such? That…. Those intricate meanings and ways to see past simple choices– they are my job to teach you. Perhaps it is not my business to decide what defines you, but I will guide you on the right path to prove yourself in the most honorable ways. I am your elder, therefore I have wisdom I shall pass down to you. Do you understand?"

Damian nodded, but as Ra's continued prattling on and on about every little detail of what the meaning of life meant and what it means to find your own meaning, all of which meant just about nothing to a five-year-old, he stopped paying the slightest bit of attention. Ra's' 'wisdom' got boring quickly. He tapped his fingers on the table and let his eyes wander away from Ra's in exasperated boredom.

Suddenly, his back felt the backpack strap again. Damian's eyes lit up with a realization; he still had his backpack, right there and handy to grab.

In a single swift motion, Damian grabbed the backpack right off the back of his chair and into his lap. Damian carelessly flung the zipper to the opposite side and tugged out his homework papers, sticking his tongue out in speedy focus. He pulled out a pencil, as well, and immediately continued writing down answers. Ra's titled his head at the sudden action, but, to Damian's delight, was too deep into the spirit of his speech to bother doing any more.

As Ra's went on and on, getting just the slightest bit louder in hopes it would make Damian pay attention to his 'important advice,' Damian kept working on his homework and paying absolutely no attention. But Ra's still thought he was, if only a little, so Damian reached the end of his homework questions on what was probably only the sixth paragraph of the 10-page-long meaning of life essay Ra's had mentally constructed. He frowned. This meant he might have to start listening to his grandfather again.

Then Damian remembered about the question he'd been forced to skip.

He flipped back to that page, purposely making more noise with the papers than necessary to drown Ra's out. He narrowed his eyes at it, then glanced back at Ra's. He likely wouldn't get a chance to see his parents, or hear what people called them, until much too late in the day. Damian's eyes bounced back and forth rapidly. Ra's was not a preferred person to ask. He was too serious about these things, and not casual enough to shrug a question off, but also too casual with his conversation-starting to give a swift answer. But, nevertheless, there wasn't exactly anyone else to ask, so he gulped down his doubts and opened his mouth.

"...of which Talia showed in many ways, including her achievements as one of my most trusted assassins, and when conflicts came, proved herself even a relatively worthy enemy. If that is her life choice, then…"

Damian, who had just then leaned forward to Ra's to speak, started listening to a small section of his grandfather's rambling. He suddenly smirked. As if meant to be, he'd managed to overhear what was clearly his mother's name in just that fragment.

'Talia.'

He scribbled it down as quickly as he could before going right back to listening. Ra's wasn't mentioning his father's name at all. Spit welled at the back of his throat, which he quickly swallowed and opened his mouth for a second time. He would not be as lucky with his father as with his mother, it was clear.

"...illustrates the importance of earth in all our lives, therefore embarking the mea–"

"What's my father's name?" Damian blurted out, cutting Ra's off mid-sentence.

Ra's' eyes opened wide, blinking in surprise. His eyebrows furrowed and tilted downward, as if attempting to sort out the reasoning behind Damian's sudden question, and what, exactly, his father's name had to do with the meaning of life. Did he seriously think 'Batman' was the meaning of life? Ra's' mouth gaped open.

"I– I was given this homework sheet, you see. His name is, um… needed." Damian's cheeks turned red as the slightest bit more self-awareness made it into his mind. He looked downward at the paper. "But I'm afraid I've forgotten his exact name, so if you could–"

Ra's still had one more question, which he swiftly interrupted with, "Damian…. You– You don't know your own father's name?"

Damian's cheeks, already so flushed with embarrassment, got even more red.

"How old are you again, my boy?" Ra's began to let out a stifled laugh at Damian. "I thought you had already matured from toddler age."

"Five years old," In some desperate attempt to impress his grandfather out of laughing, Damian puffed his chest out with forced confidence. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin up high. "But, in my 'education institution' we recently did the complex figuring of our age by a different measurement. Months, to be specific. I easily cal– calcul… calculated that my age was, um, 66 months. 12 months in a year, they told us, so with the time since my birthday, that's what it obviously added up to."

"Ah, I see," Ra's' laugh faded, but his amusement did not, "That's good. They're teaching you basic common sense."

Damian frowned, letting his confident pose quickly slip away from him. He popped his mouth open again, only to close it after another second. He looked downwards, unsure what to say. Ra's paused in his chatting, as well, but only for a moment. As Damian's cheeks returned to their embarrassed redness, he began to speak in a slightly less patronizing tone. His eyes looked so upwards that they didn't quite look at Damian, but looked right over the short child's head.

"I say that with the utmost sarcasm, of course. Not that I expect you to be able to fully recognize sarcasm at such an inexperienced age." Ra's' head tilted to one side, but then, in a quite abrupt motion, switched to the other. "But, in all reality, it is very much a good thing that they are teaching you common sense. I expect you to graduate, hopefully quite soon, to more complex subjects like science and literature of those wiser than you so you can get an uncommon sense of the world, beyond those around you– yet common sense is still undoubtedly important. It is the baseline of all sense, truly. It is where you start. First, you are saying the amount of months old, then the days old, then the maturity and brain stages on a scientific level. It's all connected, and hence, it's always good to be learning common sense. It will always come in handy, in everything, so in some ways, it may be superior to even the–"

Throughout Ra's' second speech of the day, Damian's body language quickly faded in its nerves. Instead of hunching over, he looked back up at Ra's with once-again eager eyes. With a gentle thwap, Damian slapped the side of the table as a sudden burst of assertiveness came rushing in. He crossed his arms neatly over his chest before repeating his original question, this time much louder.

"Yes yes, of course, but more importantly," His hand hit the table once again, "What is my father's name? I suffered this cruel humiliation, all to not even get my question answered?"

"Cruel humiliation?" Ra's cocked an eyebrow at Damian, "That's a strong word for a few teasing sentences, Young Boy. I'd like to believe you're only being sarcastic or making a subtle joke, but if you really do view that as humiliation or even cruelty, I can respect a fellow man's internal suffering. After all, you were quite… courageous asking such a meaningless question. It's always important that–"

"Just. Answer. The. Question." Damian's mouth flopped into the biggest pout he'd done all day.

"Of course. I apologize, Grandson," Ra's swiftly nodded, but he paused in his speech immediately after. Damian tapped his fingers against the table as aggressively and loudly as he could to express his pure frustration, all while watching Ra's calmly pick up his teacup, press it slowly to his mouth, only to take even longer lowering it back down. "The detective's name is–"

Just as Ra's was finally beginning to say it, Damian jumped up from his seat, "Oh, wait! Of course! 'The detective!' You're always calling him that. No wonder you believed me to be foolish before. It's so obvious that 'the detective' is my father's name. I apologize for ever making a fool out of myself by not realizing it before."

He grabbed his pencil, shoving it down hard onto the paper before aggressively scribbling down the words as fast as his fingers could possibly manage. His mouth curled upwards on one side in a pleasant smirk, completely unaware of the look his grandfather's own face was quickly spiraling into. Ra's leaned over, pressing his forehead to his palm in a facepalm, all with exhausted limbs.

"My god," He muttered, letting a breath huff out of his nose loudly, "You're hopeless."

"What do you mean?" Damian had just finished writing the words down, and was beginning to lift his eyes back up. He had finally noticed Ra's' reaction to the whole name assumption, and despite his earlier confidence, was less than pleased. "I just figured out the name, all on my own. Aren't you proud?"

Ra's sighed, "The 'Detective' is not a name, and if it were, your father would be made fun of to a torturous level. It's just a nickname, Damian. It's quite obviously just a nickname… or a title, really. Something I call him out of honor and respect, to signify our relationship as equals. Just like how your mother and father will sometimes call you things like 'sweetheart' or other terms of endearment, 'Detective' is a term of, well… respect."

"Oh…" The excitement immediately fell out of Damian's eyes. For a moment, his body language portrayed passiveness, just before getting abruptly more aggressive. He scoffed, "Well how was I supposed to know that?"

"Perhaps the fact that it's just a word? It's not even something like 'violet'. I doubt there's one person in the whole world named 'Detective'. Nobody is that insane." Ra's held out his hands out in slow but expressive gestures, rolling his palms up as if showing Damian imaginary physical objects in the air.

Damian scoffed repeatedly a couple more times, but didn't say another word. He slowly began to erase 'the detective' from his homework answer.

"Now, since you wanted so badly to know what his actually name is, it's B–"

Boom! Just as Damian was writing down a B at the mere glimpse of the sound, a giant noise cut off their conversation. Out of instinct, both Damian and Ra's threw their hands over their ears, expecting another boom, which unfortunately did follow. Ra's' eyebrows furrowed with concern. He quickly got up to deal with the matter, completely forgetting the previous topic.

"Get under the table, Damian. I haven't had a chance to teach you any defense skills yet, so if this situation is as bad as it sounds, you could be in real danger if anyone too bad were to find you. I don't want to see you get hurt. For your sake, and for mine… but also for the sake of not having to break the news to your poor parents."

Then, without another word, Ra's grabbed a sword out from his belt and sprinted away.

Damian stood in shock for a moment, but as soon as he recovered, he quietly began to pull himself underneath the table as demanded. He was not used to being in these kinds of situations, even with the dangerous parents he had, so his body was a bit shaky as he did so. Fortunately, nothing happened while he waited for Ra's to return.

Apparently, it hadn't even been quite as bad as it sounded. Ra's had later explained the situation as he calmly reached his hand out to Damian to help him out from under the furniture. There were simply several very noisy accidents at the weapon-holding centers, and no dangerous intruders at all.

"The accident involved several grenades going off at the same time, due to some issues with them A) having the pins put in improperly when they were first made, and B) having some incorrect stacking on part of the transporters." Ra's had said in a smooth monotone, "An entire pile in the storage wing went down and exploded. Obviously, that does pose a certain level of danger, but not to fear– there were very few people nearby when the incident arose, and even those who were, got lucky. The doctors have assured that all injuries of theirs are not permanent in the slightest."

Ra's still didn't finish answering the previous question, though, as the entire ruckus had immediately sprung his brain far elsewhere.

"It's… a pity that you were so helpless you had to hide under furniture like a mere civilian, Damian." He tapped a finger against his chin and rubbed it in deep thought. He spoke slowly and carefully with each rebellious word. "If I let you train with a gun here, and your father found it, he'd kill me, and I wish I were exaggerating even in the slightest. But a sword? Oh, I think he'll survive, as long as we're nice and careful. You'll be careful, won't you, Damian? Can you keep a secret for your grandfather?"

A glint of sparkling mischievous joy glimmered from the corner of Damian's pupils. He could figure out his homework later, when he wasn't being given the chance to turn into a real-life ninja. He immediately nodded.

They spent the rest of the afternoon not just starting the beginner training of the sword and hand-to-hand combat (the tiniest bit of the latter, Ra's was happy to discover, Damian already knew), but also breaking nearly every other rule on Bruce's list. Although Ra's didn't train him in it, he showed Damian his favorite gun with a smile on his face, and then took him to talk to all sorts of dangerous assassins before leading Damian over to the Lazarus Pit room for a quick peek at the majestic liquid.

All of these things, Damian was fascinated by. The time passed quickly– even quicker than he would've hoped, as a matter of fact. Before he knew it, it was after dinner and he was already leaving to go back home.

As Damian was on the car ride back, with his backpack by his side for the second time, he realized something. His homework was still in there, unfinished. In all this madness, he'd forgotten about the previous question obnoxiously quickly.

Damian knew a lot of things, but he still did not know his own father's name.

His heartbeat quickened in his chest, beginning to thump in his ear. Damian's eyes popped wide open in a dreadful startle. He started to kick his feet back and forth, quicker and quicker while he processed the severity of his issue, all of which he could've solved earlier by simply reminding his grandfather. Now, when he considered the time his parents would be making him go to bed, he realized something bad; there was less than two hours left.

Frantically, Damian looked over to his grandfather, getting ready to ask him for a second time. After the tormenting humiliation of even asking such a dumb question once, he surely couldn't mentally bear another person knowing of his forgetfulness. He had to ask now, or never.

"Grandfather, you never told me what his name was," Damian's tone sped up with his nervous breaths, "You know. Baba's."

"Hurry up!" Hardly listening, Ra's shoved Damian towards the door. He swung his arm around Damian, opening the door in front of him, only to pick the child straight up and plop him down outside the vehicle. Damian's mouth opened wide with confusion and surprise as Ra's put his fingers back into the door's handle, already ready to close it and leave Damian there, but not before he said one last piece of explanation. "Go, Damian! Run in there! It's over ten minutes past the time that I promised to give you back, and for all your parents know, I dropped you off earlier only for them to not notice you until n–"

"But my question!" Damian frantically interrupted, "As I've already said, I've been tormented by your mocking, only to not receive an answer. Do you really want me to have to be tormented for the second time, asking my parents?!"

"You don't have to admit your lack of knowledge fully if you are so set on it, Damian. All you must do is be observant. As I've already said, you can ask the 'teachers' of your life for the concrete facts, or you can discover them for yourself." Ra's advised. His jaw sprung up and down, as did his tongue, in a rapid motion. Every word came out in the quickest manner his mouth could do, not thinking about the statements at all. "Just…. Watch what your mother calls him."

Immediately after finishing saying this, Ra's slammed the door shut on Damian. The driver, perfectly on cue, took less than a second to slam down on the gas pedal and tug the car straight out of there. Ra's picked his hand up, pushing it close to the window as he quickly waved at Damian, all while the vehicle gradually pulled him farther and farther away.

Unaccepting of this type of a farewell, Damian followed the car's path. He reached his arm straight out in some desperate attempt to stop it. His short legs scrambled over each big, rushed step, going as fast as he could with his run while also losing the car at a terribly quick rate.

"But in the time you were saying that, you could've just told me his actual name!" Damian reasoned between his panicked breaths, "It would've only taken a second…. Or two, I'm not sure how long his name is, but would that not have been easier than giving me that long explanation of your advice? It would've saved you some time, at least, unless he's got the longest name in the entire world!"

Did he have the largest name in the entire world?

Suddenly, Damian was very unsure. He blinked, attempting to process the puzzling idea.

Unfortunately for him, though, Ra's didn't hear a single word of his pleas. The vehicle was already far, far ahead at this point– much too far away to hear one small boy's frantic cries for help.

Damian slid to a stop, letting his sneakers make a loud squealing noise at the sudden loss of movement. His chest, which earlier he had puffed out with such confidence, could do nothing but sorrowfully cave deep into his body with each wailing cascade of rapid breaths. The exhaustion suddenly kicked in, making him lean forward as he caught his breath. His eyes still kept their gaze upwards to the fullest extent, though, and they stayed glued on to the dark vehicle that was making its way up the next road out from the house.

He managed to pull out a few more steps in front of him, only to see the vehicle become smaller and smaller in the distance.

With the evening mist swarming in to cover its tail, the car faded off into the distance, and as the dark paint of it seemed to glimmer just one last time only to disappear completely, so did Damian's hope.

Bam! His knees promptly hit the ground, right as his lips began to silently quiver. The feeling of rough gravel scraped at his lower legs, even through his pants. His head hung, letting the weight of his pressing struggle push at his back.

Damian knew a lot of things, and one of them was that he couldn't possibly admit to his parents that he didn't know their names. No matter what, he had to find another way.

As he sat there, on the cold, uneven ground, he considered that thought. He considered his grandfather's rushed suggestions, and he considered the thoughts of his parents and siblings, all of which were right inside the manor's fancy blue door, which he also considered. His pants were getting dirty and dusty from this position, as were his hands, but Damian did not move. Not even when he considered the long bath his parents would surely make him take if they saw him like this, and how boring that would be –possibly even more boring than Ra's' old voice– for him once he returned back inside. He considered the rubber duckies, too, which hardly made it any better for him. He rolled his eyes for a second, but then thought back to his father's name again, and his eyes softened. Although a bit gloomy in the sky, it wasn't actually storming, but Damian was pretty sure he heard some thunder boom in the distance at his utter misery. That misery being, of course, having to take a bath… and, of course –as his distracted mind had to quickly remind himself– losing his dignity over the horribly forgotten name.

It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps sitting on the ground and getting dirty, instead of observing his parents' discussions for clues, probably wasn't helpful.

He pouted, wanting to wait longer for some actual lightning so he could let the power of it wrestle through him dramatically like his father did at night. It was so unfair, how only adults got to do those stuff, sometimes even at midnight, while he just had to sleep through it. But, nonetheless, he slowly pushed himself up.

Damian kicked pebbles on the ground as he made his way over to the door. He plotted each foot heavily, still deep in his melancholy. Dawdling, lingering, or even loitering on his own family's property. The air was still. He felt no rush anymore, no pounding in his chest to get the answer he wanted, even as the time until bedtime was quickly running out behind him. There had been a very light sprinkle of rain an hour before, leaving puddles surrounding Damian, but he was so quiet that he resisted the urge to even splash in those.

His heartbeat was completely and utterly calm…. Until it wasn't.

All his 'symbolic' dramatic sadness and movie-style defeated-hero poses (which he, of course, had been making for several minutes now) were quickly thrown out the window, leaving just his average five-year-old life, when he saw his parents swing the door open. They paraded out to greet him, and in unison, both their arms wrapped around him in embarrassingly affection hugs.

Despite this, Damian was grateful for their interruptions. It meant he was back to his mission, back to his clean focus of achieving his goal. He was not giving up.

He would never give up, no– Damian was an achiever, not a quitter. Specifically, the Son of both the Bat and one of the most intelligent assassins around, was an achiever, not a quitter. Just like how he was not weak enough to settle for an inadequate answer, he was certainly not weak enough to fail to get any answer at all.

Damian quickly checked his watch, reading it with a focused, ambitious gaze too strong to let the worrisome numbers scare him.

He had to find his father's name, double check it for accuracy to make sure it wasn't just as inadequate as 'Baba', and then write it down with a decent-enough spelling that night, before he went to bed….

….All in the 1 hour and 34 minutes he had left.

Damian gulped.

Ending Author's Note:

Even though he's the currently the main adult here, I do not condone Ra's' actions/attitude or think anyone should repeat them in real life. First of all, I do not believe in his definition of the meaning of life. Although my own perspective is similar, I actually believe that what he says about "proving yourself worthy of the privilege of life" is quite harmful. Life is a right, not a privilege, and it's your life to do what you please with it. You should not have to prove yourself "worthy" to anyone, including your family and everyone else in your life, blah blah blah...

Okay so basically, don't trust this fanfic to know the meaning of life.

I also do not condone him letting a five-year-old cross the road without holding his hand. Oh, and there's also the fact that he's an assassin... don't murder people either, kids!

[baticorngirl]

Title: “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Ra’s Al Ghul, Dusan Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko & Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul & Dusan Al Ghul,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko, Dusan Al Ghul,

Summary: Bruce Wayne, an average (other than his parent's death) billionaire, was nervous. Very, very, nervous. It was a simple task, really, but meeting his girlfriend's family seemed rather intimidating at the moment. She has mentioned her father being strict or whatnot many times, and it had gotten many worries to arrive in his mind.

Unfortunately, Bruce had every right to be worried.

A/N: I don't own the characters, DC does.

This fic was originally made (or at least started) for @brutalia-week​ Day 4: Family. Since I wasn't able to finished it in time, I tried to make it a "day 8" kind of thing.... although I'm a teeny bit late for that, too, lol. It was originally just supposed to be a short humor fanfic, but... let's just say it got out of hand. Fair warning that some of the characters may be a teeny bit OOC (nothing too bad, though) because of humor or just plot-convenience.

For context, this takes place in an alternate universe where Bruce doesn't become Batman, but that's the only big difference. Anyway, enjoy!

Related Links: Read it on FF.Net (x), Read it on Ao3(x),

Day 1(x), Day 2(x), Day 3(x), Day 5(x), Day 6(x), Day 7(x),

______________________________________________________

Bruce was uncomfortable. His tie felt itchy, and hot, like a fever that somehow didn't spread to his forehead. In fact, his whole body felt hot, and the tiniest bit shaky. Bruce's stomach twisted up in a knot, making his face turn visibly red with discomfort. His breathing was a bit quicker and shorter than normal. He was nervous. Very, very, nervous. But considering the situation, he had every right to be.

Talia and him had been dating for quite a while now. Over 6 months, actually. They met up when they could, and every time they went on a date, they started enjoying each other's company more, and more, and more. Talia often had things she needed to do, though, and they would often come up out of what seemed to be nowhere. She'd always say she just had an assignment from work of some kind, but it often occurred to Bruce that she never mentioned what she did as a profession.

Perhaps, today would be the day he found out. Now that their relationship was feeling more serious, Talia had finally decided she would introduce her boyfriend to her parents, and the rest of her family. It had taken some convincing for her to do it, but her father had been adamant that meeting and evaluating any of her potential husbands was necessary.

"What if they're not worthy?" He had insisted, pacing back and forth in urgency. "What if they plan to spy on you, or hurt you, or are simply a failure? Besides, my Dear Daughter, what's the issue with him meeting us? Please, tell me you're not seriously acting embarrassed of your own family at this age." Ra's stopped to look at her, a disappointed look on his face.

"I-" Talia hadn't wanted to upset him, or even worse, make her view her as immature. She sighed, "Fine, but please…. try to stay calm with him. Be understanding if he's not quite up to your qualifications of worthy, and…. Just try not to kill him, okay? You can be very overwhelming, and although he's a very nice man, he's not used to murderers." She had tried to put it lightly, but truthfully, she wanted to yell the list of commands in his face. It was ridiculous -absolute ludicrous- that she had to tell him such simple things.

"Of course, Daughter. Whatever makes you most comfortable." Ra's smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately. Yet again, she was reminded by why she had spared his feelings, but quickly forgot it as he spoke again. "But you can't truly expect me to hide my whole personality, can you? I'll try to make sure there's minimal stabbing at the family dinner that night, but you can only expect so much of me."

Talia had stared at him, with her eyes squinted with concern, but she pushed a smile on her face regardless. "J- Just do your best, Father. Thank you." The minute she had gotten out of the room, though, her smile immediately dropped. She let out a huge, tired, sigh. She loved her family, but sometimes she just wished they could hold their murderous instincts in for a moment.

Now, as her and Bruce inched towards the door, Talia felt that wish more than she ever had before. Even if Bruce was nervous, thinking of the times Talia had mentioned her Father being strict, controlling, and painfully traditional, he was nothing compared to Talia. She flinched every few moments. Her every instinct told her to lead Bruce away, to come up with an excuse, but it was too late now. She gulped. Maybe, if she had the best luck in the world, her father would only talk about his Endangered-Species-Saving Programs, and not his Murder-Most-Humans program.

But when Bruce looked down at her, he felt a sense of excitement. He surely hadn't heard the best things from Talia about her family, but if they have raised someone as wonderful as Talia, he was sure they couldn't be too bad. He knew they may not have the most similarities, but wasn't caring about Talia the most important similarity of all?

Despite his slight optimism, inside the Al Ghul house, not everyone was on their best behavior. Screams echoed through the dining room as everyone got settled down. Nyssa and Ra's, specifically, were the ones having the heated argument. Heated arguments were not uncommon for them, so much that no one had any clue why she was even invited to the family dinners. She didn't even consider herself part of that family, but Ra's was convinced that it was such a special moment, no one could miss it. His little girl has her first boyfriend! Inevitably, he lived to regret this decision.

"You're a dirty excuse for a father, Ra's! You left me to fend for myself when I needed you most!" Nyssa yelled, standing up from her chair. Her breath was heavy with rage. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" She quickly picked up her fork, throwing it as hard as she could in Ra's' face.

"No, you should be ashamed of yourself! You're the one that betrayed me, before I had done a thing to you!" Ra's screamed back, throwing the fork aside. Fortunately for Ra's, the fork hadn't done any damage. He quickly pulled himself out of his seat to balance the dominance in their positions. "Everything that happened was your own fault, so stop pushing the blame on to me just because I blatantly decided you weren't worth saving from torture!" Unaware of how bad that sounded, he picked up the fork again and threw it back at her.

They continued throwing things at each other, screaming endlessly. The danger of the things thrown escalated as they went. At first it was simply things like forks and spoons, things that wouldn't do too much damage. But it started getting worse, and worse…..

Outside, at least Bruce was getting some kind of a warning. Talia stopped him just before he opened the door, turning him to face her. She stared at him, a glint of dead seriousness in her eyes.

"Beloved, you are not ready to meet my family. You never will be. They're a lot to deal with." She warned. Talia's hands gripped his shoulders even harder than a villain does when threatening a hero. "Every single one of my family members is weird. Very, very weird. A bit absurd, even. Albeit a nice guy, you're also only a simple billionaire, so it's definitely going to get on your nerves. They even get on my nerves, they-"

Bruce gently tugged her arms off of her, "Talia, I can handle it. I'm not a judgemental guy, I swear. It's fine if they're a little weird." His face rested in a blank, -but more importantly, not a horrified or angry- expression. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably waiting for us." He pointed towards the door, beginning to open it. Talia, still frazzled, immediately swung her arms over to stop him from opening it.

"Please, Beloved, you don't understand! It's not a difference in culture, tastes, or even opinions! I swear on my life… they're crazy." She stared into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and her hands were shaky as she held him back. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but just… promise you won't blame me for them?" Talia looked down desperately. Her words slowed for a moment.

"Of course," Bruce nodded, but before she could even communicate her gratitude, he abruptly swung the door open. "I've told you a million times, though, I'm sure I won't even be blaming them! You're worr-" The second he took his eyes off of Talia, and on to the room in front of them, his mouth dropped. Every word he said about it being fine was regretted almost immediately. It was so very, very, not fine.

Bruce had looked just quick enough to see Nyssa cross a final line with the throwing… a full, sharp, assassin knife. It shot directly into, and right through, Ra's' guts. Blood dripped down his stomach area and onto his shirt and cape. Ra's looked down at the injury for a moment, before quickly realizing that Talia and her boyfriend had officially arrived.

"Look what you've done now, Nyssa!" Ra's scolded, pointing to Bruce angrily. "Our guest has arrived, and you've done this right in front of him! Look at him, so startled at your audacity to stab me that he can't seem to speak…. Congratulations, you've embarrassed the whole family!" Bruce couldn't seem to listen to Ra's, with his eyes stuck on his stomach. Blood kept spilling out of it, yet Ra's hardly seemed to mind.

"...Are you okay?" Bruce took a slow, hesitant step towards the dinner table. His eyes were as wide as he thought they could go. "Shouldn't someone call an ambulance? You're bleeding out!" With the pure shock of it all starting to fade, he whipped out his phone and started navigating to the dialer.

Now dripping even more blood on the ground, Ra's pranced over to the front door to greet Bruce. "No, no, no! Don't mind my other daughter's ill manors. She's never well-behaved anymore, I'm afraid. But you're the guest, you shouldn't worry about this. Just sit down and relax." He led Bruce over to his seat, nudging him to sit down onto it. Ra's turned his stomach away from the chair to be sure he didn't get any little drops of blood on it. As he made his way back to his own seat, he gestured towards his stab wound. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to get changed and cleaned up. I'm afraid this stab wound has created quite a mess."

Still recovering from the shock of the stabbing, Bruce attempted to reason with him, "But don't you need to get medica-" Before he could even finish his sentence, though, Ra's was already out of the room and down the hallway. As hard as Ra's had tried to keep the floor from too much damage, there were still drips of blood every few feet. Bruce considered following them to make sure he was okay, but quickly realized that with all the servants here, at least one person would help.

Talia sat down next to him, surprisingly unstartled by her own father's stabbing, "Try not to worry too much about it, Beloved. This happens a lot -sometimes even ending in the opposite- and as you can see, it has never resulted in his -or even Nyssa's- death. Oh, and don't worry for your own life, the stabbing is very personal. I doubt Nyssa thinks you have enough of a connection with him to be worth hurting." She explained matter-of-factly. Her hand gently reached over to pat his hand, in an attempt to sooth him.

"Okay… I just, I don't want you to lose him. I don't want you to feel the same pain of losing your parents as I did…" His voice quivered at the thought of his own parent's tragic murder. Talia nodded, understanding his pain, but in no way attempting to agree with him.

"As I've said before, don't worry. I'm afraid my mother already died when I was a child, and her death frightened me, but him? No, no, no, he's quite the survivor. He's survived so many ridiculous situations, in fact, I believe he's practically immortal!" She exclaimed the strong statement, seeming a bit excited, but not quite cheerful. Seeing the statement as a casual joke, Bruce laughed nervously. Talia did not laugh with him, though. To his discomfort, she stared at him, just as dead-serious as she was with her original warning.

The sound of her father's pattering footsteps knocked them both out of their odd conversation. Ra's entered the room, his blood now nowhere in sight. Despite how formal the arrangement was supposed to be, he was shirtless. A new shirt, looking very similar to the one he was wearing when Bruce arrived, was tucked under his arm.

As Ra's started pulling the shirt on, Bruce noticed something. The place where the stab wound had been just a moment ago was perfectly visible, with no clothes covering it, and yet it just… wasn't there anymore. Certainly no blood, but not even any bandages, or any kind of scar! The only thing in the victim's gut area was skin. Pure, undamaged, skin. Talia's family was starting to seriously freak Bruce out.

Once Ra's had gotten his upper-half dressed, he promptly began making his more formal greeting to Bruce, "I'm afraid, with all that chaos, I never got the chance to introduce myself! I'm Ra's Al Ghul, Talia's father. You can call me Ra's…. At least as long as I haven't found you unworthy of casual nicknames." He narrowed his eyes, scaring away any joy in Bruce for the moment. "...And you are…? I'm afraid I don't think Talia's mentioned your name."

"I'm Bruce… um, Bruce Wayne." Bruce stuttered, trying to shake away the strong sense of uncomfort Ra's was starting to give him. Ra's smiled politely, and shook his hand.

"Welcome to our home, Bruce… Or Mr. Wayne, whatever you prefer to be called." He gestured to the grand mansion they were having dinner in. Having had enough of leaning over to be eye-to-eye with Bruce, he slumped back down onto his chair. His grand, collared, cape got thrown back in the process.

"..Bruce is fine," Bruce answered, still a bit nervous. Ra's nodded at him. Surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, his eyes seemed to stare into Bruce's soul. Bruce hated to judge someone for their clothing style, but the way Ra's dressed was certainly off for a meet-the-family type dinner. In fact, with the gold button on his cloak looking eerily like a demon's face, he was practically dressed like a supervillain.

Everyone began eating the food in peace. Nyssa did not try to stab anyone during that time, and neither did Ra's. It was pure silence at the dinner table, with everyone focusing purely on their plates instead of making conversation. Eventually, Ra's finally brought his head up from it and started speaking to Bruce.

"So… You want to marry my daughter?" Ra's asked, looking at Bruce sternly. His eyes carefully moved up and down, evaluating every single part of Bruce to see how worthy it was. He squinted at Bruce's jacket, his shoes, his expression… everything. As much as Bruce tried to seem calm and collected for Ra's, both the sudden assumption of marriage and the intense staring were only making him feel subconscious.

Fortunately, Talia immediately cleared it up, "We haven't even spoken about marriage yet, Father! Please, you're going to overwhelm him. Didn't I already tell you not to do this?" She pleaded. Talia gulped, just as she had been doing consecutively for this entire dinner. Watching her father act this way always felt a bit off, but having her boyfriend there just made it so much worse. She could easily feel what Bruce was feeling, -or at least what she thought he was- and she knew it was far from positive. Talia looked back down at her plate, hiding her face as it turned bright red. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this embarrassed in her entire life.

"I apologize, but you do realize, Talia, that if you ever want your relationship to go anywhere you must marry him at some point. How long have you two been dating, again?" Ra's looked back at Bruce, waiting for him to finally speak for himself.

Bruce took a deep breath, "Somewhere around 6 months? Or possibly 7, it's hard to get it exact." Ra's raised an eyebrow at the number.

"You two… have not even been thinking about marriage yet? Let me tell you, every single one of my marriages has always started with a month -at most- of prior dating, and I have had at least one perfectly good marriage. You all remember Sora, may she rest in peace, and we had the happiest of marriages. Yet, we married out of convenience! We hardly knew each other! Sometimes, you young ones must just let-" Ra's rambled, only to be cut off by Talia sighing. The gush of air was so loud and obviously exasperated that it completely cut off his story. After a second or two of silence, he continued despite it, "As I was saying, sometimes you young ones need to understand that dating isn't going to secure a marriage. A good attitude will! Both Sora and I had a good attitude, and she managed to be the light of my life. But of course, that only lasted so-"

This time, Talia simply used her words to stop him, "-So long because she got strangled to death in front of your eyes. We all know, Father, and frankly I don't think Bruce needs to know your life story. Why can't we just talk about something a bit more.. Conventional? We already talk about murder and death so much, can't we just lighten up a bit?" She begged, biting her lip uncomfortably. Her eyes looked at Ra's softly, almost as if she was attempting to do puppy eyes.

"Fine, fine, I really should get to the point, anyhow. We must tell if he is worthy enough to even date you! Only the finest in the lands are worthy of you, my darling, and so far I doubt he's up to that standard." Ra's scoffed, and Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes in return. Talia looked down again, rubbing her temples. She was just about ready to fall asleep on her father's nonsense. "Hmmm…." Not paying any attention to his daughter's misery, he stared into Bruce's eyes for what must have been the fifth time.

"He's…. Very….. Wealthy…." Talia stated. Each word was separated by a ton of sighs, groans, and deep breaths of frustration. Even as she spoke to her father, she kept her eyes locked down on her plate, in a painful stare. Ra's rested his chin on his hand as he considered her words. He looked side to side, while tilting his head every which way in correspondence.

"Well… I suppose a bit of extra money surely isn't hurting his worthiness." Ra's titled his head one last time, glancing up at Bruce from a different angle. Slowly, he adjusted his head back to normal. His arms were lightly touching down on the table, propping up his hands to wrap their fingers in between the other one. Ra's leaned forward, with his face now less than a foot in front of his hands. "But… you can already get as much of that as you'd ever possibly need from me. Worthiness, you see, is about much more than that. It's about the intelligence. The skill. The strength. The willpower…. The grace." His index fingers, now pointing up from the rest of his hands, tapped against each other. Each tap was methodical, rhythmic… like the ticking of a clock, clacking each second away.

Bruce felt a cold, thick, drop of sweat roll down his forehead, "I… I once took an IQ test. Mine is… higher than normal. Quite a bit higher, I believe." He picked up his napkin and quickly wiped the sweat off, attempting to push a smile onto his face. Or, just some sign of confidence, at the very least. Unfortunately, he was just a billionaire -and not a very emotionally-mature billionaire at that- so it wasn't exactly helping his case.

"Good. That's very good…." Ra's nodded approvingly. His index fingers tapped together again each time his head bopped up and down. Finally looking up from her plate, Talia started to smile, a glint of hope in her eyes. "But if you really have such an impressive intelligence quotient, you better start acting like it. Hit it where it really counts, not just some meaningless quiz. If you want to receive my daughter's hand in marriage, you will prove yourself worthy of such a thing in real life." His head's nodding quickly came to a stop.

Talia sighed again, but didn't even try to bother stopping it. Her mind was much more focused on the worse tests she reckoned would come after… the ones her beloved, as wonderful and skilled as he was, was still bound to fail. She glanced up at Bruce, noticing how wet his forehead looked. Her warnings had not done a thing, as even now, he was acting as if this was a big problem in comparison to the other thing her father most valued.

As she silently brooded, Ra's began to start his opportunity for Bruce to prove his intelligence, "Bring. It. In!" His voice boomed through the room as he looked at his assassins servants expectantly. To his dismay, they all simply stared at him, waiting for some more clarification. Their eyes blinked unknowingly. Ra's cringed at his servant's lack of understanding. "I said, bring. It. In!" Yet again, he got nothing brought in at all. A long, exasperated sigh, -almost as heavy as Talia's had been all night- escaped his mouth.

One of the servants, still unsure what to do but eager to help, went over and stood by his side. The servant bowed, but didn't dare ask for clarification. Not wanting to anger the master, the servant made sure to be patient and let Ra's have time to explain himself.

Ra's turned directly towards the closest servant, looking him in the eyes desperately, "You know, it. The thing. The one you should be bringing in right now. Whipping up out of nowhere." The servant nodded, but continued to wait for even more of an explanation. Ra's waved his hand in front of the person, unsure if they were even listening. "Come on! Get to it! Bring. IT. IN….. Ah, forget it! I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to ruin the suspense and the drama like this, but the chess board! The one I always pull out dramatically when attempting to test whether I should respect someone! The grand assessment!"

"Ohhhhh…." The servant slowly nodded. They spun on their heels, beginning to make their way off to get the chess board. Every breath Ra's took was long and agitated, gushing out like the wind as he watched the servant disappear into the next room.

He turned back towards Bruce, "I apologize for that mishap. It seems I really should just keep my chess board nearby in these kinds of situations, but I promise you, my assassins did say they'd have it handy." He scoffed at their incompetence. Bruce, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on another thing. He stared at Ra's, his eyebrows furrowing.

If this family wasn't already freaking him out, they certainly were now, "A… Assassi-?!"

But before he even got to finish expressing his frantic confusion, Ra's quickly interrupted him. These 'assassins' of his were back, now with the chessboard that he desired so badly. Ra's rapidly swiped the chessboard out of their hands and slapped it down in front of the two of them.

"Finally, we can begin!" He exclaimed, a tint of annoyance still in his voice. He turned back towards his assassins for a moment, gritting his teeth. "We'll talk about this whole 'ruining my drama' thing later. All of you." Ra's pointed at his own two eyes with two of his fingers, and then pointed the fingers back down on the League of Assassins members.

"And I think we need to talk about this whole assassi-!?" Still more focused on the other matter at hand, he persisted in attempting to get some kind of explanation. But yet again, Ra's was simply not listening.

"You may go first. It's only fair that the guest gets privileges. Besides, I think you'll need every advantage you can get when playing with someone who's been playing this game for centuries." Ra's pointed to Bruce's end of the board, waiting. Bruce's lips quivered as he stared at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ra's folded his hands together calmly. "Go on,"

Bruce chuckled nervously, "You're exaggerating… right?" His finger slowly inched towards the board as he thought about his first move. It was a strategy game, and Bruce was good at such games, but the claims Ra's was stating were more than intimidating. He bit his tongue, thinking back to all the games he'd won against Alfred.

"Exaggerating? Oh, hardly." Ra's shrugged, "You see, young man, this game has been going on far beyond even an old man like me's lifetime. I've been playing it for a long time, and I haven't gotten bored. But I have, as a matter of fact, learned many, many, strategies. I'd find it incredible for this to even last more than 30 minutes before you lose." Bruce leaned towards the board in concentration, attempting to ignore the chills running down his spine.

After what felt like forever of them playing chess, Talia finally saw an ending as she looked at the chess board. All of Bruce's pieces were blocked, in some way or another. She sighed in relief. Not only was this game not going to last forever, but her boyfriend wasn't even going to lose.

"It seems we've ended with a stalemate…" Ra's grinned at the outcome. He pulled out a clipboard from under the table, scribbling down the points this gave Bruce. Quickly tucking the clipboard back under the table, a look of awe sparkled in his eyes. "This is… incredible. Quite entertaining, actually! I haven't had a good opponent like this in years! Decades, even… if not centuries!" Bruce smirked, a sense of confidence raining over him. Talia rolled her eyes. She had certainly stalemated with Ra's at least once.

"Good, but now, can we please focus back on the fact that you called these… people around us... assassins?!" Bruce shook off the pride as he finally remembered the eerie mention. Talia's face flopped back down to face her plate. Her breaths were thin and short as she held back the urge to stand up and run straight out of this embarrassment.

"I did, didn't I...? Is that a problem? Did I offend you with that term?" Her father's voice rose. Despite the innocent questions, he fought back the urge to roll his eyes or scoff yet again in annoyance. "Would you prefer them to be called ninjas, murderers, or simply 'the people around us'? …..You're the guest."

"Murdere-?!" Bruce leaned back, unsure how to even say such a terrifying word. His mouth dropped open as his eyes anxiously darted back and forth. "These people are really… actual….." Talia reached over to Bruce, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alright, Beloved?" Talia asked. Her hand was warm, or possibly even a bit fever-ish to the touch. As was her cheeks, so very red with nerves. Bruce stared at her face, observing the not only embarrassed, but almost shameful expression smeared across it. A thought suddenly occurred to him… a quite unnerving, but eerily plausible one.

Bruce sighed, "...yes," He muttered through gritted teeth. Talia's shoulders slouched down, feeling her tense muscles relax at the reassurance. Bruce turned back towards Ra's, pouting his lip in a disapproving frown. "But… I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's get on with it, Ra's." Talia's muscles tensed right back up.

"Very well then, young man," Ra's aggressively shoved the chess board to the side. He pushed himself up from his seat, pulling out a sword that he had apparently been hiding in his pockets. "The next test is all about your ability to fight. Not only do I expect you to protect my daughter if the need comes up, but you also must be capable of winning wars if you want to win my daughter's love."

Talia pulled herself up from her seat, as well, "He already has my love, though, Father! No offense, but your tests and evaluations are all for yourself, and yourself only. We've already dated for long enough that it's ridiculous to act as if we aren't already in a romantic relationship." She crossed her arms, starting to get seriously fed up with her father's absurd behavior.

"Yes, yes, of course. But if you want me to treat you as my son-in-law, much less, my equal, you need to complete this test. It's about the respect! You've already shown competence in a battle of wits, now you must show you are just as skilled in physical battles for me to respect you." Ra's pointed his sword towards Bruce, making a stabbing motion towards the air. Bruce flinched as the sharp blade reached towards his chest. "Go on, get your blade out. This may not be a duel to the death -since Talia did go out of her way to make me promise I wouldn't stab you- but it's still a battle that you need to be prepared for."

"My… blade?" Bruce raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Ra's. "I was just trying to go to a formal dinner, to meet my girlfriend's family. Why. Would. I. Have. a. Sword. With. Me?!" After having to listen to Ra's constantly scoff throughout the dinner, he finally managed to gather the courage to scoff back.

"You must always be prepared, young man. Always. You are obviously immature. You know strategies, but you lack the true wisdom to use them properly. But, I suppose that is only to be expected with your young age, so…. I will still give you a chance." Ra's slid his sword back into his pocket. His lips rested in a strict frown, but began to curve up ever so slightly for a moment. "Besides, you already stale-mated me. I love a good stalemate! I can't believe I found someone who could achieve such an outcome! You're wonderful, Bruce. Just wonderful… Assassins, get him a sword!"

Bruce could only stare as a woman, dressed in all black attire, handed him her sword. He opened his mouth to reject it, but only a small, frantic, l uttering sound sputtered out. Everyone, including Talia, Nyssa, the assassins, and a man who's name hadn't been mentioned yet, stepped back, leaving Bruce and Ra's alone. Bruce slowly wrapped his hands around the handle of his weapon, still adjusting to the odd feeling of holding such a sharp object in his hand. By the time he realized what was happening around him, it was much too late to eat his last bite of food.

In fact, it was too late to even stretch before the battle. Ra's, who was seemingly having enough of Bruce's shock, was already lunging over. His sword slashed at Bruce's. With Bruce's fingers barely even holding on to it, Bruce's sword immediately got flung to the ground upon feeling any kind of impact.

Clang! The metal blade chimed as it hit the hard floor. The sound instantaneously knocked Ra's out of his intense battle-focus. His teeth were not gritted anymore, and his eyes widened from their stern glaring. He looked down at the stray weapon, then back up to Bruce. Now realizing what had happened, Bruce's face turned red. A tiny spray of sweat appeared on his forehead as he looked down with embarrassment.

"With all due respect, I have never had a weaker or less skillful opponent." Ra's blinked at the pathetic sight, shaking his head. He bent down to the ground and picked up the sword. The woman who it belonged to eagerly reached out to take it from him. Ra's turned back towards Bruce, who gulped as he saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I suppose I should've expected this kind of thing from such an average billionaire, although that chess game had sure gotten me hopeful. I mean god, was that a good game!" Ra's mumbled, holding back a smile.

Bruce sighed, "Let me guess, you want me to never date or even speak to your daughter again." He looked back at Talia, his shoulders slumping at the thought of leaving someone so lovely. But almost just as quickly, his shoulders pulled back up again. "Because if I may just say, this is completely unwarranted! You could've at least given me a warning about this nonsense…"

"You.. have a point." Ra's nodded, "Which is why I haven't completely ruled you out. That chess game still proves your utter excellency in nature, so perhaps it is rather cruel to blame you for this one time. But-"

Out of pure instinct, Bruce punched Ra's in the gut and kicked him to the floor. Ra's quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off, hardly bothered physically. But mentally, he was shocked. Talia ran to her father's side to make sure he was alright.

"Why would you do that, Beloved?" She yelled at Bruce. With Ra's obviously unarmed, she took a step towards her boyfriend. "You already weren't doing very well on his evaluations, so how do you think attacking him is going to help you?"

"I've proved I can defeat him." Bruce narrowed his eyes, still confident in his reckless behavior. Talia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He was doubting my ability to fight, but I've proved that I'm perfectly capable of throwing a punch or two. Since he's so obsessed with my fighting, it should help me be 'worthy' or whatnot." He crossed his arms.

Ra's rested his forehead against his hand, facepalming, "Yes, you got me on the ground for a bit, but at what cost? Ambushing may be a great strategy, and I already admitted you knew many strategies, but what kind of true warrior would use it on his own friend!?" He snapped. His large boots rattled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "A little agitation and frustration towards me does not take away the fact that you never declared us at war!" He began to stomp back to his seat at the dinner table.

"For goodness sakes, you're really going to lecture me about my morals when you've got a freaking assassin cult surrounding us!?" Bruce yelled back in return, "In my defense, when I see assassins, it really seems like anything I do would be in self-defense… Even if you weren't currently attacking me…" He argued. Every sense of nervousness had spiraled into anger.

"Exactly, we never attacked you except for a formal, well-mannered, spa-"

"Shut up! Can't you both just agree to disagree?!" Now shaking from frustration, Talia finally let her voice really rise and scream at them both. She tugged Bruce back to the table, and motioned for them both to sit down. "Apparently you're both a bit crazy, but two different kinds of crazy that apparently don't mix. I just- I just want this dinner to not be the worst experience of all of our lives…." As she settled back down into her own chair, her voice began to lower again.

Bruce and Ra's both begrudgingly nodded. Everyone's muscles began to relax, and their breaths were much slower and calmer. The ticks of an old clock clacked in the background as everyone went back to eating calmly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a soft conversation began again.

"I don't think you two ever introduced yourselves." Bruce pointed to another man and woman who were seated at the table with them. They had been simply watching and speculating as him and Ra's did their shenanigans. "You're Nyssa, right?" He pointed to the woman who had stabbed Ra's not long ago.

"Yes, and it's been quite amusing to watch him be kinder to you than he is to me." Nyssa sent him a cold glare across the table. He shuttered. "I'm Talia's older sister… or technically half sister, but you get the point."

Ra's quickly took up the introductions once she was finished, "Yes, yes, she's my other daughter. Much older than Talia, but nowhere near as wonderful." He smiled at Talia, who blushed uncomfortably. Being the favorite was better than being the least favorite, but it could certainly be embarrassing, too. Ra's turned towards Dusan, "He's… my son? I think. I'm sorry, it's been a long time since his birth, so I sometimes forget it even happened! His name is… hmm… I'm fairly sure it starts with a C…"

"It's Dusan, Father. It doesn't even start with a C…" The man corrected. He sighed at his father's forgetfulness. Ra's titled his head at Dusan, displeased at the answer. His expression was questionable, with an eyebrow raised, like he was about to question Dusan on his own name. Dusan sighed even deeper.

"I… supposed that's his name, then…" Ra's gave in, his tone still indicating his lack of certainty on the matter. He looked Dusan in the eyes, making direct eye contact, "But don't call me Father! You're hardly my son if I can't even remember my name." Dusan returned the eye contact with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dusan, I still consider you my big brother." Talia stated, smiling towards him shyly. Dusan shook off the eye contact with Ra's to send a bitter glare back to his younger sister.

"Oh really? Like I care, Favorite! One day, he's going to realize that I'm the better child and you're going to be forsaken considering how much trouble you've caused him!" Dusan scowled at Talia. She groaned, but stayed quiet in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing argument.

"Don't you dare speak to your superior that way!" Despite her silence, Ra's was far from quiet. He immediately looked back towards Bruce as he finished speaking. His speech was completely polite to Bruce now, as if the spontaneous attack had never even happened. "I apologize for his foul behavior, Bruce. It seems that sometimes immature children will act out if you forget to treat them kindly."

"Um… okay." Bruce squinted at Ra's, concerned but still confused. He was still certain that despite the uncalled-for attack, Ra's was still indefinitely the crazier one. But of course, in an effort to not upset Talia, Bruce kept this thought to himself. "I… suppose you must have another test for me, right?"

"Of course! Even though your manners aren't the very best, I will admit you did get me on the ground for a bit there, so… I still haven't counted you out. With a little teaching, you could be a very worthy man." Ra's complimented, "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, to get a grip of your personality just a bit better." He explained, pushing his food to the side.

"Go ahead," Bruce said. Despite his encouraging words, though, he was frowning in utter disinterest. He slowly pushed his food to the side to clear a path between them. Ra's pointed to Bruce before he asked the first question.

"How do you feel about the environment? More specifically, the planet. Innocent animals made endangered by man-made devices and pollution!" Ra's began. He eagerly stretched his hand over to grab a nearby globe, pulling it into his clutches. His thick, strong, fingers spun it nonchalantly.

Bruce thought about the question for a moment, "I feel bad for the animals. Since I have so much money, I've donated tons to helping them, and I feel the environment is a very important cause. I will admit I haven't done a ton of work with it myself, though…" He answered the question as truthfully as possible, figuring it probably wasn't too important.

"That's good… although I would appreciate a bit more enthusiasm for such an important cause." Ra's nodded, quickly moving on to the next question. "How about… murder? Assuming there's a good cause for it, of course."

Bruce froze, "Do I… do I have to answer truthfully?" He whispered into Talia's ear. She nodded, pointing towards her father. With a couple of her fingers pressed up to her neck, she made a cut-throat gesture. Bruce shuttered and shook at such a threatening signal, even if it was more of a simple warning. "I think it's horrible. One of the worst crimes imaginable. I would never commit it, even if it cost me my life. I don't think there's any excuse for taking another human being's life, no matter what that human being has done."

Ra's frowned at the blunt response, "But what if it saved other lives? The animals, which we've hurt so much with pollution's lives, perhaps?" He argued, continuing to spin his globe fidgetly. His eyes peered down at the bright blue paint, thinking of the dolphins, fish, seals, and whales that all inhabited that precious space. The space humans were constantly taking over, with their plastic, machinery, and oil spills. To Ra's, such horrid actions seemed surely worthy of the death penalty.

"I said no," Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No one deserves to die, period. I'm not going to be persuaded on this." He glared at Ra's, starting to get more and more confident by the minute. Ra's glowered right back at him.

Talia sighed, "You know, Beloved… You didn't have to be this blunt about it." She leaned her head on chin on her hand wearily. Her eyes began to close softly, having no energy left after all the messes that had gone on. "I just didn't want you making up something too-good-to-be-true…."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Well maybe I want to be blunt-"

"Well, I'd like to remind you that my father isn't exactly the person you want to upset!" She gestured back towards all the highly-trained assassins surrounding them. Every single one had belts with an arsenal of weapons tucked inside, and half of them had enough muscles to take down most people without the help of the weapons. "Only a fool would mess with such a man. After months of dating you, I hope I am not misled when I say you're not that much of an idiot."

Bruce gulped, immediately realizing his mistake, "I…. I'm sorry, Mr. Al Ghul." He looked back at Ra's nervously. He quickly tightened his tie and fixed his posture, hoping even that small of a change could make a difference. . . Whether that difference was a matter of life or death, or simply whether Talia and him were allowed to keep dating.

"You know... '' Ra's considered his options, peering at Bruce judgmentally. "That kind of rebelness does show courage, if you squint. I'll be fair and say it's bound to come in handy at some point in your life… so, I have decided that you two may keep dating. From what I've heard, you make my daughter happy, so I suppose I'd feel bad being too judgemental." He smiled at Talia. Getting up from his seat, he wandered around the table to kiss her forehead lovingly.

Despite the loving gesture, though, Talia was much more focused on the wonderful news this meant for her and Bruce. The minute her father was done giving her the kiss, she ran over to Bruce and hugged him. Bruce wrapped his hands around her as well, squeezing her against him.

"Thank you, Father," Talia turned back towards Ra's for a split second before leaning back into Bruce's hug. She rested her cheek against him affectionately. "You're alive. I can't believe you're still alive. Everyone's still alive…." She smiled, tilting her to the left to peck him on the cheek.

"Yes.. although I will admit it's a bit sad that we even questioned that.. Not that we didn't have the right to." Bruce glared at Nyssa and Ra's bitterly. Fortunately, they were both looking the opposite way. He really had to stop doing so much of this rebellious, impolite, glaring at those he was attempting to make fond of him. "But more importantly, we get to stay together! I knew I had made the right move by attacking your father." He smirked.

"Sure you did," Talia's smile twisted into a smirk along with his, "There's a reason he didn't kill you, though, Beloved. You were wonderful… and the stalemate? That's more than impressive. It took me my entire childhood of playing chess with him to start being able to get those! You're so intelligent, and brave, and… well, I'm just very glad I fell in love with someone as wonderful as you. Even if you did punch my Father." Her eyes softened for a moment, now taken over by a bittersweet gaze.

"...Thank you," Bruce smiled softly back to her, but it was quickly taken over by a more solemn, concerned, expression. "Can we talk outside for a moment, Talia? After all this, I think there's a lot we need to go over… privately." He nudged her out of the comfy hug.

Talia's smile immediately dropped, "Of… course," She stuttered, now remembering that Bruce had just learned tons of secrets in this one evening. Her head turned slightly back towards Ra's, "Please excuse us for a moment." Taking Bruce's hand, Talia led him outside to a nearby courtyard.

Once they got there, Bruce let out a long, painfully loud, groan. He flopped down onto one of the benches drowsily. Talia sat down with him, letting out a smaller groan herself. They sat there, with all masks and forced smiles dropped for an awkward minute or two. Their eyes were closed for the most of it, only flickering open every few seconds.

"I assume you want to break up with me, anyway." Talia finally spoke, her words slow and quiet above the peeps of nearby crickets. She stared straight down at the ground, neglecting to blink or let the aching tears stream out of her eyes. Bruce slowly looked up at her. Both their heads were still dropping forwards for the most part, but he peered at her from the corner of his eye. Another gap of silence stood between them before he finally opened his mouth to answer her question.

"...No, not necessarily." Bruce finally answered. He looked back down at his lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Her chin twitched upwards at the good news. But as he spoke again, Talia's chin lowered. "But… out of curiosity, if I did, would your father kill me?"

"Well… yes, probably." Her skirt gently flew up, caught in the airy breeze. She breathed in and out, as slow and soft as the wind. Bruce bit his lip, pouting ever so slightly. He swallowed in consideration. "But I would try my best to stop it from happening, Beloved. As much as it would ache me, I would never want you to die, of course. …..You could fake your own death." She suggested, finally lifting her chin enough to really look at him.

Bruce flinched, but kept his head down, "I'd… rather not do that." A muffled groan escaped his lips. Talia's lips quivered at the uncomfortable sound. Her head dropped again, spinning towards the opposite direction. As she turned away, Bruce continued thinking over his options. Everything felt wrong, but somehow right in an odd way. They sat in silence for another couple minutes as he fell deep into his thoughts.

"You promised," Talia suddenly blurted out. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. She continued to look away from him, hiding the weak, desperate look on her face. "You promised you wouldn't blame me for them….. You promised." Her voice was careful as she attempted to keep her tone as calm as possible.

Bruce nodded, "You're right," He stated. For a second, but only for a second, did his voice crack into a much shakier tone. It pained him to look at her, to hear her faltering voice, and most of all, to know that she hadn't truly done a thing. At least, as far as he knew. "Your father's a criminal. The leader of a league dedicated to murder. So, with that knowledge in mind…. How many people have you murdered?"

Talia gulped, "You- You don't want to know." She shook her head shamefully. Bruce winced at the cold, gut-wrenching answer. "You and I both know you don't truly want to hear the answer to that question." She repeated. Talia pressed her eyes closed, letting tears seep out out and on to her trembling cheeks. Bruce was going to go. She was sure of it.

"Why…? Why would you-" Bruce stuttered. He finally fully lifted his head to face the apparent-murderer. Talia turned even farther away from him in response.

"Can't you see? My father is an ecoterrorist, Beloved. A mass-murderer. A genocidal maniac. I spent my entire childhood in his care… Of course I've killed for him!" Her voice rose a bit. Talia's eyes peered back at Bruce to see his reaction, but she didn't move a muscle in her neck to truly look at him. "I swear on my life, I didn't enjoy it. But I couldn't let him down. I still can't let him down. He's still my father, and… I can't betray my own family, can I?" She wrapped her arms around herself. A sad look sparkled in her eyes, almost mirroring the stars above them.

Bruce felt a tinge of anger run up his spine, "But…. you want to, don't you?" Talia's neck shook as her head flopped even closer to her lap. He moved his hand a bit closer to her, considering whether he should place it on her shoulder or not.

"Maybe I do," Talia whispered, her words barely audible. It was if she was simply mouthing them to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke the tiny, quiet, little words. As she slowly opened them again, she gradually turned her head to finally face him. Their eyes met for a moment, "But maybe I don't. It's more complicated than that, Beloved ..." Her head still faced him, but her eyes broke out of the eye contact. They wandered in the opposite direction wistfully.

Bruce sucked in his lips, every muscle in his body cramping together. He resisted every urge in himself to touch her, hug her... or simply just reach a bit closer to hold hands. She was a murderer. He shouldn't have felt this way, he knew he shouldn't, but the urges were there. Bruce. Still. Loved. Her. It hurt to say the words inside his head, but not quite as much as it hurt to deny it. He kept his hand still, worried even a small vibration of movement could result in him fully wrapping his arms around Talia. But as he focused on stillness in his body, Bruce felt another hand reach over and squeeze his.

"All I know now, Beloved… is that I don't want to betray you." Talia looked straight at him now, adjusting her entire body to lean towards him. Bruce looked straight at her, as well. Her green eyes were glossy, with wet tears glistening in the moonlight. "We could still work out. My father actually seems to admire you, and I do, as well, but…. I'm not sure if you return such admiration…. After everything you've learned."

"You have a point," Bruce pushed himself off the bench. He began to tread forward, wandering around the courtyard. "I lose nothing from staying with you… except perhaps my lack of relations with murderers. It's not like I'm completely innocent myself. I may not have taken anyone's life, but I certainly started some fires against people who didn't completely deserve it. My poor math teacher…. Besides, I made a promise." He paced back and forth, gradually walking faster and faster|.

Talia sighed, "But that promise only included what my family did," She stood up with him. "They are my murders, not my-"

"Yes," He looked down for a moment, lost in thought yet again. His mouth rested in an aloof frown. Bruce's eyes narrowed. "But even then, it's more than clear you wouldn't be such a murderer if it weren't for where you were raised. Blaming you for such a thing could be considered breaking my promise either way." His hands spun up and down, gesturing as he explained his logic.

Talia's hand reached over to his, "Please… I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I may have tears coming out of my eyes, and I may look pathetic right now, but…you still must make the choice that suits your heart. I don't want your pity." Her eyebrows arched, a stern focus taking over. Bruce's hands stopped twirling. A stillness crept over, with her hand just barely resting on his arm peacefully.

"-And I will not give you any, Talia," Bruce cleared his throat. Finally giving in to the undying urges, he wrapped his arms around her. Talia felt him pull her into a soft embrace. "Even through mistakes, and even, well... crimes, there is one thing standing. One thing other than pity- and that is love. It may make me crazy for doing so, or even a criminal, but I will give you mine."

"What does that even mean, though?" Talia asked, looking downwards. Her eyelids flapped up and down as she quickly blinked. "I… suppose it doesn't even matter, does it? Not now, anyhow… If you will give me your love, then I will give you mine." She quickly peeked back up, now with a wide smile across her face.

"I think we both know what that means, then… and what it doesn't." Bruce sighed, carefully taking a step back from Talia. Their loving embrace loosened. Talia's smile began to drop, but still not fully hit a frown. "I'm sorry. I… may have gotten lost in the fairytales there. Or maybe I was right. I'm not even sure anymore, Talia…"

Talia took deep breaths as she thought everything he was saying over, "You… you said thought we both knew what it meant… and what it didn't, of course. But perhaps…" Her hand, hesitant and unsure, began to slowly nudge him back towards her. Despite his overall reluctance, he easily let her lead him in the movement. "Perhaps for now… we can just focus on what it does mean, Beloved." She whispered the endearing nickname, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

With their arms already wrapped tightly around each other, Talia slowly began to lean in for a kiss. Bruce closed his eyes, gently following her affectionate behavior. Both of their soft hugs towards the other one tightened even more as they leaned in close. The soft glow of the moon shimmered behind them as they finally kissed. Talia and Bruce held the other one happily. Happy. Even for just a moment, they were happy.

[baticorngirl]

Title: Scribbles of Love

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Unnamed Child, Bruce Wayne & Unnamed Child,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Minor Original Character(s),

Summary: Miraculously, Bruce and Talia have been married for quite a long time now. In fact, their first year anniversary is coming around the corner, and it's suddenly dawned on Bruce that he doesn't have anything to give her. He soon decides he wants to give her a love poem, but there's only one problem: Bruce sucks at writing poetry. As the anniversary comes closer and closer, will Bruce manage to write a half-decent love poem in time?

A/N: This fic is for @brutalia-week Day 1: “I made it for you”. It takes place in an alternate universe where Batman: Son of the Demon worked out. I think that’s all you need to know before you begin, so... enjoy!

(The fanfic is under the line below, but if you’d prefer to, you can also read it on Ao3(x) and FF.net (x)!)

__________________________________________________

Talia was training, as usual. Her feet were planted to the ground like a tree's deep roots, with her knees bent ever so slightly to get a good stance. The smile on her face was soft, but she made sure her strikes were anything but. Like Ra's has taught her so many years back, her moves were smooth and fast, a bit graceful… but powerful. The sword in her hand would've demolished anything in its path, as it zoomed around the room…. if she had been aiming for anything but an imaginary opponent, that is. Her hair flew into the air as she abruptly bent down (while still attempting to keep her feet as well-planted as possible) to swipe her "opponent's" feet. She pulled up and jumped, imagining that they were doing the same move back to her. Continuing to imagine each move, her arm twisted and turned to hit their sword back every time, getting faster and faster and faster and faster and…..

Knock, knock. Talia pulled herself up, mentally clearing herself from the perilous fight, at the sound of knuckles softly pounding on the door. "Come in," She called, slowly trotting over to the door. Just outside the door, Batman stood. His cowl was casually flung back to uncover his real face, and as he began to pull on his gloves and belt, it became clear he was about to get out of the vigilante gear. He sighed, neglecting to look at her as the pulling became more of just fidgeting and less of actually pulling them off.

"I… have to go." He began, his eyes still looking off into the distance. "It's just… a… small errand. I won't be long. Maybe an hour or two, but….. I can't keep watching the baby while I'm gone so I figured I should let you know." He immediately turned and began walking away as soon as he had conveyed the necessary information. Talia's eyebrow rose, noticing the odd behavior, but quickly shrugged it off. Her husband always acted secretive, so she doubted there was anything to worry about.

"Okay, Beloved. Farewell!" She quickly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek a moment before he left. Batman turned back towards her, his classic vacant expression turning into a smile for a moment. It only took less than a moment to go back to normal, though, as he quickly continued walking and went into a walk-in closet to get ready for his "errand". Once he was out of sight, Talia made her own way over to the baby's nursery in the opposite direction.

She swiftly picked the baby up, watching as the baby's eyes lit up in a giggle. The baby continued to smile and laugh even more as she kissed his small, round little nose. Talia rocked her child in her arms, ambling around the nursery. Soon, the high-pitched laughter had faded into the peaceful squeaks of a sleeping infant. The baby was slowly set back down into his crib. Talia patted his little head as gently as she could, before setting up the baby monitor and going to a nearby room to train a bit more.

Meanwhile, Bruce had just arrived at what he had told Talia was just an errand. He went into the front door, and was greeted by a friendly-looking person, sitting on a lounge chair just a few feet in. They smiled at him, and motioned for him to sit down at one of the many desks spaced around the room.

"Welcome. You're a bit early, so we'll just be getting started in a few minutes." They explained. He simply nodded in return. Luckily for him, they seemed to be unaware of his fame back in Gotham. Talia had still been doing some work under Ra's, and so they hadn't been in Gotham for quite a while due to where her father wanted her. Bruce had been enjoying the lack of fame and the dreaded paparazzi through their whole trip, and this was no exception.

Silence followed for a few moments. They both looked down their laps, unsure what to do or say. Awkwardness plagued them both, but eventually, the person in front of Bruce decided to start talking again to get rid of it.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Riley, what's your name?" They asked, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Bruce put his hand out as well, and they shook for a few seconds before he answered the question.

"My name is B-" He quickly got interrupted by a flood of people coming in. The clock had finally ticked that it was 10:00, meaning it was the exact time to start. Everyone sat down quietly. Riley jumped up from their chair, rushing up to the front.

"Welcome to this poetry class, everyone. I assume all of you are here to improve your knowledge of poetry to a level beyond what you were taught in school, or possibly even to build up to a career as a poet. My name is Riley, and I'm your instructor." They explained, and a wave of nodding ran through their audience. Bruce nodded, but stared for a moment in awe of the fact that he hardly remembered even just what he had been taught in school about poetry. He looked down at the desk in front of him, the idea finally occurring to him that maybe focusing all his later teenage years on training to become Batman instead of paying attention to High School was a mistake.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. Poetry hadn't ever been necessary until this situation. But here he was, lying to Talia that he was just "going out on an errand", because there was absolutely no way he could write her a love poem without extra help. It was an embarrassment, really, but poetry just wasn't one of his strong points. It required so much emotion, so much expression of it, and expressing his emotions just wasn't something Bruce naturally did.

"Of course, this is more of a beginner class, so even though some of you may become poets some day, we'll be starting with the basics for today's class." Riley continued the class introduction. Bruce sighed in relief. Perhaps he would actually be able to follow what the instructor was talking about, and be able to give Talia a half-decent poem when it was over. "First of all, most good poems have a lot of figurative languages. These are things that stretch the literal meanings of the words you use, and create an image or effect using them. Some examples are how saying 'Your eyes looked like stars' is a simile, a type of figurative language. There's also metaphors, which are essentially the same thing, but without using the word 'like'."

Bruce thought about this for a moment, and got out a piece of paper to attempt to start his poem with some figurative language. "What's Talia like?" He mumbled, remembering everything about her that he loved so much. She was such a good fighter, and yet kind of graceful, which he was sure he could relate to something, so he took note of that. Her eyes were kind of jewel-like, shiny and beautiful, and her dark brown hair was like chocolate, so he wrote that down, as well.

But most of all, what he loved about her was how much she tried for love. Even though everyone would say that her fighting abilities are her greatest power, her secret weapon, Bruce knew none of those meant anything. Not without the love she used those abilities for, at least. He wasn't quite sure how to say this poetically, though, so he decided to get back to it later.

Eventually, the class ended, and Bruce came back home. Then, next week, he went back to the class and continued to work on his poem. Every week this continued, until their anniversary came around. By then, his poem was nowhere near perfect, but he had tried. There was no way he could back out now, after spending so much time working on it.

Bruce stuffed the poem inside his pocket, and went to their room to get Talia. She sat on a stool, brushing her hair nonchalantly. She had already gotten changed into a beautiful dress, going down to her ankles with embroideries. Bruce stared for a moment, thunderstruck. An embarrassingly goofy smile was on his face, but he quickly shook it off and returned to his default, impassive expression.

"Are you ready, Talia?" Bruce asked, reaching his hand out to help her up. Talia got up herself, but took his hand anyway, nodding. Both bringing along a present, the couple held hands as they made their way to the car. They were planning on going to a fancy restaurant for their anniversary, and exchanging gifts after dinner.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we finally got together, Beloved." Talia said once they were in the car, smiling, "It's been so happy. We were so sad, and we kept having to reject each other, but then this happened, and now… I don't think anything will ever get in between us again." She clutched her necklace, thinking back to the time, almost a year ago, that he had given it to her. For once, she could think about that kind of time with pure joy and hope, instead of longing.

"Yes… I don't usually consider myself cheerful, but you're right. I honestly don't think we could be happier." Bruce looked down at his lap, lost in thought. "That baby is going to have everything. Our love, a family, a home, and of course, happiness. We've really done it." He mumbled.

Talia nodded, right as they pulled up to the restaurant. She scooched out of the car, pulling Bruce along with her. They went inside together, got seated, and ordered their food. As they waited, they decided it might be fun to give each other hints about the presents.

"I'm going to give you two gifts, technically." Bruce explained, feeling his pocket for the poem, plus the earrings he was going to give her along with it. "One's just…. A fairly basic anniversary gift. But the other thing, well, it's a bit more from the heart… I suppose. I don't know, I tried to make it special." He sighed.

Talia smiled, "That sounds wonderful, Beloved. I can't wait to see it." Bruce gulped at the thought that he may have gotten his hopes up for his half-baked writing, but she didn't seem to notice his nerves. "I just got you something basic, too, but it's the sort of thing that's customized to be quite special."

"That sounds wonderful, too." He replied, reaching across to put his hand on top of hers romantically. She wrapped her hand around his in reciprocation. They both leaned in to kiss, smiling.

"Here is your food," They both got knocked out of their romantic moment by the sound of their waiter's voice. They both pulled out of the kiss, and leaned back on to their own chairs. "Oh, was I interrupting something?" The waiter asked with a chuckle, before setting down both their dishes in front of the one who ordered it.

The waiter left, and both Talia and Bruce ate dinner. They talked and smiled as they ate, both attempting to get the other one to slip up and tell them what their present was, with little to no success. Soon, both Bruce and Talia were finished eating, and they quickly got out their presents.

Talia picked up a bag that Bruce had noticed she'd been carrying along throughout the trip, and reached inside. Out she pulled a little box, wrapped in bright, colorful, wrapping. She pushed it in front of Bruce, grinning.

"Go ahead, open it." She insisted. Bruce slowly began to peel the wrapping off, and opened the box that was inside the wrapping. Inside was a beautiful pendant, covered in small gems of all kinds of shapes and colors. The jewels sparkled, almost like magic, and a smile grew on Bruce's face.

"It's… beautiful." He commented, flipping it over in his hands cautiously. He stared, mesmerized at all the jewels. His fingers clutched it tightly. Talia's grin only grew. He was even more happy with it than she thought he'd be, and he hadn't even opened it yet.

"Open the pendant, it's even specialer inside." She nudged, slightly impatient. Listening to her words, Bruce gently flipped the pendant open. Inside, there was a picture of their sweet little baby. Talia reached over, touching a little bump on the back. He flipped it over, realizing it was a knob. Talia turned it, and the image changed to a picture of herself. "There's quite a few different pictures in it, and the knob changes it. I tried to get all of your closest loved ones, plus a picture of yourself in case you're ever in the mood to be vain." She laughed.

Bruce pulled it closer to himself to see it better, and began switching the knob between them all. "I… I love it." He leaned over to her, quickly pecking her on the cheek. "It's perfect." Her smile grew even more than it already had as he opened it. Bruce adjusted the knob to be on Talia again, and put it on.

"I'm really glad." Talia reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand. "Now, would you like to get out what you're giving me?" She beamed with excitement, almost as much as she had beamed when he opened his own. Bruce pulled the earrings out of his pocket, and nudged them in front of his wife.

"I suppose I thought you might like those, but I put a lot more effort into my other gift." Bruce spoke cautiously, too focused to let himself smile anymore. Talia took the earrings, which were actually quite beautiful and expensive, and exchanged the earrings she was wearing currently with them. As she does that, he pulls his poem out of his pocket. "I wrote you something. I know you were probably concerned about how I kept going out at the same time each week without telling you where I was going, but that was just because I had to take a writing class if I wanted to make this even slightly decent."

Talia frowned, "You keep a lot of secrets, but it's nice to know that at least one of them was out of love, and not fear or mistrust. Either way, thank you for the earrings. They are more than beautiful." She let go of the frown quickly after getting it, and gestured for Bruce to go on. "Now, I'm more than excited to hear what you've made. Go ahead."

"When you are here, I can only think about you, But even when you are far, I simply do it with longing, too;

I love you all the time, Day… or night, In the ocean, ground, or even sky, And this why:

Your eyes look like jades, And your smile like beauty in a solid form; You hair looks like silky chocolate, Your entire body is something I adore;

You are stronger than you seem, But so very graceful, as well; You fight stronger than a demon, With an angel's good intent, and morale;

Yes, you move like a swan, But much, much, more than that:

You love deeper than anyone could ever know, Just something that you have taught yourself, Your intentions are more than just moral, But an emotion, in itself;

So with that much personality, It is my honor to be able to love you back."

Bruce spoke the poem as clearly as he could, trying not to stutter or chicken out. It felt odd, showing this much emotion, but in a good way. Once he was finished, he looked up from his poem, smiling. Talia was rubbing her cheeks, wiping away the tears that had formed. Bruce leaned over to kiss the unoccupied hand, desperately attempting to make the moment even more romantic.

Before he had leaned back on to his own chair, Talia quickly pulled him into a kiss, "I love it, Beloved. Almost as much as I love you." She took the paper from Bruce's hand, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. "If you don't mind, I want to be able to remember this moment. Forever."

"Of course," Bruce said, trying to pretend he wasn't surprised that she had liked his poem so much. Perhaps she was simply humoring him to spare his feelings, but if she was, she was doing an incredibly good job at it.

They quickly paid for the meal. Bruce and Talia both beamed as they rode off into the night, hand in hand.

__________________________________________________

A/N: Okay, now that you're done, some disclaimers:

I am not necessarily saying Bruce's poem was actually bad. He views it as bad, and it's certainly not perfect, but... I'm not necessarily saying it's bad myself, if that makes sense, (although I definitely did purposely not spend too much time on it when I was writing this).

Also, I'm not sure where this fanfic takes place, lol. It's just not in Gotham, but the rest if up for interpretation.

Oh, and I'm aware this entire fanfic is quite boring. The plot isn't very interesting, I'm afraid, but... oh well.

[baticorngirl]

Title: "And They All Lived Happily Ever After" (Dedicated to@mac-attack5 so she'll cry while reading, details in 1st A/N)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Batman/DC Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence Relationship(s): Ra's al Ghul & Talia al Ghul, Talia al Ghul & Melisande, (Heavily Mentioned) Ra's al Ghul/Sora, Characters: Ra's al Ghul, Talia al Ghul, Melisande (Talia's mother),

Summary: When she was small, Talia al Ghul's favorite bedtime story used to be her father's own origin story. It had excitement, twists, revenge, and a moral that Ra's urged her to follow constantly, but that was not the reason she liked it. She liked it because of the beginning. The part where her father was kind, anti-murder, anti-death, and pro-humanity. Perhaps it was a guilty pleasure of hers, to imagine that time. Her father would be very upset to think of her enjoying these thoughts, she knew. Perhaps rightfully. Perhaps she needed to learn better with maturity, or needed to stop being so naive.

Or perhaps, those thoughts were the most beautiful thing she had.

Chapter 6 of 6

<Click here to read it on Ao3 instead>

<Click here to read Chapter 5>

<Click here to read Chapter 4>

<Click here to read Chapter 3>

<Click here to read Chapter 2>

<Click here to read Chapter 1>

Author's Note:

I just want to say, before you even begin to read, that the dialogue and whatnot for this entire fic realistically would probably not be in English, and I am aware of that (but I am also monolingual). There's a line in this chapter that talks about a "relatively commonly known language" but there are plenty of well-known languages other than English, obviously lol. I just wanted to clarify that, now please enjoy the final chapter!

-----------------------------------------------------------

Three years passed.

In that time, Talia, through a mix of excuses and avoidance, managed to kill only around five more people. As much as she hated to admit it, it was getting easier– slightly. Her most recent kill, she hadn't even had nightmares after, and had only cried for a minute, at most. In some ways, it was undoubtedly relieving to not deal with the overwhelming sorrow of her first kill, but in other ways, it was even more bothersome. Her mind was adapting, just as Ra's had promised. He'd been right about killing; Murder comes much more naturally with experience.

That meant, of course, that Talia's mind was twisting into the one of not just a murderer, but a multi-murderer. A serial killer, even.

Even at fourteen years old, it was a terrifying thought. She understood why a person might wish to kill, and she understood why her father did. But she didn't currently wish to, at least not on those spontaneous Ra's chose for her, so to think that she was starting to be alright with killing random people, some even more innocent than others, made her feel powerful. Not in a good way, though– Talia felt, in all of the word's disturbing glory, sadistic.

It wasn't a comforting feeling, to say the least. But, for now, blood did still bother her in similar ways to her words at four-years-old; "The person was alive, and then they're not, and that's gross and bad."

Ra's had noticed even the smaller changes, though, and it pleased him. Those grins were probably what bothered Talia most. Although in some ways they were a normal, proud father's light-hearted smile, in other ways, with the context, at least, his eyes were gleaming murderously. It was the smirk of a killer, and, parent or not, pleasing a killer had its drawbacks. Mostly, the quiet yet persistence wonders of what, exactly, it said about her. Killers pleased killers when it came to those kinds of smiles, not innocent children– unless they were in the process of being slaughtered, that was.

But, today was not a day to think about that. Talia was finally getting a day off to enjoy the area they were currently visiting. It was certainly a nice, eye-catching city, but regardless, they didn't visit often. That, mixed with the increasing rarity of a completely training-less day, only made it more exciting.

Talia had left early that morning to make the most of the day. So early, in fact, that the sun was only now starting to peek up and light up the previously dark sky. A gorgeous, shimmering sunrise to begin a gorgeous, shimmering day.

First, Talia had decided that, since her undeniably rich father gave a more than recent allowance despite her hardly ever having time to use, she'd go shopping.

Her feet pranced over the sidewalks happily as she looked around at all the passing buildings. They were tall, most being skyscrapers, and her eyes widened at seeing so many store signs inside. Many choices unfolded before her eyes, all seeming nice in their own ways. She walked a couple more blocks, only to run into several more stores, all of which looked just as appealing.

Eventually, Talia did choose, though. The first store she'd waltzed into was a smaller shop, looking tiny compared to all the nearby department stores. Although Talia had considered shopping for clothes or shoes, something very stereotypically average for a teen of her age, this shop had small little souvenirs instead that looked just as appealing.

Talia ended up getting a few trinkets, but then moved on to her next store quickly to save as much time as possible. There, she finally did get some clothes. Talia indeed had enough clothes already, most of which were made custom and of the finest materials around, not to mention absolutely gorgeous in fashion, but it wasn't really about that. It was much more for simply the experience of shopping for her own clothes normally, instead of giving a request or two to a specific tailor. It may have been ungrateful of her to prefer the less expensive way, in some eyes, but it felt much more interactive when everything was right there for her gaping eyes to see.

She picked out a few dresses, first of all, but then moved on to some other clothes, like normal pants. At first, there were a few decent looking pairs, but nothing better than what Talia already had, so she almost simply moved on from that section without anything. Yet, the more she looked, the more Talia discovered more and more modern types of attire, including jeans.

Ra's, being your average immortal old man, hadn't ever considered the idea of even putting those kinds of pants in the question for Talia, especially due to their original use –manual labor, which Ra's conservatively still viewed them as for– being something Talia didn't ever really do. Although, unsurprisingly, they were not her style in the slightest and would clash with the majority of her old-fashioned wardrobe, Talia grabbed a pair out of pure curiosity.

As she went through a few more sections, Talia moved on from clothing shopping.

At this point, she'd gotten tired, as well as hungry. Her stomach growled loudly, so Talia went off to have lunch. She almost always ate lunch with Ra's, on his huge, elegantly long table, experiencing the taste of nothing less than her family's personal specialized chefs' premium food for each meal. Talia, feeling experimental, decided she wanted lunch to be as far from that, despite being able to afford quite literally anything in the area.

When Talia had chosen a fast food restaurant, out of all places, the assassin alongside her (which Ra's had unfortunately made Talia bring along) certainly raised some eyebrows.

Talia, too, had raised some eyebrows when she actually tasted the food. It was much saltier, yet overall blander and more basic than the expensive cuisine she was used to, but in some ways, there was something satisfying about the lack of healthy ingredients.

The difference, at least, was not a disappointment– Talia had possibly eaten fast food once in her life before this, if that. Her surprise was so obvious that even some other customer's gave her a look.

Nonetheless, Talia went straight back to shopping immediately after. She picked up some more small trinkets, along with a few books and even a small card game. Eventually, in mid-afternoon, Talia decided that spending her entire day shopping was quite a waste, so she did some other activities. The place was even next to a large lake, which she spent a couple hours kayaking in leisurely.

Unfortunately, her fun was quickly cut short when she checked her League of Assassins communicator. It was a walkie talkie, albeit an extremely high-tech one, so it made a sharp, rigid crackle of static as Ra's attempted to contact her. Talia instantly checked the time, only to discover it was nowhere near curfew. Her eyebrows furrowed as she picked it up.

"Father?" Talia's voice was quiet and slightly timid with confusion. She bit her lip, considering the lack of warning to such a call. It was concerning, to say the least. "Is everything alright? It's nowhere near time for me to head back yet, if I remember correctly, so what's your reason for contacting me so early?"

Ra's, on the other hand, was much louder. He exclaimed his each and every word into the microphone, seeming to get louder and louder each second. The tone was harsh and quick, emphasizing each consonant with a clicking of his tongue. He was certainly upset. Angry, even. It startled Talia as he first began to speak back to her.

"Talia, you must return home immediately. No dawdling in the slightest. I want you here, standing right in front of me, as soon as possible," He threatened. Talia's smile was immediately wide off her face, as was her entire happy manner. Her shoulders constricted. "We have a lot to talk about, and you have a lot to answer for, Miss. I hope you understand that the punishments will not be minor for your nearly traitorous behavior."

"But–" Talia swallowed down harshly, "What are you talking about? I didn't betray you! I promise! You're my family, I wouldn't ever…" Stutters riddled her words as she tried to defend herself. Her entire body language got shaky in the matters of a single second.

"Hello?" Talia called, now even more puzzled.

There wasn't a single answer.

She ran back to the vehicle as fast she could, leaping from one foot to the other and a rapid sprint. The other assassin followed behind, barely keeping up with her. When she finally got to the car, Talia neatly slid straight into her seat. Her lungs pushed in and out, panting for air after her speedy run, not to mention all the stressed thoughts running through her head that only made it harder to breathe.

Ignoring this struggle, Talia grabbed the seatbelt, throwing it over her body in the same swift, quick action as the run. The assassin took another second to get in after her, but they threw their own seatbelt on just as quickly, sensing her panicking urgency. They immediately turned the car on and began to back out.

It took half the entire drive back for Talia's breathing to turn back to normal, and that entire time, her face felt burning hot with shame.

She didn't even remember what she'd done that sparked her father to throw out the word 'traitorous', but the thought of betraying her own family made her stomach hurt. Talia nearly got carsick, sitting there, with warm cheeks and an uneasy stomach. Her throat gulped down more and more saliva in some futile attempt to keep her nerves in control, but the feeling hardly got better at all.

In fact, once they could see a little glimpse of the top of the League of Assassins headquarters in the distance, the knot in her stomach got a thousand times worse. Talia just barely resisted the urge to throw up.

Despite her initial instinctual speed, when the car truly did stop in front of that large building, Talia found herself frozen. She held her breath, letting the second of silent air give her the slightest moment of peace. Her eyes flapped shut, only to pop right back open again, this time wide with subtle terror. Her nose twitched nervously as her mind spun in chaos, attempting to sort out what she'd even done. It couldn't have been that bad, because otherwise, Talia would recognize it as such. He'd even used the word nearly, not truly, so it was fine… or perhaps not. Talia knew hardly anything.

Plunk! Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by an assassin politely opening up the door for her. But even then, a second longer of shock reigned her brain. Talia slowly scooched to the door, gently reaching a single foot out to get out of the car. Yet, she held that foot in the air for another moment before reluctantly stepping out and heading in to face Ra's.

Talia's eyes stared straight ahead, not daring to do so much as blink, as she plodded along through the entrance hallway. Each foot made no sound at all as they were carefully rolled to the floor.

A sitting room –one of many, actually– was placed as the first room after the hallway. It had a grand entrance, with an opening much larger than a door, that displayed several large, comfortable couches and seats with embroidered fabrics, all wrapping around an even bigger coffee table in the middle. Behind them, a large fireplace was glowing with a soft fire. It looked cozy, to say the least, and Talia might have even stopped there for a moment to calm down before facing her father if it wasn't for one thing.

Ra's was already sitting in the middle of the scene, with his legs crossed and his fingers folded together neatly, waiting for her.

Talia stared at her father, scanning his position up and down. He was calmer by body language than he'd sounded over the communicator, at least mostly. His back was leaned up against a pillow nonchalantly, and his legs and arms were in a quite normal, passive position. But, underneath his arms, was tucked a small array of papers. Even from the hallways, Talia could see wrinkles on the surface of them.

Her eyebrows furrowed again. Traitorous papers seemed a small matter, but at the same time, there were many things it could be.

She forced her feet to walk a couple of small, timid steps forward to get a better view, but to Talia's dismay, she still couldn't make out what those papers were about, and Ra's had not spoken a single word to her yet to clue her in. His eyelids hung relaxed, but with every step, Talia could see his chest heaving up and down a lot bit more. That calmness would not last long. She could feel it in the eerily quiet atmosphere.

"Father…" Talia whispered into that uncomfortable air, slow and uncertain. She took a few more steps into the room, still painfully sluggish in her pace. She watched carefully as Ra's' eyes opened fully, and he opened his mouth to address her.

"Talia," He whispered back in the same slow, uncomfortable tone– but not nearly as uncertain. He was confident as could be, with those little papers tucked so securely against his torso and lap. Suddenly, his voice got quicker. "Could you please hurry up and join me so we can begin with our little discussion?"

Despite her continuous hesitance, Talia was quick to nodd. She began to walk much quicker now, yet her feet still dragged across the floor with dwindling nerves. Her lower lip, as much as she tried to control it, was quivering. Ra's, still relatively calm, patted the seat next to him gently. Talia quickened even more, ending up right in that seat in a matter of a few seconds. Even then, though, she stared down at her lap.

"Now, I would say I was sorry to interrupt such a special day," Ra's stated. His voice was starting to get louder, with a growing tint of agitation lying in the mostly calm tone. "But this was more than necessary to speak about immediately, and with what this conversation is about, I don't exactly think you deserve to be rewarded for your actions, don't you think?" The agitation continued to become more and more present.

Talia gently shook her head, but then raised a single eyebrow, "Speaking of which… what, again, is this conversation about?" Her eyes looked left and right like a bouncing ball nervously. She fidgeted around with her hands, rubbing them against each other. "What are those… papers for?" Her eyes went straight back down to her lap after she spoke.

"Oh, you're not a foolish child. I'm sure you can figure it out." Ra's shrugged, but still did not lift his hands off the papers. Talia subtly leaned closer to him, attempting to see around his arms. Unfortunately, she couldn't make out any of the writing at all, simply that it was not printed, but handwritten. It did not make her eyebrows furrow any less. Ra's' eyes narrowed down on her. "Act innocent as you please, but I'm sure you've seen them before."

"Well… could you at least tell me where you got them?" Talia leaned back to her default position, giving up on the peeking. Her voice was still relatively quiet, at least back-to-back with Ra's' booming one, but it was getting slightly louder with each sentence. "Are they some kind of note spilling a secret about me, or a letter that happened to have my name as the address, or some kind of test result—?"

"Oh, Talia. You really seem to think this has much less to do with you than it does, don't you?" Ra's rolled his eyes, glancing down at the papers himself. His frown deepened, severely. "Well, you see, with how long I knew you would be gone today, I took the opportunity to take a quick check around your room. You're a teenager, after all, and adolescence can bring all kinds of dangers, both to you and the others surrounding. You're much more rebellious at this stage, often to your own downfall. It was a safety measure, and I wasn't planning on staying long. Just giving an innocent peek to your storage furniture and moving on."

Talia's eyes quickly widened, and her mouth gaped open. Her breathing, which was already so uncontrollable, managed to speed up in that mere second. She gulped as hard as her throat can handle, anticipating every one of his next words. She had things hidden in her room. With one more look at those papers, a specific one of those things immediately took her mind.

"But, unfortunately, upon looking in one of your drawers, I spotted this… writing piece of yours. At first it seems inconspicuous, but upon reading further… I see it clearly is much more than I originally suspected."

"You– You can't do that!" Suddenly, Talia's eyes stopped widening to become sharp in the corners, an abrupt tint of anger shining through. Her head stuck forward, throwing her hands, which were now fists, backwards. "I have the right to privacy! Those are my drawers to put what I want in, and you already knew I kept some very personal belongings in them. You could've at least warned me! I… I didn't expect you to…"

"As I already stated, it was for your own safety." Ra's' eyes were still more angry than hers as they glared downward. He curled his fingers backwards, pressing them against the papers to secure it down even more firmly. "Besides, it wouldn't have been a big deal at all if you were behaving as expected. You wouldn't be upset if you didn't have anything to hide, but… clearly, that was not the case."

Talia gulped again. Her eyes went back to being wide open in startle, with all her facial muscles relaxing from their anger. She wrapped her arms around herself softly, not daring to say another word, lest it trigger Ra's into even more anger than he already portrayed. Another gulp caught in her throat.

"I must say… You're quite the writer, Talia." Ra's patted the papers, making a small ruffling sound with them. His tongue clicked the roof of his mouth, making a noticeably tapping sound in the otherwise quiet environment.

"...I– I assume you read the whole thing, then?" Talia's head drooped, staring back at her lap, but she eyed Ra's from her peripheral vision. Her eyes drifted out of focus, passive in movement. "It was just a story, Father. I hope you didn't take…. Too much offense to it."

Ra's scoffed, "Oh, Daughter… you still don't get it, do you?"

Talia's head managed to lean downward even further, now not even daring to glance at Ra's from the corner of her eyes at all. Her hands had flopped down onto her lap, as well. They shook as she rested them on top of each other casually. The previous stomach ache was still very much present, tingling at every inch of her endless nerves. Gently, Talia shook her head.

Ra's scoffed again, this time even louder, "Have you ever even heard of basic family etiquette? Frankly, I'm starting to get concerned I completely failed as your parent. I thought I remembered teaching you to have some respect." He finally picked up his arms, throwing them into the air in an aggravated gesture. He picked up one of the papers and looked at it closely, reading a couple sentences. "Or at least, I was certain I taught you basic intelligence and self-awareness."

"Father, please," Talia muttered. She still didn't move her eyes a millimeter, "I didn't mean any harm."

Ra's pulled the piece of paper even closer to his eyes, "If that is of full truth, then why, exactly, would you write the story in the first place?" He shoved the piece of paper back down, looking back at Talia with the same rage-filled eyes. "Perhaps you don't understand exactly to what extent, but considering your behavior, I do believe you understand that it is not an acceptable story to be writing."

Talia's pupils went back to bouncing around the scope of her eyes, nervous and fidgety again. She wiggled her tongue, pushing around the water in her mouth to distract herself. The mild uneasy feeling in her stomach felt as if it were tripling with every one of Ra's' words, so she gently moved her hands to be around her stomach instead of on her lap, swallowing down the dull pains. She didn't even attempt to respond to Ra's in the slightest.

Suddenly, in a harsh movement, Ra's pulled all the papers up in a messy clump, "Talia, listen to me! This is not a small or insignificant matter, for several reasons that you should really be able to detect." He threw the story in her face, shoving her head back so she could see it for herself. His mouth snarled aggressively. "Just look at this! Twisting my own story so it was unrealistically happy. Happy for you, most of all, because your self-centered childish mind cannot comprehend the idea that perhaps, it was meant to be this way. Perhaps, even if it was a tragedy that Sora had to be a victim of my own ignorance, the lesson had to be taught to me one way or another!"

Talia's strong blows of breaths shot at the paper, fumbling it around in the air. Her eyes had widened from the sudden movement, leaning her neck as far back into the chair's backrest behind her as she could. The papers laid across her neck, only a few inches away, almost resembling a gentler version of a threat. Talia shuddered.

"It… it was just for my own amusement. It was just a concept. Sora just seemed like she… like she deserved better." Talia mumbled. Her father and her pressed at each other with strong, sharp eye contact. Talia's hands slowly rose in a gesture of desperate innocence. "I just wanted to utilize my imagination. I was bored, and I was only six when I wrote it, and–"

"This is such an awful story that even a six-year-old, if raised correctly, should understand better than to create it!" Ra's yelled. He pulled the papers away, though, throwing them on to the table– but only to lean closer to her himself. He screamed each word directly in her face, making Talia's breaths faster and faster by the second. "Six-year-olds are not given excuses to be downright terrible for their youth, are they?"

"I'm– I'm sorry!" Talia cried. The words were suddenly louder than her previous whispered, almost to the volume of a quiet shriek. At this point, her whole body was flat against the cushion, backing away from Ra's.

Fortunately, Ra's gradually took a couple steps away from her, "As you should be,"

He swiftly pivoted on his foot, turning away from Talia. In the same motion, he grabbed the story up from the coffee table before Talia had a second more to think of stealing it herself. He crossed his arms, crunching the papers extra in the process. Behind him, tears began to well up in the bottoms of Talia's eyes. Ever so slowly, the water seeped out and slowly began to roll down her cheeks, making their way down to her trembling pout.

A moment of silence fell over them, abruptly interrupting the loud, chaotic shouts. Ra's arms were folded behind his back, twitching slightly. Talia was twitching the whole time, as well, but in a much more uncomfortable way. Her head had returned to drooping like a sunflower. Eventually, Ra's spoke another time, this time much quieter. The sound lifted Talia up from the drooping, ever so slightly.

"You should be very disappointed in yourself, Talia."

Talia sucked in a big breath and blew it out, loud enough that even Ra's, from several feet away, could hear the gushing sounds. A few more tears dripped over, getting a bit faster. A quiet whimper cascaded from her lungs.

"I– I know," Her words were barely audible, and undeniably hesitant.

"Good," Ra's took another step forward, drifting slightly further from his daughter.

He paced around in a circle, but with a surprisingly slow pace. It was one foot at a time, no jumps, and even those steps were painfully exaggerated. The entire time, the silence had returned for, surrounding them in a mix of emptiness and fullness at the exact same time. Ra's glanced around the room as he walked. The fireplace, specifically, he eyed quite often.

As Ra's finished the circle, he found himself back facing Talia, "You understand why the story is wrong, don't you? Surely, you understand why it is invalidating and harmful to the entirety of my true, and very meaningful story, and how it's doing so. It's not exactly hard to figure out." He tapped his foot on to the floor, and then did it again, but this time as a much more firm stomp.

"Well, I…" Talia bit her lip, stuck in thought. A few tears managed to slip into her mouth as it hung open in the stutter, which she gulped down anxiously. "I… I don't completely… I kind of…. Well, I know it's naive to have written it, for sure. You referenced it as self-centered, as well. But I suppose I… I figured that could be boiled down to my young age, although obviously, it's much more than that."

Originally, after turning back, Ra's' eyes had faded back into the forced calmness that he'd shown when she'd first entered, but now, that quickly broke. Ra's' eyebrows narrowed immensely, glaring as he stared at her. His teeth gritted again, and his fists clenched with heated anger.

"I cannot believe you, Talia. You still don't understand the full scope of it?"

Talia's lips began to quiver again, almost vibrating with fear this time. She squeezed her own body as her mind quickly scrambled for the response Ra's was looking for. She glanced upwards. "No, I… I do. I just can't describe–"

"If you don't understand it, just admit it!" Ra's snapped. He leapt a few feet towards her, letting his cape fly into the air in the process. "As disappointing as it is that you don't, lying only makes it even more pitiful than it has to be… But regardless, I guess I'll have to explain it to you now, won't I?"

Talia shifted her hips, positioning her body so it faced him less. Her hair flew over her face, providing a thin layer between them. The dark strands cast clumpy shadows over the places they weren't already covered, effectively shielding Ra's from seeing her. But nonetheless, Talia's head lurched upwards in a small, timid nod.

"Fine then!" Ra's leapt another foot. His arms, already crossed tightly, pushed against each other even harder as his eyebrows tilted down at her. "First of all, you have disrespected Sora, out of all people, by treating the actions she died due to as a matter of meaningless luck! Do you wish to not learn from history? Do you wish to have your own mistakes result in someone else dying a similar, completely unnecessary death?... Most of all, do you wish I had taught you it was right?" He let out a quiet, exasperated grumble as Talia hesitated to answer.

"I— No," Talia stuttered out defensively. She leaned her head even farther from Ra's than it already was. Her feet spun around each other in a restless motion. "You're… You're interrupting it the wrong way, Father. It was… a cautionary tale, just like the real one! I only wanted to pay Sora the greatest of respects, I promise."

A distinct huff popped from Ra's mouth, "Lying to me again now, are we?" Ra's' eyebrows rose in faux amusement. He leaned right into Talia's face again, upholding an uncomfortably close eye contact. His voice had lowered in its aggression, to Talia's delight, but it didn't last long. "If it's a cautionary tale, then why didn't anything happen to the people who were –continuously, may I add– making those mistakes? They got perfect, moral-less happy endings! I'm not an idiot, Talia, for god's sake!"

Talia's feet fidgeted even faster now, but she didn't even dare open her mouth, as she already knew nothing good or sensical would come out of her messy excuses. After a moment of this, Ra's continued talking, now with a subtle smirk.

"That's what I thought. It appears you've finally chosen to quit lying. Thank you." He pulled his face back from Talia with this newly found confidence. But, regardless, his smirk quickly bounced back to a frown. "You have disrespected this whole family, and this whole league for that matter. This story shows all kinds of disloyalty to everything we stand for. Do you understand that, Talia?"

Talia solemnly nodded.

"This story, in itself, projects and encourages terrible beliefs. But, there is another thing that bothers me just as much, Talia. The original story, as I have told you many times before, is to be kept secret." Ra's' eyebrows narrowed to the point where they hardly looked open at all. His words weren't yelling, not currently, but Talia could see they were about to cross to that. "For Sora's own vengeance of killing the city, for privacy reasons… for so many more reasons, I made you promise that you would not spread the story, which already had at least one dreaded copy out there!...and you, My Dear, immediately agreed."

Talia flopped over even more, hardly holding herself up at all. She stared at the ground underneath her feet, with her eyes watery and blurry. The shame her father was urging to come out of her was pounding down on her chest. It only made her more exhausted and sick-feeling than she already was.

"Yet, apparently, since you wrote an important chunk of the story right down here, not even in the non-existent language but in a relatively commonly known one, you cannot keep a promise… can you?" Ra's whispered into her ear angrily.

For a moment, Talia continued to cry quietly. She looked back at the papers from the corner of her eye. They were terribly damaged, somehow even worse than last time she'd seen them, but they were still there. Her face was hidden from Ra's enough that he wouldn't see, so she softly smiled at the papers. From odd angles, she could even read parts of it, which only made her smile more.

"I have raised a girl of much less than honor, haven't I? Breaking promises to her very own flesh and blood?" Ra's growled, quiet yet aggressive in every definition of the word. He scoffed one more time, and stomped again, making a loud thump that echoed on the floor eerily.

Upon glancing back at her father, Talia's smiles vanished immediately, replaced with that guilt yet again. Her influx of emotions was rapid, sparking random drastic changes, as she tried to sort out her feelings on the story. In Ra's' opinion, at least, it was absolutely shameful, and she couldn't help but feel the shame. Yet, at the same time, the story was important. In the bottom of her heart, she could never truthfully tell him she regretted her decision– not on her life.

But, interrupting the consideration was a sudden realization. This realization made her expression transform to something else entirely. Pure, utter, frustration. The muscles surrounding her eyes all abruptly tensed, returning Ra's' angry glares.

"As if you've never broken a promise to me before, Father." Talia muttered bitterly, so low that Ra's heard only incoherent sounds, "So many, in fact. So many that meant so much more than this."

Ra's' eyes widened slightly, "What was that?" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, losing most of his anger from the pure puzzlement of such inaudible speaking. He took a few steps around Talia, until he was standing directly in front of her, around three feet away. A much more normal position to speak to her, surely, as he waited for her to explain. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Talia quickly waved it off. The frustration had worn off in less than 20 seconds, with her sheepishness covering her expression once again. Her cheeks grew to have a dark red tint from embarrassment, and her eyes went back to being solemnly relaxed. She hung her head again, letting the shame come back a bit.

With that short, evading answer, they paused their conversation. Ra's immediately looked down at the story, which he still grasped in his hands. His eyes squinted to read the messy, wrinkly words, and his nose scrunched up with it. The movement was partially from just the fine print, but also partially from utter disgust. His frown had only grown throughout their arguments, stretching his lips uncomfortably.

Ra's grumbled at the writing, infuriated by every single word of it. His teeth rubbed against each other with a small shisking sound in pure rage. For the second time, he threw the stack onto the coffee table with a harsh throw. Talia's mouth opened wide, gasping at the sudden movement. He turned to her, still rubbing his teeth together.

"Now, of course, although it was useful for example through this discussion, it's really about time I get rid of this horrifying thing." He thought aloud, abruptly breaking their silence.

Although Ra's was currently in the midst of a strict, careless shrug, Talia's mouth opened even wider. It was obvious that he would do this. It was obvious that he would not want evidence, or broken promises, or disrespectful beliefs to continue to exist in his household, but it had all come so fast. Her tears were thickening, even as she desperately tried to hold the startle in, and, if her body wasn't already shaking, it certainly was now. Large, visible shakes.

In the heat of the moment, Talia found herself thrusting herself up from the seat and ripping every single one of those traitorous pages from her father's hands.

"What's wrong with you, Child!?" Ra's exclaimed. He instantly reached over to her clingy yet incredibly shaky hands and tugged the object back into his own. He began to march over to the fireplace, and with the bright lights of the fire reflecting and lighting up his eyes, he unlatched the fireplace's protective screening. "You should be grateful for me burning the evidence of your shameful actions!"

"I don't know…." Talia whispered weakly. She followed Ra's, much slower and gentler with her steps, and watched the glowing fire light up the backs of the papers. Suddenly, the previously cozy, innocent-looking fire appeared menacing to her peering eyes. Nonetheless, Talia quickly wiped away the tears covering her face, and held her arms behind her back.

Ra's held the papers close to the flame, grinning with guilty pleasure. The tips of them came closer and closer, only for him to be stopped, yet again.

"I'm sorry, Father, I just– I can't let you destroy it!" Talia screamed as she dove over and began to wrestle the story back out of Ra's hands. Ra's' eyes opened wide in startle, but quickly narrowed down at her again, fuming with anger. Talia didn't even notice as tears absolutely blinded for a split second. "I need that story!" She cried.

"Need? I believe you can live without a few papers, Talia!" He screamed back. His fingers grasped the papers as firmly as he could, pulling them towards his upper arms. Talia, of course, did the exact same thing back to him. Ra's groaned with anger, only pulling harder. "I said it once and I'll say it again, Talia– What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Well, I said this once and I'll now say it again, as well– I. Don't. Know!" Talia shrieked, pulling the papers further towards her. Her nose had become sniffly from crying, and her voice started to become scratchy from it, as well. Sobs were continuing to fly out of her endlessly. "I'm sorry, Father…"

Ra's finally managed to fully rip the papers away from her, flying backwards from the momentum.

"...So, so sorry."

For a second, they both stood, now several feet apart, gazing at each other in silence. Neither made another move, simply stumbling away from each other in shock as loud, frantic breathing became the only thing to be heard. Both of them were leaning over, panting towards the ground as they attempted to recover.

Ra's pushed himself back up, ceasing his puffs, "If you're really sorry, Talia, you'll let me do this." He slowly began to walk back over to the fireplace, with Talia watching from the side passively. She was still extremely shaken-up, with tears dripping down to her shoulders, but she attempted to gulp it all down as much as possible. Ra's' hands got closer and closer again, and Talia's breath seemed to get faster and faster in unison.

Yet again, Talia dove. Ra's grunted in aggravation at the sight, jumping away just in time before she managed to get hold of the papers again.

"Give them back! They're mine, not yours to eliminate!" Talia's voice had reached his peak, screeching each word as loud as she could in pure desperation. Her mind was spinning like a rollercoaster rather than exactly thinking, and thus, when her opportunity fell out of sight, she immediately got recklessly impulsive.

With nothing to grab out, Talia ended up hitting the floor instead. She still didn't truly fall, though, as she perfectly caught herself and slid on to her knees, pushing herself back up immediately as if it hadn't even happened. Her hands thrusted towards the papers again, only to, unsurprisingly, have them pulled too far away. This was the point where she really got out of control.

Talia threw a punch towards Ra's' guts as hard as she could, gritting her teeth as she did so.

Ra's blinked rapidly, in pure amazement of her violent actions. He pulled away just in time, so he hardly received any of the impact, and Talia found her arm likely felt sorer from simply shoving it that hard than his stomach felt hurt. Regardless, she threw another punch, reaching up towards the bottom of his chin to throw his head upwards, but that one was simply dodged by one of his hands. This meant the story was less well-grasped, then, though– Talia reached for it again.

"First of all, you're a fool to even attempt to physically fight someone of so much more experience." Ra's stated. His tone was loud and raged, yet not exactly to the extent of yelling, but a more quiet anger. "Second of all, you are the single worst-behaved child I've ever encountered in my life, Talia, and you're lucky I'm taking pity on you enough to hold back in my defenses. But, going along with that, I heavily suggest you quit right now and get started with your apologies, for you're going to need everything you can get after this one."

"I'm a well-trained teenager, so at least I stand more of a chance that I did at seven!" Talia protested, "Believe me, I certainly don't enjoy having to hit you, but I also just…I can't let you take away that story, okay!?" Talia pulled as hard as she could, squeezing her eyes tight in the strain of the tiring effort. Her arms felt numb from all these punches and pulls.

"It's all I have left," She added under her breath faintly.

"A particularly unintelligent teenager, perhaps," Ra's muttered snarkily. He let out several more grunts, getting louder and louder with exaggerated frustration. His eyebrows furrowed intensely, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a smile appeared. It was very much a smirk filled with intimidation, not light-hearted joy, but it still contrasted his anger noticeably. "Did I ever tell you about the last time someone, as courageous and impulsive as yourself, attempted to stop me from getting rid of their little 'story' that included my own life story, which I've made everyone I tell it to swear to never tell or create evidence of? Did I tell you about what happened to him, Talia?"

Talia's eyes flew wide open, "You– You did,"

Ra's' smirk only grew upon hearing her uncertain, fear-riddled words. He pushed his face closer to hers, getting a direct look inside her eyes as he spoke his next sentence, watching her reaction only get more and more upset by the second. Her grip shook from even the first sentence, so his next lines did no better.

"Ah, and what happened to him, Talia?" Ra's questioned. He made his voice seem ever so slightly higher in tone, posing an odd kind of innocence to what he was asking. "Surely you remember, with it being so… memorable, and all."

"You…. killed him," Talia's voice got quiet quickly as she mentally sorted out the meaning behind these sudden questions.

"I did," Ra's nodded slowly. He pulled the paper, abrupt and hard, nearly completely yanking out of Talia's grip, which was gradually getting weaker with the questions. Fortunately, Talia bent her fingers more, catching it just in time, but her grip was still weaker than it was originally. Ra's' eyebrows lowered. "Such a beloved friend and everything. It's a shame, don't get me wrong… but, at the same time, there are situations where even murder can become a pure neccesity. Isn't there, Talia?"

Talia's eyebrows immediately furrowed. Her mouth dropped open, "Is that a… Are you… Are you threatening my life?" Her voice got high-pitched at the end in another burst of disbelief.

Ra's considered the question for a moment. His eyes bounced to the side, deep in thought while simultaneously continuing to play tug-o-war with Talia. He bit his tongue, holding it there as he thought. Talia swallowed a few more rushing tears as she watched him genuinely consider the possibility, but fortunately he shook his head.

"No, perhaps not truly… not in a way I am sincere on," Ra's said. His eyebrows were now furrowed, but quickly relaxed the more he spoke, shrugging the question off altogether. "Well, not if you listen to the warning and start behaving immediately, at least. Just take your hands off the evidence if you wish to keep your full safety, Daughter!"

Suddenly, Ra's violently kicked Talia to the ground as hard as he could, immediately turning back to the raging fire. Without a moment of hesitance, he threw the whole bundle in. The fire only grew, reaching up to the top of the bricks for a second as it devoured the contents with ease. Ra's' smirk had returned as he dusted his hands off and trotted away.

Talia got up just a moment too late, looking back to see her precious writing being burned to nothing.

"Father?" Her cheek ached from the kick, feeling all rough on the skin from the way his shoes had scraped against it even harder than she had punched him. Talia's eyes darted around, searching for her father to simply speak to. Apologize, scream at, or ask pitiful questions– Talia wasn't sure. But it didn't really matter, as Talia's eyes only darted back to the fire and the small, rapidly-roasting scraps of papers that were left inside it.

Suddenly, Talia's heartbeat began to pound again, and her impulses flipped on like a light switch. She frantically reached into the burning hot fireplace, attempting to grab any pieces she could spare right out of it, only to, unsurprisingly, pull her fingers back out of instinct once they felt the fuming heat coming from it. She hung her head for what must've been the hundredth time that evening, and simply watched as her work faded away. She could still read a few of the bits that were taking longer to burn, so she whispered them in her mind.

'And they all lived happily ever after'

Talia watched, tears rolling down her face, as those beautiful words were burned to dust.

Tiny, brittle, empty dust.

-------------------------------------

Ending Note:

If I have any readers at all (almost no likes rn but we vibin'), I know what you're thinking-- this is the end? Really? You're just gonna make the poor girl loose all hope and then just leave it to be dreary?

Well, I have good news! This isn't the end. Maybe.

Obviously, I don't have any more chapters written, and l said "out of 6", not to mention the fact that as depressing an ending as it is, this chapter, I would say, does certainly give some kind of conclusion. Perhaps not a satisfying one, but a conclusion nonetheless. Therefore, it's not like I can't leave it here. In fact, I may.

But at the same time, I feel like writing 6 chapters to say goodbye to a good backstory before it even gets ruined out of simple expectations isn't quite enough, in the case that it truly DOES get ruined. I mean, it probably is enough, but I want to be able to spin the ruining into something good. Either way, this fic will not cease to exist, as it was made before the comic even came out. Therefore, I have decided that I shall make this fic even longer if it does get ruined, in direct spite of it.

I have two more chapter ideas I could add on to this, therefore, we'll say at most it could get two more chapters. At the end of those chapters, the ending would likely be much more hopeful. I also have ideas for ways to do a single more chapter and make the ending more hopeful as well, but in a different way, so I've decided to make it a scale. If it's an actually pretty decent issue, then no more chapters. If it's extremely bad and absolutely ruins the story, I'll do the two chapters. If it's kinda bad but could be worse, one more chapter.

I'll need time to write those chapters, though, so before then, I can let you guys know what the plan is by editing the "out of" in these posts so it says whatever the full number will eventually be. Or, you could probably also just check my blog in general, because if it's really bad, I'll be ranting about it here. If it IS decent/good though, then a simple lack of change after the next couple days should prove it. Not that you guys probably care enough to check it, but just in case, that's how you could.

Well, I guess we'll just see what happens tomorrow with the new Robin issue!

[baticorngirl]

Title: "And They All Lived Happily Ever After"

(Dedicated to @mac-attack5)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Fandom: Batman/DC

Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationship(s): Ra's al Ghul & Talia al Ghul, Talia al Ghul & Melisande, (Heavily Mentioned) Ra's al Ghul/Sora,

Characters: Ra's al Ghul, Talia al Ghul, Melisande (Talia's mother),

Summary:

When she was small, Talia al Ghul's favorite bedtime story used to be her father's own origin story. It had excitement, twists, revenge, and a moral that Ra's urged her to follow constantly, but that was not the reason she liked it. She liked it because of the beginning. The part where her father was kind, anti-murder, anti-death, and pro-humanity. Perhaps it was a guilty pleasure of hers, to imagine that time. Her father would be very upset to think of her enjoying these thoughts, she knew. Perhaps rightfully. Perhaps she needed to learn better with maturity, or needed to stop being so naive.

Or perhaps, those thoughts were the most beautiful thing she had.

Chapter 1 of 6

<Click here to read it on Ao3 instead>

<Click here to read Chapter 2>

<Click here to read Chapter 3>

<Click here to read Chapter 4>

<Click here to read Chapter 5>

<Click here to read Chapter 6>

Author's note:

First of all, my dear readers, if you don't want heavy spoilers for Birth of the Demon, this fic is not for you. It's mostly based off of that version of Ra's' origin (with some additions from The Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul too ofc), so almost the entire thing's gonna end up spoiled if you haven't read it already.

Second of all, if you are one of the rare people that has some huge problem with frequent updates, this fic is also not for you. It shall be updating twice a day, for reasons I will explain in a moment. All six chapters have already been fully written and edited, so, going along with that, this fic is labelled with the characters/relationships of the full story. (Specifically, Melisande will not show up until next chapter, and there is no Graphic Depictions of Violence yet.)

Third of all, this fic has a little backstory in itself that I would like to speak of. Basically, here's what happened:

Last month, I was just casually messaging @mac-attack5 (the person this fic is dedicated to) on discord, and we ended up talking about the headcanon that this fic's idea surrounds. The ideas for it got very angsty very fast, though, so...

Anyway, I took that as a challenge, so here we are. I have written a 6-chapter fic, which will end up totaling to 44k words when finished, to make my friend cry. I shall keep you guys updated on whether or not she does cry. If they don't, then... LOOK I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO, OKAY????

That being said, this chapter is probably the least angsty out of all of them, so I don't expect any tears for the moment.

But, as a matter of fact, that's actually not the entire backstory. The reason it shall get updated so quickly is because I must get it out before the 25th. Why, might you ask? Because that's when the next Robin issue comes out, and this fic ALSO serves as a little goodbye to Ra's' wonderful old backstory, since I am 100% sure Robin is going to ruin it. The preview doesn't look like the worst thing in the world, but A) I wrote this fic before it and B) it's still seems like they're gonna push away the importance of Ra's' uncle for his mother, that Ra's will probably treat Damian worse than he would at this point realistically, etc. and just in general I don't trust DC writers lol so I gotta stay pessimistic so I'll at least get proven right if it's bad.

Okay, that should be it. Enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------

It was almost 8:00 at night.

Talia's voice was high-pitched, squealing. She plopped down onto her bed, bouncing with energy. Her feet kicked in the air, even as her bottom began to settle down on the firm mattress. Her squealing didn't even pause, though, as she began to chant out fumbled incomplete sentences about beds and stories and sleep. She looked at the bedroom's door, watching as her father calmly followed her in, over 10 feet behind her.

She spun herself to face him, staring up with her beady 4-year-old eyes. Talia pushed herself up from sitting again, flinging her stubby arms out from the bed impatiently. With another weary step, Ra's came into her reach. She grabbed his hand and rushed him closer, until he began to pull a chair over and sit next to her bed, ready to begin. Another squeal of excitement echoed out of the little girl's mouth.

Talia swiftly toppled into a lying position, plopping her head down onto the fluffy pillows. Her body shifted over to point towards Ra's, still staring at him with big eyes. He eyed her back, rolling his eyes, but only a moment and an exasperated sigh later, simply patted her head affectionately. She giggled.

"Alright then, my child," Ra's leaned over to her, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. His fingers pressed together. "Any specific kind of story you'd like to hear this time?" He titled his head, letting his back hunch over while still cracking his neck back to see Talia's bright eyes.

Talia tugged her blankets over her shoulders, snuggling into them, "Any story," She whispered, a grin growing on her face. She fidgeted under the covers, kicking her legs around with a persistent childish energy. Her head rocked backwards, "Any exciting story,"

"Okay," Ra's paused, patting Talia's blankets down on her nonchalantly. He glanced to the left, letting his pupil drift to the top corner of his eye. Simultaneously, he bit the inside of his mouth and lowered his eyebrows, lost in thought as he considered his storytime options. After a minute, he slowly began to nod to himself, but before he could even start to open his mouth again, Talia opened her own and spoke rapidly.

"Story!" She squeaked, "Come on! Please! Tell me a story!" She parsed every sentence oddly, letting everything be short and concise, unlike Ra's' thinking time. Her head popped up from the pillow. There really was no end to her energy, apparently.

Ra's nudged her head back down, "Yes, yes, I will. Patience, Talia. Patience." Despite his insistence, he put his hand up to his chin, rubbing it with thought. It took much too long of this dreary silence before he fully decided and finally gave Talia the entertainment she had been bugging him for.

Fortunately, though, he did eventually open his eyes wide in realization, "I… I have one. It's… exciting, I believe. With a great moral of the story, too. A very important one." His voice deepened, "I want you to learn it and remember it well, Talia. I want you to focus on it more than the story itself." His mouth fell into a flat frown, running creases down the sides of his nose.

"Okay," Talia's chin bounced in a small nod, pushing the blankets downwards slightly. "I'll try to remember it,"

Ra's' eyebrows sharpened, casting shadows over his eyes, "You must remember it, not just try," He criticized, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. His arms crossed, "You must follow it, most importantly. Listen carefully. Don't make any immature jokes at the expense of such a story… or any jokes at all, really. Unlike most basic fairy tales, this story isn't even partially an overdone fib… it's just the reality of what happens -What did happen, as a matter of fact- when a person spends their life making this mistake. It's for your own good tha–"

"I'll do all that," Talia's chin bounced again, pushing the blanket just the tiniest bit further. With the way her feet rubbed together rapidly, it had become more than clear how bored she was. "Just start!"

"God, you're a lost cause," Ra's spit out under his breath, "When I say you need to remember this, I mean you, specifically. I've seen you, the way you speak about my job. The way you speak about me, the way you speak about this league, the way you speak about our sacrifices in general– It could be worse, but it's flawed. You haven't fully grasped this concept, even with my constant teachings." He glared.

"I...understand," Talia's chin bounced in yet another nod, but slower. She rolled flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling as her blank expression quickly proved her claim as a lie. But after a moment, she just shrugged and turned back towards him, smiling again. "But Father, come on! You told me there was excitement!"

Ra's' shoulders rose, and his breath became much louder. He huffed at Talia's disregard for the 'important moral', pressing his teeth against each other sternly. His neck leaned over, sighing again as he rested his head on his propped-up hand. Talia blinked, confused yet again by his behavior.

Ra's pushed his hand up, flinging away a short strand of hair, "Fine, fine, I'll just let you figure out all this when I'm telling it if you lack such patience," His expression gradually softened the more he glanced at Talia's adorable face. "Hopefully I am not acting foolish to trust you with such an important story at this ignorant age of yours. Just don't go around telling everyone you see and…"

"I won't!" Talia instantly swore, nodding furiously. Her eyes lit up, only now realizing that this importance made the story even more of an excitement. "I promise, Father!"

"Good," Ra's nodded in return. He took a deep suck of air into his mouth and lightly coughed, clearing his throat to prepare. Talia pressed her eyes closed in a sleepy gesture. Ra's' mouth flipped open, and his tongue twirled into a familiar pattern, "Once upon a time, in a faraway land… there was physician."

His backstory. His origin. Everything that made him who he was today, tucked in that little story. He didn't tell many people it, and frankly tried to hide it most of the time. Burying the past out of shame, grief, anger, or some twisted mix of the three was not something he was innocent of. No, not in the slightest. But history repeats itself, they say, and he could feel Talia going down that route. Even in her smile. She was still such a young child that surely it meant nothing, he would assure himself, but every action hinted. The hints built up, almost like a subtle taunt.

"Blood is gross," She had stated one day. So confident, so adamant. Her hips swung as she marched in there and made her statement. "Human corpses are gross."

Ra's had cocked his head back, "Why? Humans deserve it with the way they've treated their own habitat. It's revenge, if you put it harshly, or in truth, hardly more than a natural consequence." He turned his back on her again, shrugging. "Unless you knew the person on a deeper level, they should be sparking only joy in an intelligent witness."

"But that person was alive and then they're not," Talia argued, "That's gross and bad, because now the person has to get to a Lazarus Pit to go back to living their life. That doesn't seem good."

"As I just said, even if it's bad for that individual, it was deserved and, in most cases, a necessary punishment." Ra's shifted through a stack of books, which had laid neatly on the table in front of him, His voice had substantially increased in volume, turning harsher in tone. "If humanity doesn't benefit, that is positive, not negative."

"But–"

"But you have not been paying any attention to the lessons, have you?" Ra's accused. He spun on his heel, finally fully turning to face her. He took a few steps towards her, only to waiver of the path to grab a globe off of a nearby shelf. With a soft plop, Talia felt him place the globe in between her arms. She stared down at it curiously. Ra's kneeled down next to her, staring as well.

Ra's picked up a single finger, giving the globe a gentle spin. He placed the finger down on where it landed on, tracing it against the smooth surface. With a hint of hesitance, Talia put her finger down next to his. There were words written there, which Ra's was currently reading silently. Talia was still learning to read, though, so she simply mouthed to herself the few parts she could make out. The words were not a country's name, though, as this was not a normal globe. It was a kind of key, connecting symbols to words and descriptions. Each symbol was scattered over the map. The climate, the plants and the animals of each environment, carefully shown. Like a very specific map would, but in a spherical form.

The countries weren't even labeled, as a matter of fact. There was another globe, usually laying under a thin layer of dust next to this one, that could give Ra's his information on that if he had forgotten. But this one was not to remember labels or names, as almost every single one of those borders were man-made. Fake, ruled to exist through the minds of one species. The only names that were labeled were the continental plates. It was all that mattered to Ra's, when he looked at this globe, and all he wished to teach his daughter, at least in this moment.

"This is what the world looks like now," He explained, "Gorgeous oceans, gorgeous trees. Just a gorgeous planet, wouldn't you say? Absolutely beautiful, with all its thriving life of all kinds of animals. A miracle creation. Our miracle creation." He pressed his palm against it, rubbing the globe as he quickly pointed to different areas. Teaching Talia through gestures, he gave a tap to the key, as well.

Talia smiled, "Yes," Her eyes opened wide with wonder.

"But it's a privilege to live here, isn't it? Something we should appreciate?" He remarked. Taking his hands and eyes off the globe, he stretched his legs upwards until he stood tall over Talia. Talia's eyes followed upwards, nodding. "Well, the humans aren't appreciating it, so we must cut back on them, as it is the only effective way to save our planet. We must get rid of 9/10th of them as if they are litter –which, with the way they scatter litter around aimlessly, they have proved to quite literally be– but your many lessons, if you were paying any attention at all, should have explained all this to you in solid detail."

Talia glanced down at her shoes, fidgeting, "I know," She pulled the globe up to her chest, hugging her arms around it securely. She tapped against it's hollow ball for a moment before looking back up at her father. "They need to be punished, it's about the protection, I know…. But it just seems like a lot of death. People look sad when they die. It makes me sad."

"If you want to hold your full potential as an assassin, we'll need to work through that," Ra's stuck his index finger in the air, making a mental note of the problem. He paused for a moment, only to then stride over to his table of books and go back to sorting through them. Talia, still in his peripheral vision, pouted. "For the time being, since you're still so far away from becoming one, just always keep in mind what I taught you. Stating the wrong opinions, such as corpses being bad, is only going to manipulate you into believing them more. We don't wish for that to happen, do we?" Ra's called over to her.

"No, we don't," Talia nodded,

"So then keep your naive opinions to yourself until you have matured," Ra's advised, flipping one of the books open with a small swack. Talia nodded again, still frowning. When she left the room, her eyes glanced only to the floor. Her hips did not swing, but rather drooped. Ra's wasn't paying attention, though.

Despite all the nodding Talia had pleased him with, that was far from the last time Talia said such traitorous statements. The only difference was, they were usually said to someone else. Of course, word still trailed back to her father regardless, and although he kept quiet, this behavior worried him to the fullest extent.

It reminded him of his young self so, so very much. The same young man that betrayed his wise uncle's mildly-murderous nomads, and the same one who saved an evil person's life only for it to result in a much kinder person's death. He had to teach her better. So, without an ounce more of a hesitance, he illustrated the story's setting with his words, letting a large city in the middle of a golden desert seep into her sleepy imagination. Then describing Sora, and himself, so much younger, just before beginning to paint out the royalty of that city.

"The Sultan had one son named Runce. That son was very muscular but very ugl–" He bit his tongue only a moment before slipping out such a petty word. He could insult Runce once any spoilers were out of the question, at the end of the story. "His son was muscular and skilled in horse-riding, along with many other catches such as simply being royalty in itself, but he had no respect at all. He was not just rude, but blatantly awful to those around him…."

Ra's went back to explaining the story in a matter-of-fact tone, describing the incidents and flaws Runce obviously possessed and showed constantly. Then, he quickly switched to a slightly different topic, deciding to go to the Lazarus pit creation and, right before that, his attempts to save an old woman's (Huwe's mother, to be specific) life.

"I know this may surprise you, Talia," He quietly remarked. A sadness lay in his voice, low and gravelly, "But back when I failed to save that old woman's life, I was displeased by seeing a human being die. Overdramatic, really. I went on and on about death taking away loved ones and the despair of it all… death, how terrible, I thought. Death, a fate worse than anyone deserves…."

Talia's eyes popped open with curiosity. She scooched up horizontally more, still laying down but with her head positioned so it was propped up against her pillowed. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were widened, "But that's crazy. I mean, not what you used to say, but…. You couldn't have been like that. I know you. That's not you!" She laughed, but there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, mixed with another hint of something quite the opposite– intrigue.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it?" Ra's' eyebrows rose, glancing up to make brief eye contact with her. Not one hint of laughter lay in his expression, though. It chilled Talia, just the slightest bit. "Calm down, I told you, no jokes. But yes, I see what you mean… it's ridiculous to think I could've acted so willfully ignorant of all the horrid people in the world. So naive to the horror of humanity as a whole, truly. But, unfortunately… Well, of course I would not lie to you, Daughter." He flung his head over to face the ground again.

"I never said any of that," Talia mumbled, "I just said you're different now. You're the one hating on your old self, not me."

A single eyebrow rose on Ra's' face, "Oh, I'm just saying what we are all made aware of in the League of Assassins, Talia. It's so obvious, and I do hope you're not ignoring the facts." He stated, sounding almost apathetic with such a lack of tone. "Just promise me, Talia… when you grow older, you won't act as naive as me, will you?"

"Umm…." Talia wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her shoulders uncertainly. Ra's pushed his head forward, gesturing for her to go on. She glanced around the room, back and forth and back and forth. "I won't act naive." Talia stated monotonously.

"Good," Ra's swallowed down a load of phlegm before continuing his story, "As I was saying, when that old woman died, I spoke about all my views of death….. The pains of death, how brutal was the enemy of humanity. How brutal was my enemy, I would describe it as. Everyone used to describe the words I spoke as prattle… well, most of it, and frankly they had a point. I was lost in this wondrous world where I could be anything I wanted. Where the world could be anything I thought it was. I was an adult, -albeit a young one- but an adult, most certainly… yet I acted like no more than a child. Not like you, Talia, My Dear, though. I've taught you better than that. I acted like a particularly immature, sheltered child…."

"Wait, Father…." Talia paused, eyes widening even more than before. "Does that mean you didn't kill people?" Her young voice squeaked again.

"Yes, clearly, but… just let me continue." He picked up his hand, pushing air around as he quickly waved away the question. Talia looked to the side, considering this answer even as Ra's changed the subject. "Huwe tried to kill me, as he had previously threatened to, and I was about to let him, when–"

"Why would you let him kill you?" Talia blurted out. Her nose scrunched up, looking almost disgusting by the idea.

Ra's sighed, loudly, as her expression faded. He put a hand up to his forehead, facepalming in annoyance.

"You do need to stop questioning every little detail of the story, Talia." He let out another sigh, pushing Talia down onto her bed. With a gentle plop, he pushed her blankets back over her. "I almost let him kill me…. Well, out of curiosity, if I remember correctly. It was a long time ago, it's… hard to remember. But I loved to learn. I suppose the afterlife is something we have learned very little about, isn't it? Not that it matters much. Death is something you inflict on the wrong, on your enemies… not yourself. Immortality is the goal. Immortality is always the goal, and I've nearly achieved it now, but then I hadn't. Frankly, none of this matters, though…. At some point I'll die permanently, and then I'll learn more of that, but even then won't be able to inform the living. There was no reason not to wait, so yet again, this is just proof of how foolish I used to act. Sure, I discovered germs and invented the Lazarus Pit at that time, but when it came to basic common sense, such as self-preservation skills and any matter of awareness, I was horribly lacking ..."

Talia glanced away from Ra's, "Al…right," Her nose was still a bit scrunched up, but the muscles were beginning to relax. "I guess you were just stupid….. Or really easy-going. Even with getting killed." She squeezed a corner of the blanket between her fingers.

"Yes, yes… something along those lines. I will say that I simply wasn't against the idea of dying, not in the slightest bit for it. That would be a completely different situation." Ra's explained, making a small, loose, hand gesture in the air with one of his hands. With that same hand, he waved this question away using the same gesture as he did to the last one. "Now, if you'll care to stop interrupting me, I do need to continue my story."

Talia flopped to her side, specifically the one facing directly away from her father. She made a small squeak of acknowledgement, but then stayed quiet to let her father speak as he had instructed. He went on and on for around a couple minutes, pulling Talia's imagination through the story. The entire time, she hardly stirred. Her ears perked up at some parts, of course, as proof she was fully listening, but her mouth certainly didn't pop open to shout out some curious queries. Ra's seemed pleased by this, in a quiet kind of way. His shoulders were loose and relaxed, at ease as he spoke.

Eventually, his shoulders did start to hunch, though. Not through anger or annoyance, especially not at his currently well-behaved daughter, but a tingling of stress and sadness in his mind. He had just resurrected Runce in the story. Runce was alive, now, and he had already gotten past his young self's original reaction. There was only one thing left to happen. It made him twitch, then pushed that twitch into a shudder. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a breath before he spoke the next part.

"Well, Talia," He commented, drifting out of the story's plots for a moment. "The next part has excitement, I'll tell you that much. It's climactic, at least. Something happens. But… well, you'll have to wait until later for the positive excitement, for right now is… the consequence." His volume abruptly lowered, reaching almost a reluctant whisper.

Talia turned back to him, eyes wide open,"Don't spoil the next part, just tell! Does Runce say sorry about his actions after you saved him, or does he still act mean, or ..." Talia's excitement quickly lessened as she noticed her father's stern and saddened expression sharpening down on her. Biting her lip, she frowned. "Oh…. um, just go ahead," Her voice wavered, unsure what to make of her father's body language.

"The Lazarus Pit madness is what happened, Talia," Ra's made eye contact with Talia through a piercing gaze. His entire body froze, suddenly even more exhausted than before. "That cruel man… that cruel human is what happened. I don't blame the Lazarus Pit, truthfully, because I doubt it was what made his desire to act so brutal. It simply gave him the guts to go for it. It simply made him turn far enough, a turn that he likely would've made on his own regardless of the insanity… if it wasn't for the mortal illness that I cured. What happened was that he acted so horribly, naturally, human."

"But–" Talia muttered, "But what did he do?"

"He grabbed Sora," Ra's stated softly, "He did it all the time, but much more violently on this occasion. Now, I have no issue with violence, at least presently, but not against Sora. Not against someone who deserved only the gentlest of grabs. But, well…as much as I tried to stop him and save her, he…. strangled her to death." His eyes closed half-way, looking around as he considered the statement. At this point, he didn't quite look sad, but rather, emotionless. Every ounce of expression seemed to be whisked away in his far-off gaze.

Talia's mouth gaped open, "Oh," She pulled up her blankets, shuddering slightly herself. She had been told it would be an exciting story, not a true story of murder. Her lips quivered, forming a shaky pout. Her eyebrows tensed. She was so small, just half the size of her father, and her mind so fragile. But just as she was about to get even more upset, or even let out a tear at the terrifying tale, a glimpse of hope sparkled in her eyes. Still a bit shaky, her lips curled up. "Oh, I know! You'll just put her in the pit! It's already right there and prepared!"

"I tried to," To Talia's dismay, Ra's' frown only deepened.

"Did it– Did it not work?" Talia asked, "Did Sora… go crazy as well? Show her human inside?"

"Of course not, Sora was wonderful!" Ra's yelled, but his tone went straight back to normal only a moment after. "Regardless, I didn't even get that far to find out what would've happened…. Because I got strung along to the sultan's dungeons. For the crime of slaughtering an innocent woman… the one his son had committed. There were multiple witnesses, but no one stood up for me. Not one of those people cared about Sora's suffering, and they certainly didn't care about my wrongful suffering, either. No one was on our side." His head drooped down as his eyes sharpened with anger.

Talia's lips went back to their shaky quivering. Her throat felt itchy, wanting to say something while also wanting to close up and keep quiet forever at the same time. She didn't have anything to say, exactly, at least that she wanted her father to hear. Her body twisted around, burying her face up against her pillow.

Her father's gaze softened, seeming weak for half a second. His entire body slouched, dreary and outdone deep inside. Talia's eyebrows furrowed at the behavior, so different from his usual confidence and rage. His eyelids dropped to the point of almost looking closed all the way. Except then the anger came back, along with a sense of confidence, and he nodded to himself. Suddenly certain. Suddenly normal.

"A perfect example of humanity being cruel, as a whole, together," Ra's remarked, raising his eyebrows calmly. "It surprised me, back then. Now it does not, seeing the much, much, worse ways they torture the planet they were invited on to. But I don't want it to ever surprise you, My Love." He patted her head for the second time, letting every inch of mental strain Sora's death had brung up drift away.

Talia rolled flat on to her back again, only to then throw the blanket over her entire face. "That's… scary," She quietly whimpered underneath, proving herself to, despite all the desensitization, still truly be such a small child. Her back was against the headboard, with her knees shoved up to her chest, very much awake.

"Oh, you're just a little shocked. Next time, it'll come smoothly, and I'll move over this depressing part in a quicker manner. I understand you're young, but this basic story will only benefit you, I promise." Ra's arms made a loose shrugging gesture. "Speaking of which, I'll move on now. This isn't the worst of it, but I'll move fast through that if you're really so sensitive to it. At the end things will get much happier with the excitement. Satisfying, even. So very satisfying." He then let his arms drop down onto his lap, folding his hands together neatly, with the fingers securely intertwined. As he spoke, a smile abruptly took over his mouth. Unlike most smiles, though, his eyes did not squint upwards with joy, but rather stayed eerily emotionless. Angry, even. Talia's head bobbled in a nod from under the covers.

As he explained the torture and imprisonment, Talia still did not relax from her scared pose. A few whimpers even escaped, almost silent but still there. It was only when he reached Huwe's rescue that she calmed down a bit, but even then, it took until right before Runce's death for her to have finally finished gradually shifting back into a lying position.

"...So, the wrongly-done Lazarus Pit burned his ugly flesh off until all that was left was a skeleton," The same eerie smile Ra's had presented before was here again, even stronger in expression. His back had straightened, just as his arms had crossed, both showing pure confidence in his stance.

Talia was actually smiling, too, now. "I bet his corpse wasn't gross," She said. "I bet it was nice and good, just like you've been saying." Ra's' confidence only grew from this sudden agreement.

"Of course it was," Ra's nodded boldly, his chin bouncing high in approval. "I already promised you this would be righteous-feeling. See? Humans deserve all this death. It's a wondrous thing, as a matter of fact, and it's progress to see you addressing it all on your own."

"Maybe," Talia replied, tilting her head. Ra's' eyes squinted for a moment, unsure what to make of the short answer.

Despite it, he went on with his story. All about fighting together with Huwe and his uncle, defeating and slaughtering all the warriors. Talia's smile certainly faded at those parts, but she stayed calm, at least relative to before. She even closed her eyes in an effort to start falling asleep, and although her happiness had pretty much all gone away, she was content enough. Or, at the very least, apathetic.

Until Ra's reached the part where the group came back to the big city, that was. Until Ra's stated bloody descriptions of every single human being's death that lived there. Talia's head darted up from the pillow, pouting yet again. Pouting more than the part where Sora died, even. Her stubby, frail arms wrapped around herself, and her eyebrows tilted downwards with a burst of anger in her gaze. Ra's' eyes widened at the sudden reaction, expecting if anything, her to react the same as with Runce's death. He sighed.

"Why would you kill those people?" Talia exclaimed, "That's so random! They didn't kill Sora, Runce did, and you already dealt with him. Why– why would you–?" The words stumbled out of her frowning mouth in a frantic load of concern. She bounced up and down on her mattress, but not with excitement this time. Anxious was the only way she could describe the movements now.

"Do you really believe simple murder to be enough when they murdered my true love and tortured me almost to death?" Ra's questioned, his voice getting louder with a hint of frustration. "Stay calm, Talia. It was all in my grand plan to take away their power, and even erase what they had used their power for in the past. It was the ultimate revenge, truthfully. It should be satisfying, if you consider it on a deeper level."

"But–" Talia doubted, "But those people didn't do anything! How would that help? I don't get it." Her voice squeaked again as she got more nervous.

"It's not about the individuals," Ra's explained. He blinked slowly, as his voice gradually faded into a single tone. "It is about the full picture. It's about what all this will result in, and that was revenge in this situation. It's the same with my world-domination plans. You focus too much on the human corpses in it… when you could look at the bloodless animals saved." A soft smile covered his face.

"But–" Talia doubted for the second time, "But that doesn't make… But those people…. But what if you or me were one of them? They weren't any worse than us. We could've died. That's… That's scary, too!" She whined.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Talia. I achieved my means and there's no going back so we'll just have to assume it was worth it." Ra's tightened in his arm-crossing, turning from confident to angry and stern. "Although, well.. I will admit I didn't feel too good after it. I admit Sora was still gone in my heart, and I admit my actions did nothing to save me from that. But I also happened to become sick right then, so for all I know, it was just an effect from that. An arbitrary mix of emotions from a burst of weakness." Ra's shrugged it off.

"Those people probably felt really scared," Talia stated. Some small wrinkles puffed in her primarily-smooth forehead at the concern. "Those feelings they felt when you were killing them probably weren't very… very… arbi– arbitr…." Her mouth made a funny face as she attempted to repeat Ra's' complex wording.

A much louder sigh poured from Ra's' lungs, "Ah, Children. Always so naive. Always so sensitive to these matters." He didn't even bother to argue with her. Instead, Ra's rolled his neck around, glancing to the floor with a sense of subtle anger at the child.

Silence took over the air for a good minute or so. Talia was still sitting straight up in her bed, looking directly at her father unpleasantly. Meanwhile, Ra's did not return the looks, as he still rolled his neck around to glance at the most spontaneous things around the room. He ignored her out of his annoyance. After another second, Talia just wiped her eyes of any welled-up tears and plopped back down sadly. Ra's took this as a cue to continue with his story.

The last few details were mostly adding on to the part that Talia didn't like, so she made sure to position herself to be as far away from Ra's as possible. A puffed up piece of blanket blocked him away from her. From where she couldn't see her, Talia's eyes were angry in expression. But also sad… quite sad.

"That's how I became who I am today," Ra's finished. Talia breathed a sigh of relief at the end, exhaling out quite audibly. Ra's didn't respond, though, but simply pushed the blanket wall down and gently patted her back. "Are you still awake under there, my love?" He smiled at her.

"Yes…" Talia replied, slowly beginning to turn around to face him. Her face still displayed visible distress.

"Then how do you feel about the story?" Ra's asked. A single eyebrow rose in genuine intrigue. He leaned in, making eye contact from only a foot away. Talia rocked her head back and forth, swishing her mouth about uncertainly. Ra's' eyebrow rose again. "What did you take from it?"

"Well… I liked the beginning part," She mumbled. Her mood quickly changed, letting a small smile take over her. That smile only grew as she spoke once more. "I liked hearing about when you thought killing was bad… And I liked hearing about Sora and how you loved her. I liked hearing about the part where you thought corpses were gross."

Ra's' eyebrows quickly furrowed in concern and barely-hidden disappointment, "Because you learned from it, I assume? Because it was interesting to learn how such actions backfired?" He lifted his chin upwards slightly. Under his breath, his mouth quietly muttered out a whisper. "That's not a part you're meant to like."

"Probably," Talia shrugged, biting down on one side of her lip innocently. "Or maybe it was just interesting to learn about your past in general. Your old opinions and stuff." She glanced downwards, narrowly avoiding Ra's' eye contact. Her blanket was in a twisted mess over her now, and she nonchalantly began to fix it. Ra's waited to answer.

"I… guess that makes sense," Ra's agreed, but his judgemental side-glance proved otherwise. For around half a minute this time, Ra's and Talia stayed silent. Talia spent the entire time kicking around her bed sheets until they worked well, not even bothering to give a look back at her father. Ra's calmly sucked his lips in thoughtfully. "Any other thoughts you acquired about it?" It took a moment of confusion on Talia's face before she understood her father's formal word choice this time, but she eventually got it.

"Well," She began, "I liked it when you killed Runce,"

Ra's went back to peacefully smiling, "Any specific reason for that? Because he deserved it, I assume? Because humans deserve it? Because Sora deserved all the vengeance in the world for the unjust he put her through?" He stuck his chin even further outwards towards Talia as he encouraged her forward, subtly anticipating a good response.

"Yes," Talia said. She turned from her blankets to her pillows, throwing one up in the air enthusiastically to puff it up. Apparently, she'd done it harder than she realized, as it nearly flew right on to the floor, if it hadn't been for her father catching and handing it back to her. She positioned the pillow down and then got comfortable on top of it. But right as she rolled herself down on to it, a couple quiet sentences seeped out of her mouth. "But honestly, I also just… liked it when you killed someone to help her. When you killed out of love, instead of… you know. I don't see you do that much anymore."

Ra's' brow scrunched up in confusion, "On the contrary, that's certainly not something I quit after that. I've killed for my loved ones plenty of times. Loved ones of all kinds, even, as sometimes even people as far as allies will get a simple vengeance if they're murdered offensively enough." Not even looking down to do it, he grabbed Talia's blanket and gently wrapped it over her arms to tuck her in.

"But that's just if it offends you, isn't it?" Talia clarified, pushing herself down even deeper into the sheets to get fully cozy. "I meant when you kill that person because they're bad. Simply because they hurt the person, and you love them. When you explained it, it sounded like that's what happened with Runce."

"Of course it was," Ra's nodded. He was now standing up from his seat, stretching his legs out as he walked careless circles around his chair. "He brought harm to me as well, but at that moment, of course I had Sora on my mind. It was for her, not myself, I promise you. But even those kinds I haven't stopped doing. Just consider our entire plans to save the earth with the cutting down of the human population." He broke out from the circle to make his way to a blank wall in Talia's bedroom.

On the wall, he traced out a circle with his fingers. His head leaned against the wall as well, gazing directly out at the large circle he was mentally marking out. It was no more than a gesture, of course, but he repeated the gesture several times, as if it could somehow drill his points into Talia's head even deeper through it. Meanwhile, Talia's head had perked up to watch Ra's' movements, messing up her blankets slightly again.

"We're protecting the Earth, Talia," Ra's verbally established, making a tap on the wall with the same tracing finger. He briefly glanced back at her to make sure she was watching. "We're protecting it because we love it, and because we cherish it more than the rest. Is that not out of love?... Besides, consider the animals this organization has saved. Every single one lies so close to my heart, and I wish to get rid of humans to make room for more. Is that not out of love?" He pressed his palm against the wall, pushing against it to twirl himself around until his back was pushed against it. His arms pulled in, folding over one another behind his back.

Talia nodded, but while moving her head in a way that almost also made her shake her head, too. Her eyes began to fall closed, looking at Ra's and showing brief confusion while also being quite obviously much too tired to fully react.

Ra's walked back over to her, pushing her straight back down onto her back and tucking her in yet again. She didn't resist at all, just sitting there as the sleepiness took over. Ra's took a deep breath, letting his expression soften at the sight of Talia fall asleep. He patted her small, child-sized head.

Talia's imagination took over from this point. At first, her father's last words about murder and love crept into her mind, but the word 'love' stuck. It was such a beautiful word. In the League of Assassins, hardly anyone spoke about it, or used it to its full potential. So, Talia thought of love without murder, and the words of death taking away love, quoted from Ra's so long ago, filled her head. It was such an intriguing idea. It was an idea that for once, she wanted to believe in.

Eventually, her mind mashed all her scattered sleepy thoughts into a dreamland world standing in front of her. It was a beautiful world, with bright, shining, affection that she held onto and dreamt off all night long. It was a more beautiful world than she was surrounded by. There was no blood. No blood at all. Talia had already seen so much blood, even at 4 years old, that it was a simple relief to not see that disgusting death for a moment.

Ra's would not have liked her enjoying this dream. He wouldn't have enjoyed this dream. He would've called it naive. He would've called it too good, to the point of fraud. But in that moment, it didn't matter. Because that story had opened up a concept in her that she liked a lot– her father, despite his current bloodlust and obsessions with ends over means, was not always murderous.

As she was drifting out of consciousness, though, her ears had picked up one last goodnight from Ra's.

"You, yourself, are very much included in the loved ones I'd kill for, Daughter," He had reminded her, "And for you, I would kill a thousand times over. No one is allowed to hurt you, Talia, I'll make sure of it."

Even in her sleep, Talia had made a small nod back to him. Ra's leaned over, kissing the top of her head lightly. A few pit-patters echoed on the floors as he made his way to the light switch. Ra's flicked it off and took one last look at Talia, grinning.

"Not even a single punch,"

Meanwhile Talia, half-asleep but blissful, had believed those words with all of her heart.

------------------------------

Ending notes:

Reblogs, replies/comments, or even just likes are greatly appreciated <3

Also, I know some people are gonna be thinking "Ra's is acting way too nice" but just be patient because there's a point to it, and besides, back in his early years, Ra's WAS supposed to love Talia, and he did show his affection from time to time, so it might just be you reading too many modern comics where Ra's is worse than he used to be that's making you think it's more OOC than it is.

[baticorngirl]

Hello, my dear followers! I received my @badthingshappenbingo card not too long ago, and I'd like to ask you (and anyone else who may be viewing my blog) to help me decide what to do for each prompt!

This post will be updated as I do each prompt. Yellow unicorn horn will indicate that I've received an ask for that prompt, and pink will indicate that I have completed my fic for that prompt. Please only send me asks for prompts that are completely uncovered.

On top of this, I am doing the bingo for the Teen Titans Cartoon, Batfam, and DC Comics fandoms only. Anything else will not be allowed.

Now, you may be wondering- what information should you specify in your ask?

Here's a list of things you can specify, on top of the required prompt specification. Please include at least one of the following:

1. Victim Character(s): Basically just whoever the bad thing is hurting. If I haven't already written (or done a different kind of fanwork) for them before, there's definitely a chance I don't know enough about them to do the prompt. If so, I'll let you know. But to avoid this, I recommend trying to do characters from Batman Comics or the Teen Titans cartoon, since that's more my area of knowledge. That being said, you're allowed to ask for literally any DC character as long as you're okay with it being rejected.

2. Relationship(s) of Comfort: This is the relationship of the victim character and whoever is helping/comforting them. If #1 is not mentioned, they will be chosen out of the characters inside the ship. The relationships can be platonic, romantic, familial, whatever. As a solid rule, though, I will not be writing for any inc*stual, p*dophillic or otherwise inheriently abusive ships (No hate to the shippers of course, this a personal preference), at least for this category. The prosecutor and victim having an abusive relationship of some kind is very different, of course.

3. Culprit/Prosecutor Character(s): This is basically just whoever is causing the bad thing. In some situations, such as sneezing, this may not be an option at all. But in the situations where it can be specified, the same rule as for the victim applies- I have every right to reject a request due to a lack of knowledge about the character. That being said, I am going to be much more open with this one since it's easier to write bad guys you don't know too much about than a whumpee.

4. AU: Coffee shop AU, Highschool AU, you know the stuff... just please don't get carried away with how specific your AU is, especially if more than one other thing on this list is already being specified. I still need some creative freedom!

Now that's over with, please send some asks! I'd really appreciate it so much if you could just quickly throw a prompt and character or something in there!

And if you need some suggestions, I also have some extra examples and whanot under the cut. Not necessary to read, but can be helpful.

Need Examples of characters? Here are some that I've already written plenty for and/or want to write for more:

-Damian Wayne/Robin

-Talia Al Ghul

-Bruce Wayne/Batman

-Dick Grayson/Nightwing/Robin

-Starfire/Koriand'r*

-Raven*

-Beast boy/Garfield Logan*

-Terra/Tara Markov*

-Cyborg/Victor Stone*

-Alfred Pennyworth

-Duke Thomas (Just finished reading Batman & The Signal recently, so I'm still in a mood)**

-Jason Todd/Robin/Red Hood

As for more villainous culprit type characters, here's some examples:

-Ra's Al Ghul

-Slade Wilson/Deathstroke*

-Joker**

-Trigon***

Romantic Ship Examples:

-Brutalia

-Brutalina**

-Talina**

-Robstar*

-BBTerra***

-Ra's Al Ghul/Sora**

-Raestar***

-RobX***

-Slade Wilson/Trigon (Both the Cartoon version and the Tiny Titans version)***

-DamiJon**

-Cyborg/Sarasim***

Platonic Relationship Examples:

-Dick Grayson & Barbara Gordon**

-Beast Boy & Raven*

Familial Relationship Examples:

-Talia & Damian (or pretty much any of her kids)

-Evelyn Grayce & Talia Al Ghul**

-Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson

-Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

-Bruce Wayne & any of his other kids

-Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson

AU Examples:

-Roleswap AU

-No Capes AU

-Crime Drama AU

*Character/ships who I've mostly just written (or simply know more) for the cartoon versions of. Some of them have similar enough personalities to the comics that it won't be a big deal, while others (like Terra and Starfire) may be very visibly different. If you need it to be the comic version, please specify that, although for some characters, I may have to reject it because of not knowing enough about their comic versions.

**Characters/Ships which I have not actually written for (or at least posted fic) of. They are still on this list because I know plenty about the character/ship and I want to write with it and/or I have written things with them that I have abandoned/neglected to post. Plenty of these I may have also done fanart for, but not fic yet.

***Both of the Above

Obviously, though, those are nowhere near the full extent of your options. They are simply ideas to get your brain going, but if you've thought of a different character/relationship you want, feel free to ask for it! Just as I've already said before, all you need to keep in mind is that I'm allowed to say no if it's not an area I know about.

Just for a little extra reference, though, here's some full examples of how you can format your ask:

-Working through the Cold with Bruce, please?

-Can you do sneezing with brutalina?

-For the paralyzed by fear prompt- What about Raven is paralyzed by fear, and Starfire comforts her?

-Hate plague with the Teen Titans, caused by Slade, please?

-Reluctant Caretaker + Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson?

-For BTHB, can you please do "trying not to cry" with Cyborg if you have to time?

I hope some of these examples were helpful! Now, if you've came up with something, please go over to my ask box and send it to me!

[baticorngirl]

Title: "And They All Lived Happily Ever After" (Dedicated to@mac-attack5 so she'll cry while reading, details in 1st A/N)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Batman/DC Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence Relationship(s): Ra's al Ghul & Talia al Ghul, Talia al Ghul & Melisande, (Heavily Mentioned) Ra's al Ghul/Sora, Characters: Ra's al Ghul, Talia al Ghul, Melisande (Talia's mother),

Summary: When she was small, Talia al Ghul's favorite bedtime story used to be her father's own origin story. It had excitement, twists, revenge, and a moral that Ra's urged her to follow constantly, but that was not the reason she liked it. She liked it because of the beginning. The part where her father was kind, anti-murder, anti-death, and pro-humanity. Perhaps it was a guilty pleasure of hers, to imagine that time. Her father would be very upset to think of her enjoying these thoughts, she knew. Perhaps rightfully. Perhaps she needed to learn better with maturity, or needed to stop being so naive.

Or perhaps, those thoughts were the most beautiful thing she had.

Chapter 3 of 6

<Click here to read it on Ao3 instead>

<Click here to read Chapter 1>

<Click here to read Chapter 2>

<Click here to read Chapter 4>

<Click here to read Chapter 5>

---------------------------------------------------

Feeling as if a light bulb had pulled from her head, Talia got an idea.

At this point, it had been nearly a year since the punch had occurred, and Talia didn't think about it much anymore. Perhaps it came up from time to time, haunting her in terrifying but faded memories, but she was over it. As over it as she was going to get, at least. It still bothered her, deep inside. She'd be fine, though– fine enough.

What she thought about much more, however, was the story. It wasn't new, of course, for it to pop into her head from time to time, but it hadn't slowed down in the slightest. She could see his previous self in her father, occasionally, and it gave her a subtle sense of joy. Or simple comfort, as the massive amount of death, blood, and heinous crimes she watched her father commit continued to gradually increase. So different from the old physician was he, even as she saw those quiet similarities. He was nearing the opposite at this point…. Not quite, but he certainly wasn't making progress in the better direction.

Ever since his last resurrection, the amount of nights Ra's told her bedtime stories was cut in half. It had already lessened, of course, but now it wasn't him being tired, or mere forgetful, as sometimes Talia went out of her way to ask, only to have this behavior frowned upon– severely. He would get annoyed by even the start to the question, making exaggerations to how many much more important tasks he had, and if she dared to say another word on it, that annoyance would quickly transform into anger. That anger would transform into yelling.

To him, It wasn't even just an inconvenience anymore, as it eventually twisted into shameful words. She wasn't even 7 yet, and in fact, she had several months until it. But that didn't stop him from bringing up her lack of age-related maturity. Especially if his backstory, specifically, came up.

"You're not an infant anymore. Nor a toddler," He would declare, with his body crossed into a tense, infuriated position. Talia would stare straight at the ground, hunched over disappointedly. "You can sleep without it. I know you can, therefore this entire conversation is pointless. If you can sleep without it, there's no reason I should be bothered to tell you any children's story! If you're so obsessed with that story specifically, though, do not fear, for I'm sure you'll be taught a story with the same moral –don't act childish and naive– by looking at yourself. Act your age, Young Lady!"

Then, almost every single time, he would loudly stomp out, slamming the door behind him as Talia frowned behind him.

That was why, before she got the idea, it had been a while since she'd last heard his origin story. Hence, that was also why she needed to hear it another time before she enacted the idea– meaning she had to get through to her father, no matter how much yelling, insults, or days it took to get there.

For, her idea was to write a story.

Not just any story. Not even really her own story, but her own version of a story. Like the way, gradually, classic fairytales and folklore evolved from generation to generation. Each family member finding their own way to describe it to their children, who then described it differently, too. As a matter of fact, she supposed since Ra's was her parent, it was almost the exact same thing. Except it wasn't a mistake, or a mistranslation, or different words; it was an important, changing decision in the story. It was such a big change she couldn't tell it to her children, or their children, as it would be blunt misinformation– especially since it was based on a true tale.

Her recurring dream, in itself, was what she wished to write. She couldn't change history, she knew, but she could remember her wishes in her heart. So, to keep them even fresher, Talia wanted to put them into story form, on real physical paper to hold in her hands, as well as her heart. She wanted to sort her fumbled dreams into something real.

Just as her dream depicted, she wanted to give her father a happy ending. She wanted to give herself a happy ending.

But her father just wouldn't get it.

The night after she'd come up with the idea, Talia had immediately gone to her father for a bedtime story. He was currently in the training room, with a sword in hand and sparring gear strapped over his body, but fortunately appeared to be taking a break. He was sitting on a bench, long but shallow, as he rested his back against the wall. He tapped his finger against the sword's handle, aloof.

Talia, on the other hand, was much less active when it came to her clothing. She had already gotten changed into a nightgown, with barefoot and messy hair to match the casual clothing. Yet, she still crept into the training room, opening up the door slowly before she stepped in.

Her father looked up from his sword, surprised, "Talia? You– You should be getting ready for bed right now…. I see you've made some progress, but regardless, if you're done you should be working on actually falling asleep. Not going down here." His eyes narrowed, with one eyebrow raised.

"I… I was just wondering–" Talia stuttered. She fiddled with her hair, twirling it around her finger. Her eyes evaded eye contact,

"Yes?" Ra's replied. He popped up from the bench, beginning to make his way over to Talia. His arms began to cross as soon as he dropped his sword, leaving it on the bench. Ra's stopped only a few feet in front of Talia before he spoke again, this time much crisper in Talia's ear. "What do you want?"

"Uh…. Maybe… perhaps… a bedtime story?"

As soon as the words came out, Talia looked up, smiling hopefully. Her cheeks rose, an uncertain giggle erupting from her mouth. This didn't last long, though. Ra's stared back at her with much less cheer. He frowned, crossing his arms even tighter. A muttered scoff came back her way, draining the color from Talia's face.

"Why do you insist on being a handful?" He rolled his eyes, swiftly spinning on his heel to start making his way back to the bench. He walked at a slow yet consistent pace, until eventually, he bent over and sat right back down. Ra's grabbed the sword, trailing his hand along it gently. "I'm busy, quite clearly. Much too busy to practically cradle you to sleep."

"Please?" Talia followed her father into the room, cupping her hands into a begging gesture. She shook them directly in front of Ra's. "I promise, just this one time and then I won't bother you about it again… at least for the next few months."

Ra's waved his hand in the air, "We both know that's a promise you'll likely break with the way you've been behaving lately." His back was straight and confident, towering off Talia's tiny 6-year-old stature. His eyes laid down on the sword again, almost as if pretending she wasn't here.

"But I'll really–"

"Sure," Ra's rolled his eyes again, but got back up. He quickly walked over to Talia, only to begin actively dragging her out of the room. His teeth pressed against each other aggressively, "Good night, My Dear, and sweet dreams. Now… Go. To. Bed!" He exclaimed through gritted teeth once they made it to the door.

Talia's eyebrows furrowed, passively disappointed. She wrapped one arm around herself, squeezing the opposite arm with a sad spark in her tired eyes. Slowly, and quite obviously insincerely, she nodded at Ra's. He instantly shut the door, letting it make a small swoosh as it hit the frame.

She pleaded again the next day, and the one after, only for the quick rejections to repeat, over and over again. But she did not give in. Despite her father's growing impatience, she had to write that story, and surely, eventually it would work. Once she wore him down, or even simply got lucky. It wasn't as if he'd never willingly given her a story since the last Lazarus Pit use, just only specific days, when he was in his absolute best mood. Surely, he'd reach that if she just kept trying.

But it kept going on and on, with her leaving slightly more discouraged each time… until the 9th day of it, that was.

"I know what you've come here for," Ra's had stated the second she approached him. He was sitting on a couch with a book in hand, holding it up above his face without moving it at all as he addressed her. His finger plucked at a page, pulling it over calmly. "Just go ahead and say what you must."

Talia went ahead and sat down next to him on the couch. She pulled not just her bottom, but her feet, too, onto the cushion, tucking her legs underneath in a kneeling position. She used this extra height to look her father in the eyes, attempting to see around the large book. Ra's gave her a single look, but continued reading regardless.

"As I've already explained, I'd leave you alone after you told me only one bedtime story. I know I'm getting older, but it won't even take that long." Talia reasoned. She glanced away from Ra's, down at her lap, as she bit her lip nervously.

"I know what you've said," Ra's stated apathetically. He shrugged, but still without shaking the book away in the slightest. He crossed his legs, carefully plucking yet another page back. "If you're going to bother me, at least put together a good list of reasons. Persuade me, Talia, don't just give me those puppy eyes."

Talia shifted in position, letting her legs pull out, "Give me a moment, Father."

She sat, with her legs dangling off from the couch, in thought. Her eyes scanned the room, then looked at her lap, only to bounce back on to her father. He didn't look at her at all, simply plucking pages every few seconds peacefully. Talia tilted her head, gulping silently. Her fingers twisted around one another, fidgeting in a restless motion.

Talia sighed, "I do need it to sleep." She stated, watching as one of Ra's' eyebrows rose. He eyed her from above the book, waiting for her to elaborate. She sighed yet again. "I know I don't usually, but right now, I've been having trouble without it."

"Is that really true, or are you going to the level of making pitiful lies to my face to gain your desires?" Ra's' eyes narrowed at her. He slowly let his book lower, finally looking at her directly. Gradually getting lower and lower, the book eventually ended up on his lap, closed and unread.

"Look at these bags under my eyes," Talia frowned, "I haven't slept well in days."

On a technical level, even if Talia was getting a bit desperate, it wasn't a complete lie– The bags were certainly there, and as she pointed at them, Ra's could easily tell. His eyes opened a bit wider, frowning softly. The only difference to the truth was, of course, that it was not a matter of needing a story to sleep, as much as it was a matter of pure excitement. She had been anticipating writing the story for so long now, and as she was falling asleep, her brain spent so long bustling with new ideas that she hardly ended up with any time for true rest. At the same time, though, writing it would get it off her mind. Therefore, with a bedtime story, she could go straight back to her normal schedule. Her father didn't benefit from the specifics anyway.

Ra's took a long time to answer. He looked closer and closer at his daughter's face, so tired and strained, and the thought mildly puzzled him. Then, he abruptly looked away, and slightly downwards, too. Ra's rubbed his chin, considering the situation deeply.

Eventually, he looked back, "You… You need to learn to sleep well without a bedtime story. For the large majority of your life, no one is going to give you that luxury. It's for an infant's pacification, and not much else. Once older, it's a simple life skill to fall asleep in all kinds of conditions, including not having as much as a bed– much less a story." Ra's crossed his arms, staring down sternly. He shook his head pessimistically as he spoke, tensing up at his jaw.

Talia stared straight down at her lap. In pure expectancy, she slowly started to scooch herself off the couch, preparing to return to her room with the same answer as every other time before. But suddenly, behind her, she heard her father speak once more, but much softer this time.

"I suppose I can't let you exhaust yourself to death, though."

Talia twirled around, gazing at her father with bright eyes. A growing grin pressed at her cheeks, eyes wide open with gleeful surprise. She ran over to him, skipping with delight. A high-pitched, toddler-like squeal popped from the tip of her tongue. Ra's let himself smile back at her the tiniest bit, but only for a short second.

He stuck a finger in the air, shaking it pointedly, "...But this is only for tonight. You need to learn these skills properly, so in the future, bedtime stories will occur every 3 months at the absolute most, and that's only if you're on your best behavior the rest of the time. Do you understand?"

Talia immediately nodded, still overfilled with joy from his temporary agreement. Still filled with joy from her little 'idea', truly. She jumped up stairs and down hallways, letting Ra's follow behind as far away as he pleased. Eventually, they arrived. She fell onto the bed, bursting with joy, in the same manner she did every single night when she was 4 years old. Excited. So very excited.

"What story is it that you are in need of?" Ra's asked with a tired sigh. He plopped on to the same exact chair as those years ago, too, but this time with a much more exaggerated fall. "Your favorite, I assume?"

Talia nodded. She pulled the covers over herself, up high to cover as much as possible without tempting suspicion. Her hands fumbled around under it, searching without her eyes. Somewhere, in the corner of her bed, was a notebook and a pencil. (Years back, her father had given her the notebook for academic reasons; Except, fortunately, this one was nowhere near fully used.)

After a moment of searching, Talia found them. She spun the pencil, trailing her hands over it until it was situated correctly, then did the same with her papers. Underneath the covers, she quietly patted the papers down, holding them close to the pencil. Right as she finished this rushed action, Ra's was beginning the story.

Talia quickly pressed the pencil against the notebook, rapidly beginning to write 'Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a physician. A kind physician.'

Ra's had spoken a different thing, of course. Almost identical, but the words 'naive' slipped out of his mouth every time. Talia frowned at the word, though, and 'kind' made her smile. It was true. Perhaps naive was true, too, but it was her story. She didn't even care, and the physician was kind– she was certain of it.

Her father continued, and she continued writing along with it. Talia was getting bored, and tired, so it took no time at all for her to decide to write it completely in her voice and word-choice, instead of exchanging sections. It needed originality, regardless. It was her story. Her fingers still moved swiftly, pressing the pencil gently over the paper as quickly as her hands would take it. But, even with shortcuts in her words, she got overwhelmed quickly.

"Wait," She interrupted. Her fingers stopped in their tracks, finally getting a moment's break. "Can you– Can you go slower? It's hard to understand you when I'm tired." As if on cue, Talia's mouth stretched open in a long yawn.

Ra's' eyebrows rose, "You've heard this story probably almost 100 times considering how much you used to request it. If you seriously can't comprehend its contents after hearing it over and over again, then frankly, I should take you to a doctor for that condition." A gentle frown pressed on his lips as his eyes narrowed, concerned. "I'm not speaking particularly fast, Talia."

"No, no, I can hear fine!" Talia took the one hand that wasn't holding her pencil out from the blanket, raising her palm in front of her head in a defensive gesture. She gulped. "I just need you to slow down a little, okay?" Slowly, she lowered her hand again, resting it back under the covers. Talia crossed her fingers, hoping.

"It would take so much longer then, Talia…." Ra's complained. He rolled his eyes for the third time. "You should be grateful I agreed to this in the first place, not requesting it waste more time than necessary…. On a mathematical level, even a small change in pace multiplied by the entire story's length will add up."

Talia considered this for a moment. She gulped and swallowed a few more times, visibly uncomfortable and unsure. Her eyes bounced from her story –still so short and nowhere near finished– back to her father, who was still frowning at her with a lack of approval. She clinged to the papers protectively, but her father's frown made her pout.

"What if it wasn't for the full story?" Suddenly, her eyes lit up with realization.

"That's an… odd request," Ra's remarked. He tapped his fingers against his lap, thinking quite skeptically. His eyes glanced over to Talia's blanket, with its abnormal puffs around the notebook. Talia gulped another time. Ra's slowly leaned backward, seemingly backing off, though. "What, specifically, were you thinking?"

"Could you go slower for the first half of the story?" Talia suggested, smiling softly. Her smile gradually increased the more she spoke. "Or even slightly less than that, but I just… I want to comprehend the first part well, at least."

Ra's' eyebrows rose even more, curious, but also slightly suspicious. Although he took one more look at Talia's blanket, she had already subtly fixed it so seeing the notebook was impossible. Or, at the very least, it looked mostly natural– the notebook was still under there, pushing the blanket up the tiniest bit. Still, it settled Ra's down. He tapped his fingers against his lap a few more times, but then sighed.

"...Fine,"

Talia smiled even fuller, silently cheering to herself.

Ra's went back to his story, this time at a sufficiently slower, more manageable pace. It still took some rushing on Talia's part to scribble down the words she wanted to write in only the time of his speech, but unlike before, it was certainly possible. Ra's went on and on, with this behavior continuing, until they reached Sora's death.

Talia's hand immediately froze in place. Her eyes widened, just the slightest bit. She bit her lip.

It was her story. In her story, nothing destroyed the beauty of the past. In her story, Sora didn't die, and her father kept his sanity –and most importantly, his kindness– safe in his heart. She pulled her pencil right off the paper, as if mentally throwing the concept of such a catastrophe away. With her other hand, she even closed the notebook fully, slamming the cover down. But she hesitated to put away the pencil, as well, holding it on it for a few moments.

Talia slowly, gradually opened the notebook back up. In it, her hand gently began to trace letters out, until she'd formed a single sentence.

'Sora was safe.'

It was such a dumb line. It had no context, no reasoning– not to mention undeniably bland writing. It was pointless. But, Talia could technically attempt to give it context, at least once her father was finished and she was left alone to do what she pleased. All she knew was that she had to make it work, to keep it written there. All she knew was that her hand wouldn't let her flip the pencil around and erase it, even if she wanted to.

All she knew was that this line was making her smile.

Now, Talia easily put the notebook a few inches away and paused her writing. Ra's went on with the bedtime story, of course, but Talia wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention anymore. She flopped herself flat on to her bed, resting. Her eyes were shut, letting her yawn drowsily.

After 10 minutes, Ra's came to a pause in his story. He wasn't quite done yet, but nearing it, as he'd just finished the murder of everyone on the mountain. Regardless, he'd noticed how Talia didn't stir in the slightest. Her eyes shut so tight, and her body all snuggled up under the blanket, she appeared completely knocked out. Ra's took a breath, gazing down at the scene.

"Good night," He said. He swiftly pushed himself up from his seat, smiling in the tiniest, almost unnoticeable way. Ra's quickly walked out, gently swinging the door shut behind himself. Even from her cuddled up position, Talia heard her father's firm footsteps trodding off into the distance.

Truly in full consciousness, she shot upwards, grabbing the notebook in the same motion. A small smile rested on her face.

First, she spent a couple minutes editing her pre-existing story. It had a ton of mistakes, when it came to grammar, spelling, or in some cases, both, due to her frantically fast writing. Immediately recognizing mistake after mistake, Talia smudged her eraser over each one, leaving faded graphite messy at the edges. By the time she was done, not only smudges were cluttering her writing, but also tons upon tons of tiny eraser bits, sprinkled over the papers.

Talia's eyebrows lowered, eyeing the bits with frustration. With a small frown, she began to clean the bits off, flinging the papers around wildly and brushing her hand against them with rapid motion…. Only for her to realize she'd missed another mistake, and have to do more messy smudging, causing the whole process to repeat. Gradually, the initially small frown had turned into a full-on scowl of frustration.

Eventually, though, she had the whole thing edited and cleaned up as well as possible.

She quickly flipped to the most recent page, reading her single line to herself. Instantly, her frown disappeared, replaced with the same confidence smile she'd shown when first writing it. For no particular reason, Talia found herself repeating the words to herself over and over again, continuing to smile.

'Sora was safe.'

But why, exactly, would Sora be safe?

Talia knew, in real life, Sora was dead. She'd died a brutal death, and she'd died quite young, but Runce hadn't cared, and no one had been able to stop him. Talia knew that, with those real-life occurrences in consideration, her story would forever be ridiculous, no matter how much she treasured it. Talia knew that Sora had no reason to be safe, in that instant, because in reality– she had been about to die.

Perhaps she could say Runce snapped out of it. Perhaps she could make Runce that slightest bit kinder, and understand that the murdering of an innocent woman was horrid. It wasn't as if it would be realistic either way, but something about that felt off. Considering all the extents and moral lines Runce crossed later on, it was more than unrealistic– it was a laughable idea, to have that man be anything but awful.

Therefore, Talia continued brainstorming.

Next, she thought of her father saving Sora. Ra's hadn't been strong enough, in reality, but it was certainly something easy to change in her story. If he'd only been able to restrain Runce, then Sora would be, as the line stated, safe. Yet, it seemed all too unrealistic, too, as at this point, her father was not obsessed with his own strength and power– not the way he was now. He thought of knowledge and grace over that, and although he was not weak by any standards, being able to defeat Runce right after the Lazarus Pit's strength enhancements set in would take in an enormous amount of strength, especially without assistance.

The sultan's physician was not a body-builder, but a reader. It was still a much better idea than Runce's sudden reformation, but regardless, it was undoubtedly wrong. It seemed much more right that her father died protecting Sora than him succeeding in such.

Talia continued brainstorming.

The next thought that came into her head was to actually rewind a bit. She could have the entire scene of Sora's death not take place, starting with the Lazarus Pit's creation and all her father's promises of it happening. If Ra's hadn't tried to save Runce's life in the first place, then Sora would not have died. If her father had been less naive, then Sora would still be alive. If her father had only been less kind to Runce.

But this thought suddenly made her angry.

She gritted her teeth, harshly. She loved who her father used to be, naive or not. She wanted that man as her father, not the man who would give up a learning opportunity simply because an evil person might also benefit from it. It didn't matter that Sora was the price of that decision, along with his entire sanity, and that Runce blatantly would've deserved it, he wouldn't ever choose something else. Not in real life, but not in her story, either.

She slammed the pencil down at even the thought of changing who her father used to be. If he wouldn't deem every human worthy of life at all costs, what else might change? The concept made her shiver to the bone. No, she would not change his decision there, even if it meant not writing the story as a whole. Her father shall be granted the happy ending, not a 'less naive' stranger she happened to refer to by the same name.

So, even then, Talia continued brainstorming.

Her head drooped over, letting her back slunch. She stared at the nearly-empty page, narrowing her eyes in frustration. For a solid five minutes, no more ideas would pop into her head. It was feeling more and more impossible to complete this story, as nothing would ever make sense– it was a tragedy, and it wouldn't ever be anything but.

Sora, as much as she hated to admit it, was certainly not safe.

Talia flopped back on to her back, throwing the notebook out of her hands. She felt the soft mattress rubbing on her back with whatever amount of comfort it could bring. Her eyes felt almost paralyzed, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Talia laid with her legs and arms flailed outwards as if she were a starfish, floating around aimlessly without a single thought in her brain.

Except the thoughts of disappointment, and the thoughts of rage. A happy ending should be easy to get with some brief changes, and doom should not be inevitable. Hope, no matter how small the chance, should be there. She'd kept hope of the dream so long, for years, and this realization was not going to pull it out of her. But it made it feel so much less vivid, like it was miles away from reach as she grew older and thought it all out more thoroughly.

As she stared upwards, her body gently shifted in position. Talia pulled her arms in, laying them behind her head wistfully. They shifted around under there, pushing her head up further, until they suddenly felt something under her hair. It was hardly noticeable, but from memories, Talia knew what it was she was feeling.

Still existing from the punch incident, Talia had a large scar on her scalp.

This triggered an even stronger burst of anger in her eyes. Her breath became quicker, coming out in abrupt pumps instead of long puffs. That 'incident' shouldn't have happened. But it did happen, and based on her current struggle, it had no way not to. The thought of that felt physically heavy on her head.

Thoughts came stumbling out of her brain in a disordered formulation; Sora, Ra's, time, luck, decisions, tragedies… but most of all, the Lazarus Pit. She wouldn't have the scar if it wasn't for its existence, and its terrible side effects. The more she thought about it, her father would even be a better person if it weren't for it, as its subtly lasting mental effects never helped with his rage and lack of kindness. Every thought made her teeth rub against each other harder.

With abrupt raging force, Talia threw herself up from her pillow and jumped out of bed. She stuck her hand in the air, curling it into a fist with infuriation. Her feet seemed to stomp even faster than her body, carrying her closer to the door.

Despite it being the middle of the night, and the action being incredibly attention-catching, Talia felt the undying urge to march over to the Lazarus Pit and scream at it as loud as she could.

Of course, she stopped herself at the door, recognizing her stupidity, but it didn't stop her from wishing immensely that she could. In fact, she wished so hard that aggravated tears began to push at the corners of her eyes. Although Runce had started the whole corruption of her father's mind, he had gotten what he deserved for it, and the Lazarus Pit certainly hadn't. Her father still used it, and it was still succeeding in twisting everything worse by the second….

In the middle of that raging thought, though, Talia made a connection.

Runce, in the first place, would not have killed Sora without the Lazarus Pit to save him.

It seemed so obvious, now that she'd thought of it, but before, it seemed like the only thing to stop the Lazarus Pit was her father deciding who to test it on. Yet, Talia now realized that she did not need that. Not if the pit, itself, did not work. That way, Runce would stay dead, and no one else would be twisted in their very nature.

Instead of marching to the Lazarus pit, Talia marched back to her bed, sitting right down next to the notebook. She picked it back up, returning to her writing immediately. Her body leaned over the papers as her hand swung back and forth, pressing arrays of letters down as fast as she could. Her eyes went back to normal, and her breathing gradually began to calm down.

'Unfortunately, the Lazarus Pit didn't work. Runce died and although left his father sad, Sora was happy that he left her alone now.'

Happy. Sora was happy, therefore Ra's was likely happy.

Sora was safe.

The expression covering Talia's face transformed quickly, now reaching not just a lack of a snarl, but rather, a small smile. She had succeeded, even if it was simply a story. Her happy ending was real, and it was vivid again in her mind. The smile only grew by the second, covering her entire face with pure joy.

She quickly went back to work, writing the rest of the story with her rapid hands. Talia described a new kind of Lazarus device, but this time, insanity wasn't any kind of side effect, and only Sora and Ra's used it. They only grew more loving towards each other, instead of drifting further and further into no love at all like it sometimes appeared the Lazarus Pit could cause.

'Eventually, the couple had a child.'

… Or adopted a child, Talia corrected herself. It seemed more authentic that way, and she constantly longed for the vivid kind of story, even if it meant changing how, exactly, Ra's came to be her father. It didn't make much of a difference either way, she supposed.

Talia moved on from that line quickly, though, as she spoke of the bedtime stories that this child got every single night, with constant affection and love. But even more than that, she spoke of how the child was taught their morals– be kind, and do not murder the innocent, along with the child being free to do whatever they wanted with their own life.

At this point, Talia's smile had transformed into a big grin, filled with pure confidence and excitement. She was practically bouncing up and down on her bed, overjoyed and hyper. She threw her dark hair behind her, letting nothing block her sight of the story which was so quickly unfolding before her eyes. Her legs kicked in the air below her, as if kicking her forward in her writing.

In no time, she was finished. Talia shut her eyes for a moment, still smiling, before she joyfully wrote down the final line.

'And they all lived happily ever after.'

"Happily ever after," Talia repeated to herself, this time whispering it fully out loud. She was nodding as she spoke, cementing the words in her mind. Talia quickly ripped the story's pages out from the notebook, only to clip them back together with a paperclip. The stack felt thick between her fingers, yet thin at the same time. So simple, yet so beautiful.

"Happily. Ever. After." Talia whispered the words a second time to herself. She could still feel the previous tears itching at her cheeks, and she let them drip out, running down her cheeks quietly.

But, as they trailed around her wide smile, she quickly found they were not tears of rage like she'd felt originally; But of joy.

Talia hugged the story, letting a few more tears drip over her face. Her eyes were now squeezed shut, letting all the emotions of joy and accomplishment mix with her overpowering emotional longing take over. If only she could change history, and if only she could change her father back, she would do it without a second thought.

A single tear reached the top paper, leaving a dark, damp splotch on it.

Hardly noticing, Talia dropped down onto her bed, still clutching the story closely to her chest. After a moment, though, she pulled herself back up, gently letting go of the story. It felt so precious in her hands, like a billion-dollar ring that she couldn't lose on her life. Pulling out a drawer, Talia was careful as she set down the story and slowly closed to drawer back up to hide it. To protect it.

That night, with the story fresh in her memory, Talia slept better than she had in years.

[baticorngirl]

My brain is so overfilled with creative juices I can't sit down and write. By talos this can't be happening

[baticorngirl]

🌙📊 for the ask game!

Thanks for the ask!

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

I don't have a huge preference or anything, but I usually end up doing it in the evening or even full-on night. It just feels like by then I've had enough awake-time to get into a writing mindset. But honestly, if I start the day off right, mornings and early afternoons can work just as well.

📊 Current number of WIPs

Exactly 10. But it should also be noted that I'm including unposted abandoned ones in this count, so active ones are a substantially lower amount. Oh, and obviously, this is just my fanfic WIP count. I have plenty of fanart ones, too.

Ask me Fanfic Writer Questions!