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theunquenchablethirst · 4 years

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Joyride (Jerome X Reader)

Smut, NSFW, 18+, porn without plot, honestly just hot, nasty filth

Do not read unless you are a deviant!

Reader is walking home down a street she knows just like the back of her hand, but today there's an unfamiliar car parked up. Paying it no mind she continues past it, but soon discovers today is not going to be any regular day when a sinister voice calls to her from the mysterious car behind her.

Vaginal fingering, blowjobs, rough sex, semi-public sex, car sex, bondage, chocking, spanking, dom/sub undertones, dub-con, strong language, murder, kidnap

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Masterlist

I walked that street nearly every day, to and from Gotham High. I had for years. This would be my last year as I was 18 and about to graduate.

Everything seemed as normal as ever. The pretzel cart, the lady that walked her little dog, the kids playing jump rope. A fairly quiet street. I didn't know it then, but that day would be anything, but normal.

I was approaching the end of the street where I would cross the road. There was a car parked up I hadn't seen before. Big, black with tinted windows. I didn't pay it much attention and wasn't hesitant to carry on my walk past it. I reached the end of the street and stood waiting for the traffic to quiet so I could cross over, then behind me I heard the familiar sound of a car window winding down.

"Hey, princess." A sinister voice called.

I turned to look and peering out of the black car window was him. The most dangerous, most wanted man in Gotham city. Jerome Valeska.

I'd only seen him on the news and in papers before, but even then, he had scared me. He'd brought the city to its knees and left a trail of bodies and madness wherever he went. And now he was right in front of me.

"Can I give you a ride?" He asked with his signature smile plastered on his scarred face, voice dripping with menace.

I froze still. I wanted to run as fast as I could, but his stare glued me to my spot.

"Come on, doll. I'll be nice."

I took a step back, weighing the risk of making a run for it. He sucked his teeth and looked down for something.

"I'd offer you candy, but uh..." He pulled a gun up to the window and pointed it at me.

"... Something tells me I won't need to." His smile somehow grew bigger as he locked his eyes on mine.

My heart was beating so loud I thought the whole city would be able to hear it. I had no choice. Knees weak, I nervously walked around to the passenger side door and opened it. I sat in the seat next to him, but pressed myself as close to the window as I could. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, even if it was only by a few inches.

"Ah, safety first. Seatbelt." He said dropping his smile and cocking his head.

Not caring weather or not he was joking, I pulled down the belt and buckled myself in. I did not want to make him angry. He grinned eerily and panic rose in my chest as his eyes burned holes in me.

He reached a gloved hand out to my face. I flinched as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear and stroked his knuckles down my jaw line and neck. His hand moved lower still down my arm, only stopping when he got to my shaking hand. I was grasping my bag so tightly my knuckles had turned white. He tugged at it a few times wanting me to let go. I released the bag and he pulled it off my lap and into his.

"Let's see what we got here."

He started to rummage through my possessions pulling each one out, mostly dubbing them boring and dumping them out of the window.

"Pain killers, boring. Pencil case, extra boring. Ooh, Jolly Ranchers! Don't mind if I do!"

He popped a sweet in his mouth, threw the rest over his shoulder into the back seat and got back to snooping.

"Keys, boring. Oh! A diary! I'll save that for later! A can of mace...."

He paused then let out a loud cackle as he held the mace.

"Oh, princess! Bet you wish you'd switched this out for a gun right about now!" He continued to giggle as he dived a hand back in.

"Aha! Phone!" He dropped my bag back in my lap and opened up my flip phone.

"You won't be needing this." He smirked and snapped it, letting the two halves fall and disappear under the driver's seat. Dread began to settle in as it dawned upon me that I now had no way to call for help and my mace was lying in the street. Not that it would've been much use against him anyway.

"Ok! Let's get this party started!" His giggled as he turned the key in the ignition. He turned towards me and revved the engine.

"Vroom, vroom." He mocked.

I sat there clutching my bag, waiting for the car to start moving. He fiddled with the gear stick and then slammed his foot down on the pedal as if there was a deadly bug that needed to be squashed. The tyres screeched like they were taking a layer of tarmac with them and he took off like a boy racer.

I let out a scream as the sudden, fast pace sent a shockwave right through me. I sent my hands searching for something, anything to hold on to. There was a turn coming up, but I noticed it too late and I was flung into the side of the door like a ragdoll. All the time the loudest noise in my ear was maniacal laughter coming from Jerome in driver's seat. He was driving like he stole it, but then again, it was entirely possible he did.

"More?" He looked at me with a mischievously.

I shook my head, breathlessly, praying to any god that was listening that he actually cared about my answer.

"I think more." He sharply turned into an empty car park and spun around and around and around. I was pressed right up against him as I clung to the bottom of my seat. He laughed and banged his hand on the wheel, continuing to spin us around.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" I screamed forgetting myself.

"Oh, I love 'em with fire!" He laughed again.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped. I jolted forwards like a crash dummy so hard I thought I would hit the windshield. He'd been right about the seatbelt. I stared straight ahead and tried to catch my breath, when I heard angry shouting. An employee of the restaurant that owned the car park was making his way over to us with a red face.

Jerome stuck his head out of the window.

"What's that, pal?"

I heard more shouting.

"Ok." Jerome reached for the gun and shot the employee straight in the head. I gasped at the sound and he fell down like a sack of bricks.

"Problem solved." Jerome grinned and pocketed the gun.

I felt my stomach turn. I'd just seen a murder right in front of me. That poor man. Jerome started the car again and left the car park, where he'd left a dead body and certainly tyre tracks.

"Some fun, eh kid?" He smiled at me. I couldn't find any words to reply. He sighed.

"I hate awkward silences." He reached down and turned on the radio. He flicked through a few channels until he found one playing music he seemed to like. An old rock station.

"Now this is better!" He looked at me with a satisfied smile, but dropped it when I still didn't reply.

"How do I get you to talk? Do I gotta drop a quarter in ya?" He turned another corner onto a straight, quiet road.

"I know." He smirked with a menacing look in his eyes.

He pushed the pedal down, once again picking up speed. He was driving like there was money on it, but I'd at least managed to brace myself this time. He slowed a little as he got in place to drive side by side with the only other car on the road. He chuckled darkly to himself and then I realized why. Fear took my senses when I saw in the not too far distance, heading straight at us was a giant truck. The driver in the car next to us began to honk the horn and flash obscene hand gestures as the truck grew closer, but Jerome simply turned the radio up and began singing along with the words.

"Jerome..." I said tugging at his arm.

Nothing. And the truck was now honking at us to move.

"Jerome!"

The truck was too close for comfort. The sense that I was about to be flattened because of the idiot at the wheel filled my body.

"Jerome, move the damn car!" I shook his arm fiercely and slammed my fists in my chair.

He finally burst out cackling maniacally with an outrageous smile.

He slammed down the pedal and pulled forward in front of the car beside us, missing the truck by a hair. He laughed and howled like it was the funniest thing he'd ever experienced, whilst I sighed the biggest sigh of my life and slid low down my seat. He pulled over and parked.

"Nothing like a little near-death experience to get the blood flowing, eh doll?"

I had melted into my seat and wasn't really paying attention.

"So, how'd you like me so far?"

"Is that a serious question?" I replied breathlessly. I didn't know where I got the confidence for it, but the words were coming out.

He just giggled.

"Ok, how about I behave... For a while."

"How about you let me go?"

He lifted a long finger at me.

"Tut tut, doll face. Don't make me wiggle my finger at you."

I shuffled backwards in my seat, propping myself upright again.

"So, you know my name? Are you stalking me?" He put his hand on his chest in mock fear.

"Everyone in Gotham knows your name. You're Jerome Valeska. You've terrorised the city and murdered dozens of people. The Gotham Gazette makes sure we don't miss these things."

"The Gotham Gazette, huh? Note to self, send a gift basket their way." He chuckled to himself then looked at me.

“So, what’s yours?”

I told him my name. I was reluctant, but I was already here in the car with him.

“Hm, cute.” He replied.

I didn’t know why, but him calling me cute made me blush a little. I hoped he didn’t notice.

“You look fun.” He smiled.

“What do you mean?” I asked the question, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer.

He pulled my diary out of the door pocket.

“Let’s get to know you, shall we?”

“That’s private.” I said sheepishly. I really didn’t want him reading what was in there, but I knew I couldn’t stop him.

“Not anymore.” Jerome flicked through the pages, skimming them for interesting thoughts and secrets. It didn’t look like he was finding anything juicy, until he stopped at one page and read it in its entirety.

“I got asked out by a guy in my maths class. He’s nice, but really boring. Just like everyone else in my life. Even if I wanted to go out with him, my dad wouldn’t allow it. He says men are the devil and the only one I can trust is him. Yeah right, Mr it’s 5’oclock somewhere. Even if I took that seriously, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. The only guys in my life are complete clichés. So very predictable, so very dull. I’m so bored of this same old-same old. I want something exciting, an adventure. I need some thrills in this beige goddamn existence!”

He repeated back to me the words I had written just a week prior. He turned to me with a predatory look in his eyes. He let the diary fall from his hands carelessly and I knew then that I would be his prey. He took his gloves off and reached a hand towards my knee. He stroked and squeezed my leg and then journeyed up higher, fingers crawling underneath the hem of my skirt.

“Be careful what you wish for, doll face.” He smirked, darkly.

My breath caught in my chest and I felt a warmth in my core.

"I thought you said you were gonna behave." I peeped.

"I did, didn't I? I guess I lied."

He pulled my skirt up and ran a finger along my panty covered slit. He was turning me on. I wanted him. He was everything I had been looking for, but it was wrong. I couldn’t give in to this.

"Please... Stop..." I pleaded pathetically.

"Mmm, I don't think I will."

He softly rubbed my folds through the white cotton. My breath got heavier and I felt the heath build.

"It would be so easy for me to push these little things out of the way and slide my fingers inside you, right now. Wouldn't it?"

"Please... Don't..."

He giggled darkly.

"Oh, princess. You're just too cute."

He smiled as he moved the material to the side exposing my entrance. He slid his fingers up and down my slit, my juices covering the tips. I squirmed at his touch and tried to scooch back in my seat.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, doll, but you wouldn't be this wet if you didn't really want me inside you." He cooed. His words crashed into me like rocks. He could read my body just as well as my diary. I couldn't hide my desire from him and I didn’t want too.

He continued to rub for a few more seconds before plunging a finger deep inside me. I let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion and he smirked, seemingly satisfied with my response. He worked me with his finger, pulling out before sliding it back in and deciding to add another. He slowly pulsed his fingers inside me, palming over my clit as he slid in and out, again and again. The swell of warmth in me grew as I rocked my hips.

He pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving me disappointed and empty. I looked at him as he examined the juices coating him. He smiled at me and raised them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Mmm. You're so sweet." He said as he lowered them, his voice now deeper and slightly raspy.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, then did mine. He pushed the bag off my lap down to where my feet were and reached his arm around my waist, pulling me backwards, closer to him. He leaned me against him as one hand travelled up from my waist and wrapped around my throat. His other came down, pulled up my skirt and parted my thighs. He pushed my panties to the side once again and introduced his other hand to my wetness. His two fingers sliding in and out, but this time a little faster and much deeper. I let a yelp escape my mouth and his hand squeezed harder around my throat. His hot breath in the crook of my neck gave me goosebumps and sent chills down my spine.

He explored my walls entirely, hitting all the right spots, hot pleasure pulsing through my muscles as they clenched around his talented digits. He palmed my clit applying a gentle amount of pressure and rubbing in circles. I bit my lip in an attempt muffle my moans.

"Nuh uh. Let me hear you, baby girl." He taunted in my ear.

Two fingers from the hand around my throat pulled my mouth open and played with my tongue.

"You got something to say, princess?" He pushed his fingers deeper into me until his knuckles stopped him from going any further and pumped them, his thumb circling my clit in sweet slow motions. A loud moan escaped my throat and he smiled evilly.

"That's better." He snarled as he put his full hand back around my throat.

My legs started to stiffen and I felt my climax build as I tightened around his fingers.

"You wanna cum, baby?"

He worked his fingers inside my walls and his thumb on my clit, slightly increasing the pressure. His breath came closer to my ear and I felt him take it gently in his teeth. I yelped at the shock of his bite.

"Mm. So cute."

I rocked my hips against his hand. My release was close, it just needed a little push.

"Cum for me, princess. Cum on my fingers."

As if on his command, the dam burst and my climax washed over me. My legs shook and I moaned as I rode it out. He pulled his fingers out of me slid them in my mouth so I could taste my own juices.

“See, gorgeous. I can play nice.” He buried his face in my hair and took in my scent. He hummed to himself and I felt his grip on my throat tighten. He pulled me forwards and pushed me towards the back seat.

“My turn.” He grinned as he sat up.

I climbed into the back, closely followed by Jerome. I sat down and he straddled me, towering over me with his red hair brushing against the car ceiling. I saw the outline of his hard member pushing against the inside of his trousers. It was right in front of my face and my mouth watered for it. I suppose he caught me looking because he started to palm himself and lifted my chin up so I was looking at him.

“Do you have something sweet for me?” He leaned down closer to me, his grip on my face tightening.

I swallowed and felt the lump in my throat. He crashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was hard and forceful, just like he was. His tongue pushed into my mouth and fought for dominance over mine. It was an easy win for him. He tasted sweet, like the Jolly Ranchers. I assumed that wasn’t the first candy he’d eaten that day. He pulled away from me and smiled, studying my face with hooded eyes.

“Yummy.” He whispered.

He rose back up and unbuckled his belt. He pulled it from out of its loops, held it in front of him and snapped it quickly. I flinched at the loud sound of the leather.

“Hands.” He ordered in a serious, intimidating tone that aroused me all the more.

I held my hands up to him and he looped the belt in and around my wrists, tightly bonding them together.

“No hands for this. I wanna see how that pretty little mouth works.” He smirked lifting my chin again, tugging my bottom lip with his thumb.

He palmed himself a little more and then unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, letting them fall around his knees. I could see through his boxers that he was fully erect already. He slid them down and they joined his trousers. Jerome was big. I was worried I wasn’t going to be able to take it all, especially without the use of my hands. He balled my hair in his hand and gripped hard. I gasped at the sudden pain.

“Come on, princess. You know what to do.” He pulled me forwards and plunged into my open mouth. He let out a hiss of pleasure.

He raked his free hand through my loose hair before clenching it in his fist. He used his grip on my head to move me up and down his shaft, prompting me to start. I swirled my tongue around him and started sucking. He hissed again through gritted teeth and pushed in further. My tongue climbed up and down his shaft, licking the sticky coating of precum from him and teasing the head. I hollowed my cheeks and bobbed up and down, letting my saliva cover him.

“Oh, yeah... Fuck, pretty girl.” He groaned in his throat and bucked his hips forwards with force.

He hit the back of my throat and I gagged. The noise seemed to please him so he did it again and again and again. My lips touched his base as he assaulted my throat, gripping tighter on my hair with each thrust. I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face and eyes begging for breath, but it just pushed him further.

He let out a primal growl and pushed my head right into the back of the seat. He held me steady and started to thrust into my face fast and hard. My throat was aching and my jaw was locking. His breath was shallow and erratic. I could tell he was close. I sucked harder for him and my throat clenched tightly.

“Fuuuuck...” He groaned finally coming to a stop.

I felt him throb and twitch in my mouth as his climax shot straight down my throat for me to swallow. He was still for a few seconds, then he pulled out with a pleasing pop. He looked down at me catching his breath with a smile.

“Don’t have to tell you twice, huh?” He laughed and lowered his head to kiss me.

He didn’t seem to care he’d just cum in my mouth and kissed just as rough as the first time. This time biting my lip as he pulled away. He slid his hand back up into my hair and balled it again.

“As great as that was princess, I’m still harder than Chinese algebra. So...” Jerome climbed off my lap and shoved me down onto my front.

“All fours.” He commanded.

I positioned myself on my knees and elbows, which was difficult considering my wrists were tied. I felt him roll my skirt up and part my legs. I swallowed. After having him go so rough on my mouth, I was nervous about how he was going to be with this.

“I gotta say, this is some view back here. Shame I don’t have a camera.” He said caressing my thighs.

He hooked his fingers under the band of my underwear and slid them down around my knees. I felt so exposed and my face started to heat up and turn red with embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I was allowing myself to be this vulnerable for a criminal lunatic.

He started to rub my entrance with two fingers. Warmth welling in my core, any thoughts of reservation vanished from my mind. I felt a fast, harsh sting as he brought a hand down to spank me. I gasped at the smack and he stroked the spot where it landed, where there was sure to be a red handprint.

“Now I really wish I had a camera.” He giggled darkly.

I squirmed at his touch and tried to close my thighs, desperate for friction, but he kept them spread by sliding his knee between them.

“Oh no, gorgeous. I need you open wide.” He smirked.

I whimpered needily, wanting nothing more than to take him inside me.

“You want something, baby girl? Speak up.” He taunted evilly, sliding his fingers along my slit. He raised his hand back up and then... another spank.

All I could do was whimper. I didn’t want to say what I wanted from him.

“I can’t hear you....” He sing-songed. “What do you want?”

He circled a finger over my clit teasingly. He was purposefully not giving me enough. Just baiting me. He brought his hand down again for another swift spank. I was sure there was a bruise forming.

“I want you...” I whispered.

“What’s that?” He mocked, sliding his fingers in the slickness of my entrance.

“I want you! I want you to fuck me!” I snapped. I couldn’t take the teasing and taunting any longer. I just needed him.

He chuckled menacingly.

“You want me to fuck you? You wanna take me?”

“Yes! Yes! God, yes!”

He laughed at my neediness. I felt pathetic.

“Sure thing, doll.”

He lined himself up so he could enter me and pushed forwards, grasping hard onto my hips. I moaned loudly as he filled me for the first time, making a low, throaty groan. He reached deep into me and set me on fire in places that I didn't even know were there.

He kept a quick rough pace, digging his fingertips into my flesh tighter to keep me still and steady. I knew he was leaving marks, but I couldn’t have cared in the slightest in that moment. His thrusts made me whine and whimper for him, to have more of him. He growled like he was letting out some kind of inner beast.

He let go of one of my hips and slid his hand up my back and into my hair. Once he had a good fistful, he pulled it like a leash, tugging my head up and back. I gasped at the sharp pain, but the sound only seemed to feed more into his sadistic wanting and he pounded harder into me. The feel of how deep he was inside me banished all the pain and replaced it with pure pleasure and I bit down hard on my lip to stifle wanton cries. I felt another rough tug on my hair.

“Don’t you dare, little girl. Let me hear it. I wanna hear everything.” He demanded through short, quick breaths.

He pulled back on my hair again and I released a squeal of half pain and half pure elation. I could feel myself tightening around him. I was getting ready to burst.

“I... I’m...I’m gonna...” I panted.

“Oh, no you fucking don’t.”

He gripped the back of my scalp and pulled me backwards, slamming me down onto my back and climbing on top of me.

“I wanna see it this time.”

He had acted so fast, I barely had time to register what he was doing and he was back inside me almost as soon as he had pulled out.

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, sucking and kissing, his teeth leaving delicious hickeys and bitemarks. When he came back up for breath, he wrapped his hand around my throat and pushed my bonded arms above my head, which I was grateful for as they were getting squashed between us. He crashed his lips onto mine for a rough kiss. His tongue demanded entrance to my mouth, which I gladly allowed.

With his other hand he caressed and stroked his hand down my thigh and under my calf. He then pulled it up and pushed it back so far it almost reached my shoulder. He adjusted himself to straddle my lower thigh and picked up a faster, harder pace. With my leg like this he was able to plunge deeper. He was forceful and powerful and I relished in every thrust. I cried out completely taken by my lust for him, closing my eyes to savour it all. I felt the sting of a slap on my cheek and flashed them back open.

“Right here, princess. Eyes right here.” He said, his voice low and raspy.

His pupils were completely dilated, leaving only the thinnest ring of green around them. He seemed to be an apex predator that was in the midst of ravaging its prey and I was only too willing to be led to the slaughter.

“Exciting enough for ya, sweetheart?” He smirked with a fiendish giggle.

“Uh huh...” I nodded dazedly.

His laugh continued through the onslaught of fierce, deep thrusts pounding intensely into my lower regions. I tensed around his pulsing erection as I felt my climax creep back up on me. I let out loud erotic moans, as he built up more and more of that blissful warmth in my core.

“That’s right. Cum for me.” He grunted through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on my throat.

His pounding got faster and rougher, hitting my sweet spots exactly right. I was right on the edge of what I could tell was going to be a fantastic release. I got louder and louder as I came closer and teetered the brink.

“Yeah.. I... I’m.. Yeah... I’m gonna...”

“Go on, princess. Cum. Cum for me.”

My orgasm shattered through me like a rock through glass. My body convulsed as my moans turned into lustful screams. The ferocity of it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The sheer ecstasy took me higher than I’d ever been before. I was on a cloud and I could have stayed there forever. Jerome followed shortly after, growling like a beast as he exploded inside me. He collapsed breathlessly on top of me as I gently floated down from that little piece of heaven.

“Oh, baby girl. I’m keeping you!” Jerome dropped a kiss on my lips and lifted himself up.

I came to my senses and started to register the severity of what I had done. Or had it happened to me?

“What does that mean?” I asked, nervous of his answer.

He pulled up his underwear and trousers and tidied himself up, even taking time to straighten his tie.

“It means, baby doll, that this is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

He laughed his signature maniacal cackle and hopped back in the driver's seat.

“Hey! Are you gonna untie me?” I called to him starting to get very worried.

“I don’t know, doll. I kinda like you like that.” He laughed.

He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.

“Hold on, doll!” He cackled again, before speeding off again.

What have I gotten myself into?

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punchdrunkdoc · 2 years

Text

Just Breathe - Ch.10

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

Beth opened her eyes as the roar of the wind and traffic was suddenly replaced by an echoing silence, filled only by the purr of the bike’s engine.

She should have been freaking out over the threat to her safety; or annoyed that her life had suddenly been put on hold while she effectively went into hiding; or at least curious about where she was being taken…

But pressed tight against Bruce’s back, her arms clenched around his body, her thighs bracketing his…it was the most contact she’d had with another human being in years. And touch-starved as she was, she’d decided to close her eyes against reality and pretend.

Pretend that she was a normal girl, going for a ride with a normal guy.

Pretend that she wasn’t a freak. That her life wasn’t in danger. That the guy actually cared about her, and wasn’t just acting out of some warped sense of heroic responsibility.

It was nice while it lasted, but the real world inevitably intruded.

She sighed as the bike came to a stop, and reluctantly removed her hands. She sat back and felt the warmth between their bodies dissipate.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, his voice flat. He hadn’t made a move to dismount, and was staring straight ahead.

She hated not being able to see his eyes. They were so expressive, she was usually able to gauge his mood from looking into them.

But she had no idea what he was thinking or feeling right now and it was driving her crazy. If he really did regret their friendship, did he resent having to help her now? Did he hate the idea of bringing her here, into his private space?

“I’m fine,” she said curtly, swinging her leg off the bike. She stepped away from him to survey her surroundings. They were in an enormous underground cavern, the space lit at the far end by spotlights situated under an arching staircase. It was an abandoned train station, she realised, noticing the lettering on the arch and the railway lines under her feet.

“Where are we?” she asked, curious despite the awkward situation. She wandered over to the car in the corner noting that someone had been working on the engine.

“Underneath Wayne Tower,” he mumbled. He made a beeline for the workstation beneath the arch and started flicking through information on the monitors. The crackle of a police radio filled the silence between them.

She felt uncomfortable and out of place, and he was acting so strange - cold and distant.

He must really hate that she was here, intruding into his life.

“Did you find him?” a voice called from the floor above. An older man descended the stairs; his hair and beard were greying but his eyes were sharp and he looked lean and fit beneath his shirt and waistcoat.

Bruce didn’t look up from the screen. “Not exactly.”

“Then why are you-“ he spotted Beth the moment he reached the floor. His double-take would have been comical under any other circumstances.

“Hi,” she said, offering him a nervous smile.

“Hi,” he responded slowly. “Bruce?”

“Alfred, this is Beth. Beth, this is Alfred, he’s my…he’s Alfred.” Bruce’s eyes flicked between them, then he shut down his computer and moved back to the bike. He called to Alfred over his shoulder. “I need you to get a room ready for Beth, she’s going to be staying here while Newsome’s loose.”

He mounted the bike and started the engine. She ran over to him, suddenly angry. “You’re just leaving me here?”

He flipped the hood of his jacket up, creating shadows that hid his face from view. “I’m gonna try and track Newsome. The sooner I catch him, the sooner you can go home.”

She heard the hidden double meaning: The sooner you can leave me alone.

Hurt replaced the anger, and she didn’t say another word as he spun the bike around and shot down the tracks.

———

Bruce stared at Beth in the bike’s wing mirror as he rode away.

She looked lost and confused. And he hated that he was the reason why. He knew he was acting like an asshole, but he didn’t know how to handle this any other way.

The decision to hide her in his home had been an impulsive one, made out of fear and desperation. But if he was honest with himself, it was an impulse he’d been suppressing for weeks - since the moment Newsome had put her in his crosshairs. It was medieval and overbearing - the desired to lock her away in an actual tower - but it was the only way he knew to keep her safe.

He just hadn’t counted on how it would make him feel to see her in his space.

He’d watched her out of the corner of his eye as she’d wandered around the underground lair. As she tipped her head back to take in the ornate staircase; as she ran her fingers along the workstation table; as she peered at the engine he’d been working on earlier that night…

It was surreal having her there. But it was even stranger how right it felt.

And that worried him.

He didn’t want to get used to her being there. He didn’t want to come to rely on her presence.

He didn’t want to get any closer to her than he already was.

The thought of her being in danger already evoked bone-shaking fear, and he’d only known her a few months. It would be infinitely worse if they became any closer. He wouldn’t be able to handle that.

So he’d left. It was true that he wanted to start tracking Newsome…but there was a larger element of self-preservation involved in his sudden departure. He didn’t want to be the one to take her upstairs and show her his home. He didn’t want to see her reaction to his private world. And he definitely didn’t want to get used to seeing her there.

He would just have to avoid her as much as possible.

No matter how much he wanted to do the exact opposite.

Shoving that dilemma to the side, he continued on to Beth’s building and took up position on ‘his’ rooftop across the street. He didn’t know how long it would take Newsome to find her address, but he would be here waiting.

He dug out the binoculars from his pack, allowing himself a small moment to marvel at how quickly things could change. Three months ago he’d come to this spot for the first time, hoping to catch a glimpse of a mysterious girl…and now that girl was in his home.

And he was here looking to find a very different target.

He focused the lenses on the window of Beth’s apartment. No light was coming from inside, but the moon was bright overhead, allowing him to see that something was…off.

The curtain rail was cutting a diagonal line across the windowpane, as if it had been torn from the wall.

Shit.

He was too late.

He grabbed his gear and jogged across the street, making sure to keep his face covered by his hat and hood. He entered Beth’s building and ran up the stairs.

Her door was ajar.

It was déjà vu all over again.

But there would be no battered woman behind a couch this time. Newsome may have found Beth’s house, but he would never find Beth.

And Newsome had likely figured that out, judging by the rage-filled havoc he’d wreaked on Beth’s apartment.

There wasn’t a piece of furniture untouched; the couch cushions were shredded, the coffee-table smashed, the desk surface scratched by the knife now jammed into its centre. Every mug and plate in the kitchen had been thrown to the floor. The artwork on the walls was defaced.

Bruce ventured into the bedroom, where the destruction continued. Clothes were strewn all over the floor, the mattress of the bed was tipped on its end, and in massive letters over the headboard, Newsome had spelled out his feelings in thick black marker: BITCH!

Bruce was nearly weak with relief that he’d gotten to Beth so quickly - that she hadn’t been here when Newsome arrived…but he wished he could have spared her this. Her home - her refuge from the world that was a sensory minefield for her - was destroyed.

———

Beth woke late the next morning. With all the worry about Newsome, Bruce’s weird behaviour and her strange surroundings, her brain hadn’t shut off until the early hours. She sighed and turned on to her back, admiring the ornate gothic woodwork that dripped from the ceiling like stalactites in a cave. The whole penthouse looked like a slightly dishevelled 19th century cathedral. Like Bram Stoker meets Miss Havisham.

She kind of loved it.

It was like stepping into the pages of Brontë or Shelley, which was pretty cool for a book nerd like her…but she worried about Bruce in this environment. She’d hoped his home would be a sanctuary for him, offering him the comfort and warmth he needed after spending his nights mired in the harsh, cold heart of Gotham. But this place was just as cold and harsh, a stark mausoleum instead of a home.

Her neglected stomach growled at her, interrupting her thoughts. She’d declined Alfred’s offer of dinner last night - feeling too uncomfortable and nervous to eat - but now she needed to find food. She hiked up the bottoms of her borrowed pyjama pants and padded out into the hall. The clothes must belong to Bruce - given the length of the trousers and the Tyres & Wheels logo on the black t-shirt. She couldn’t imagine the very proper Alfred rocking this look. She felt awkward wearing them while traipsing about his house, but she had nothing else.

Downstairs, she found breakfast items laid out on a octagonal table embossed with a large ‘W’. Everywhere she turned, she found the monogram. She was someone with no knowledge of her past or heritage, yet Bruce was immersed in his. She wondered how that felt - having such a name to live up to.

She took a seat and glanced around, but she was alone. Sunlight flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows to her right, but it couldn’t banish the shadows from all the corners and recesses of the room. The place still felt oppressive and dark, even in the daytime.

She touched the side of the silver tea pot, relieved when it felt hot. She poured herself a cup and nibbled at a berry from the dish beside it.

“Good morning.” Alfred walked into the room, leaning on a cane and carrying a stack of newspapers with his free hand.

“Good morning,” she replied. She gestured to her teacup. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I was just about to make some toast. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please.”

He smiled, placed the newspapers on the table and continued on to the kitchen. Seconds later, she heard footsteps again. “That was quick,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder.

But it wasn’t Alfred.

Bruce entered the room and stopped short seeing her at the table. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He didn’t say a word as he changed trajectory and moved towards the stairs. It was if he’d forgotten she’d be there.

“Aren’t you having breakfast with us?” she asked as he walked past the table.

He paused, but didn’t turn around. “No, I’ll get something later.”

She quickly got up from her chair and moved to stand in front of him. “I don’t want to disrupt your routine or make you feel uncomfortable in your own home. You eat, I’ll go to my room. Or I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He shook his head and pushed the glasses up to rest on his head. The action dragged his hair off his face, allowing her to finally see his eyes. They looked tired. “You can’t do that. Its not safe.”

“You didn’t find him then.” It was a statement, instead of a question.

“No.”

“Can I at least grab some clothes from my apartment? Alfred took what I was wearing yesterday to wash and all I have is this.” She plucked at the borrowed t-shirt. He seemed to notice that she was wearing his clothes for the first time; his expression looked tortured.

She felt like she’d been punched in the gut.

Was he really that annoyed that she was here, and having to borrow his stuff? It was his idea in the first place!

“Why are you being like this? What happened to make you hate me so much?”

He screwed up his face, looking even more anguished. “I don’t hate you, Beth.”

“Then what’s going on? One minute we’re friends, then the next thing I know you’re ignoring me completely. Now you insist on keeping me here for my safety, but you can’t seem to stand the sight of me!”

“I can’t do this right now.” He turned away from her. Without thought, she grabbed his arm to stop him.

His bare arm…with her bare hand.

She gasped and let go, but that fleeting contact had been enough. Enough for her to catch a glimpse of the truth he was trying to hide.

She stared at him, fury overtaking the hurt she was feeling. “Are you kidding me?”

“Beth-” he looked pained.

“All this time, I’ve been going nuts trying to figure out what I did to push you away or make you regret being friends with me…and there was nothing! You pulled away just because you’re scared.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said through gritted teeth.

“It is! You were just too much of a coward to admit it. But that doesn’t-“

“Am I interrupting something?” Alfred stood in the doorway, a stern and disapproving look on his face. She felt like she’d been caught misbehaving by the school Principal.

She glanced back at Bruce, surprised by the way he was looming over her, his face bent close to hers. She was up on her tip toes, trying to match his height.

When did they get so close to each other?

He seemed to notice their proximity at the same time. He stepped back and took a deep breath. “I’m going to bed.”

She watched him leave, and took a deep breath of her own, trying to tamp down her anger.

It didn’t work.

“Join me, will you, Dr. Carraway?” Alfred’s request felt more like a command.

She sat back down and murmured her thanks when he passed her a plate stacked with toast. “I’m guessing you heard most of that.”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, smearing his own slice of bread with jam. “Don’t worry about your secret. Bruce told me what you can do, and rest assured I won’t tell a soul.”

She hadn’t even processed the fact that Alfred had seen her ‘read’ Bruce. Which just proved how scattered she was feeling. “I appreciate that. And please call me Beth. It seems I’ll be here a while longer.” She sounded like a sulky teenager.

“Which I think is a good thing, despite the circumstances.”

She stared at him in confusion. “Good how?”

“Bruce was determined to distance himself from you, as you just discovered. It’ll be a lot harder for him now, with the two of you under the same roof.”

“But why was he so determined? We’ve all lost people - its a natural part of life. Why would he cut himself off from his friends just because of that?”

He whispered something under his breath and shook his head with a wry chuckle. It sounded like he was repeating the word ‘friends’.

She ignored that and kept talking, needing insight on the man upstairs. “I don’t remember my parents.” Alfred looked up, surprised at the segue. She was surprised too - she didn’t normally open up about her past to relative strangers - but there was something so kind and trustworthy about Alfred. She felt like she could tell him anything.

“I have no family,” she continued. “And because of my…ability…I’ve never been able to get close to anyone. And I’m desperate to.” The last was said on a whisper. It was such a deep, hidden part of her that it was a struggle saying the words aloud. It was a great irony that one of her favourite quotes - the one she’d recited to Bruce under the stars - spoke of existence only being bearable through love.

Because she’d never felt love.

She’d never loved, nor been loved. Which meant that sometimes her existence was unbearable.

And it was that deep hidden secret that made it so hard to accept Bruce’s choices.

“I don’t understand how he can voluntarily turn his back on that type of bond.”

Alfred sighed and leaned back in his chair. “His parent’s death affected him greatly. He’s been living with survivor’s guilt and an intense, atypical grief reaction for more than twenty years.”

“You sound like a psychologist.”

He laughed softly. “I was never able to get him to see one of those. So I did some reading, to try and help him.”

“He’s lucky to have you.” She could hear the wistful note in her own voice. She’d had social workers that had cared about her. A couple of psychologists, and some fosters families that never worked out in the end…but she’d never had an Alfred in her life.

“I’m not so sure. I tried…but he kept me at arm’s length for a long time. It was only last year that even I grasped just how deep and traumatising his fear of loss is.”

Beth was silent for a moment, absorbing that revelation. If Bruce’s fear really was that profound…then she owed him an apology. It didn’t completely excuse the way he’d been treating her, but she needed to be less judgemental. They were both damaged in their own ways.

She was desperate for connection…but unable to get truly close to anyone.

He was terrified of connection…so was trying everything to distance himself from her.

———

Bruce trudged into the penthouse, his footfalls heavy with fatigue. He’d gotten very little sleep after his confrontation with Beth yesterday and had spent the better part of the last ten hours sifting through Gotham looking for signs of Newsome.

But the man had gone to ground.

He’d met up with Gordon around midnight, but the GCPD had no clues or leads to share. They were too focussed on Beth.

“You don’t think its strange,” Gordon had asked, “that the pathologist we brought onto the case was the person who found Samantha Sterling? And now she’s in the wind, just like Newsome?”

“You can’t possibly think they were working together,” Bruce countered.

“It’s just not adding up, man. This whole case is a mess.”

Bruce agreed with that. But for completely different reasons. He tried to steer Gordon away from his suspicions. “I don’t think Dr. Carraway is the key to this. We need to concentrate on finding Newsome.”

Which he’d done for hours afterwards, fruitlessly searching known boltholes and safe-houses, before calling it quits.

He was tired and hungry and frustrated; and now that the search was over for the night and there was no more work to distract him, all the thoughts he’d pushed to the back-burner sprung to the fore.

And they all centred on one thing: Beth

A faint golden light caught his eye as he moved towards the stairs. He followed its source to one of the fireplaces, where a few smouldering logs glowed in the hearth. Curled up in the leather armchair in front of it was the woman in question, fast asleep.

Her head rested awkwardly against one of the wings of the chair, and her arms were wrapped around her bent knees as she clutched them to her chest. A blanket had fallen down around her feet. She was still dressed in his clothes, an old pair of jeans this time - rolled up at the ankles - and a grey sweatshirt that swamped her figure.

As it did yesterday morning, seeing her in his clothes affected him on a strange primal level. It was as if the alpha male buried deep inside of him had woken up to stake his claim on her.

Unable to resist, he moved closer and crouched down beside the chair. Her skin seemed to glow in the light thrown from the dying embers in the fireplace. She always looked slightly tanned, as if the dull skies of Gotham could never quite succeed in leaching all the colour from her. Her hair was golden and her eyes were like the sky on a warm, clear day.

She was sunshine and summer…and he was darkness and shadow.

He was Hades, and he’d stolen Persephone and brought her to the underworld.

He ducked his head and shook it. Sleep deprivation was making him melodramatic.

He raised his head again. Her eyes were open and watching him. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he replied just as softly. “What are you doing down here?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

She shifted into a more upright posture but kept her legs pulled up, as if maintaining a protective position. He rose and sat on the ottoman in front of her, wanting to be on her eye level and not below it.

Maybe he felt the need to protect himself too.

“I wanted to apologise,” she said. “For getting angry at you yesterday.”

He stared down at the floor between them. “You had a right to be angry. I didn’t handle things well, and I treated you like crap. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

He’d hidden on the balcony above her and Alfred yesterday and overheard their whole conversation. A part of him had resented how easily she opened up to the older man; another part of him was annoyed at Alfred for spilling his secrets…

But mostly his heart ached for Beth.

“I’ve never been able to get close to anyone…and I’m desperate to.”

He’d felt like the biggest piece of shit on earth after hearing that confession. He knew he’d hurt her when he stopped contacting her and ignored her calls…but he figured she’d get over it in time.

He should have known better. He’d seen for himself how isolated she was, how solitary her life was. She’d even joked about her lack of companionship: “Well, I don’t really know from experience, but I hear that friends drop by whenever they want.” She hid her insecurities and her sorrows so well behind that cheerful smile and teasing voice that he’d fallen for the act.

When the truth was, their tentative friendship meant as much to her as it did to him. Maybe even more.

And he’d ripped it away from her. Because he’d been scared.

She was right to call him a coward.

And now she was apologising to him.

“But I still should have been more understanding,” she said. “I was projecting my own…issues…on to you. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head again. “Please, stop.”

She bit her lip and looked wary.

“Can we just go back to how things were before I acted like an asshole?” He asked.

“Is that what you really want?” she whispered.

He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

It was the truth.

He’d been trying to protect himself against future pain by distancing himself from their relationship. But that wasn’t fair to her. She had no one else in this world. No one who understood her; no one who knew her secrets. Only him. He couldn’t - he wouldn’t - hurt her anymore and subject her to that isolated life again.

And he wasn’t just saying ‘yes’ out of concern for her. He missed her. And he wanted to be near her. There was no one else in the world who knew him and understood him like she did.

They were two of the most lonely and broken people in Gotham…and yet they’d found each other.

He wouldn’t throw that away again.

CHAPTER 11

-----

Taglist: @hollandorks @grunge-n-roses5 @xmxrfx @neptunesands @caramelcandescence @blossomedfloweroflove @wanderdreamer @angelsarecallin @stephenismyking @rabbitdictionary @starshipvelociraptor @yanna-banana @batmanlovesnirvana @bees-fart-too @hypnoash

#batman #The Batman 2022 #The Batman 2022 fic #Battinson #battinson fic #Bruce wayne/OC #bruce wayne/original character #Bruce wayne/original female character #batman/OC #Batman x original character #Just Breathe #Batman fanfic

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enigmainvestigations · 4 years

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Some of the paint was chipping off the mural. Its massive length spanned almost the entire wall of the walkway, making it almost fifteen feet long. The painting was rather crude in its depiction of the island, juvenile, as if it was created by an unskilled artist. Most of it was large blue strokes to represent water, with a large slab of green floating in the middle in an attempt to resemble the island. Blots of green brush strokes depicted trees, with blue four-leafed flowers speckling the landscape. The island was void of any buildings, except for a tiny mansion perched on the top of the green blob. At least the artist hadn’t taken too much liberty with the scale and hadn’t tried to make the mansion appear much larger than it should. There was tiny writing next to the mansion. It read: "Gotham House of Madness and Ill Humors"

Edward Nigma took a step back from the mural and concluded that perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be some beautiful depiction of a rich family’s property. But it did seem odd. What was the point of the mural if it was only going to be a slab of green painted over a slab of blue? And that begged the question: why was it painted at all? He tilted his head to look down the walkway to the mural’s end and heard someone call his last name from the hall behind him. They were far away, and he decided he didn’t need to hurry with his examination. Looking down to the other end of the mural, he saw there was a tiny blotch in the water, and Edward assumed it was supposed to be a boat. Strange to paint only one, he thought.

“Nigma.” The voice called again. This time it was much closer, and followed by the sounds of heavy footsteps advancing in his direction. They slowed as the orderly drew nearer and came to a stop at his side. “I know you heard me calling you. If ya wanna know what I think, that’s not the best way to start your first day in the wing.”

Edward ignored him and lifted a finger to point at the mural. “I’ve never seen this before.”

The orderly looked at the mural and shrugged. “Welp, you’ve never been in this wing before.”

“Doesn’t it seem strange to you?” Edward asked.

“Out of all the strange things I see in this building, it’s probably on the least strange side a’ things.” The orderly shifted his feet and waved a hand in front of Edward’s face to break his concentration on the painting. “You can stare at this later, alright? Dr. Leland wants ta see you.”

Edward found that odd. He had spoken to her yesterday morning, and she had implied it’d be a while before they’d speak again. A chime broke out over the loudspeakers, signifying the guard shift change. Edward let out a deep sigh and turned toward the orderly, noting the slight show of fear in his eyes. “Alright then, ready when you are.”

The man looked suspicious, yet grateful of Edward’s compliance. “Thanks, Edward. I’ll escort you over there.”

Normally, that suggestion would get on Edward’s nerves. It was understandable that a patient might need supervision, but it always felt like they were implying he needed babysitting, as if he’d fall down the elevator shaft if he was left on his own. Currently, though, he didn’t mind the offer. Not all of the guards were aware of his transfer, and the last thing he needed was for one to spot him and sound the alarm in fear of his attempted escape. That was the last thing he wanted, he didn’t feel like being tackled to the ground today.

As the two men proceeded down the hallway, the vapid sound of speech hit Edward’s ears. He was coming to the decision he didn’t like this ward as much as the Rutan Wing. Initially, he’d found the more populated wing to be more exciting. The groups of people were a welcome change after his previous surroundings outside the asylum, but those feelings were wearing off quickly. At least the Rutan Wing was quiet and mostly empty. It wasn’t entirely a “Wing” of the asylum, just a smaller ward, but his room had a decent view of the Trigate Bridge. The dayroom was typically empty, and he’d spent most of his time reading or listening to the guard’s radio at the security station. At the time, he felt that the lack of activity was dull, and he was itching for a change in the environment.

But, last night the orderlies and guards had come to his room and said he was being transferred. He’d assumed they were taking him to a more secure area of the asylum. But they’d brought him here, the wing at the front; the least secure wing in the whole building. At first, he’d seen this as an achievement. If Dr. Leland was moving him to the front wing, it must be a statement about his progress. That he could be trusted with less supervision, and that he was getting better. He’d never even seen these wards before, and it was fascinating to see how the non-threatening patients experienced the asylum. They were allowed to wander around the halls freely -- well, mostly freely. But, it was certainly much more freedom than Edward was used to on this island.

The issues that arose became clear rather fast. Since the other patients had more freedom, it meant he had to interact with them more than usual, and they interacted with him with much curiosity. He started to find the chatter, noise, and hectic energy of the ward unsettling. So unsettling that he found himself wandering the halls until he found a spot where the echoing voices were much quieter. His tiny room in Rutan was starting to sound like paradise compared to this.

The orderly motioned Edward down the hall that led to the main clerical offices. He’d been there a few times during his frequent lock-ups in the facility. Usually, it was during his multiple escapes from his cell -- either breaking into offices to snoop for information, or for stealing certain supplies to aid in a more dramatic escape from the asylum. He’d always enjoyed watching the police and guards try to figure out how he’d disappeared, or how he’d gathered the supplies to enact his theatrical exit. It had always been an exciting experience being here, until the Bat had designed him a new cell. Then he began to understand why the others disliked their confinement in Arkham so deeply.

The two men stopped at Dr. Leland’s office door, and Edward watched as the orderly knocked and opened the door for him to enter. “Nigma is here for his appointment, doctor.”

Dr. Leland thanked the orderly and motioned for Edward to sit in the guest seat in front of her desk. Sitting down, he made himself comfortable, though it was mostly for appearances. Dr. Joan Leland wasn’t an unintelligent woman, regardless of her sense of morality that certainly made her do stupid things. She was one of the “good ones,” believing that the patients in this asylum were capable of rehabilitation and living normal lives. This belief had remained firm, even after the magnitude of evidence she’d witnessed that proved she might be wrong.

Edward watched the doctor finish filing some paperwork, and he resisted the urge to fidget his fingers. Dr. Leland was smart and observant; she would certainly notice his unease. But Edward knew that she also didn’t do things without reason, and there were too many odd occurrences to indicate something was going on with his situation. Putting a file away in her desk drawer, the doctor finally looked at him -- right in the eye, as she usually did.

“Hello, Dr. Leland,” Edward said, trying to sound casual.

“Hello, Edward. How are you liking the Thayer Wing?” Dr. Leland asked with her typical direct approach.

“It's okay.”

“Just okay?” Dr. Leland arched her brow.

It looked like she found that in conflict with what she’d assumed, so Edward adjusted. “I'm enjoying the broader freedoms. I spent all morning in the library, that was enjoyable.”

Dr. Leland eyed him closely. She did this quite often, and it was obvious she did so when she was trying to decipher if Edward was lying. “That's good, I had a feeling you'd take advantage of that amenity immediately.” She scribbled down a few notes, then gave him a calm smile. “How are you adjusting to the people? The wing is much more populated than what you’re used to, has that been a concern?”

“No.” Edward lied.

Dr. Leland didn’t catch the deception and began writing down a few more notes in his file. “I see. I know it's just been one day, but how do you feel about the new schedule?”

Edward found that a bit strange. He hadn’t been told of any schedule changes, but he decided not to dwell on it. “It's alright.”

The doctor nodded and flipped through a few pages in his patient logs. “I see your stitches were removed… you have a clean bill of health.” Signing off on some of the papers, she finally looked him in the eye again. “Are you still in communication with Ms. Quinzell?”

“No,” Edward said, a slight chuckle in his voice.

“Really?” Dr. Leland’s brow arched again.

Edward sighed. “You monitor everything I do, doc. You'd know before I would if she was trying to get in contact with me.”

The doctor leaned back in her seat, tapping her pen between her fingers as she examined him and Edward examined her in return. It seemed strange that she was more concerned about his contact with Harley than his adjustment to the new wing. He was starting to feel like she was going down some kind of checklist, but for what, he couldn’t imagine.

“If she does try to contact you, what would you do?”

Edward huffed. “I doubt she would, but I would just tell her to leave me alone.”

“You would?”

“Yes,” Edward answered, annoyance showing in his voice. “I'm sorry, doc, but what is going on here?”

“What makes you think something is?” After the words left her mouth, she appeared to catch herself and waved an apologetic hand in his direction. “I'm sorry, Edward. Sometimes it’s difficult to get my mind to drop old habits with you.” Dr. Leland set her pen down and rested her elbows on the desktop. “Edward, we had our meeting with the superintendents today. When Dr. Young heard about your progress, she was very impressed.”

That wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and he found himself confused on how best to respond. “Is that a good thing for me?”

Dr. Leland paused, and her eyes averted from Edward’s for a brief moment. “Things are being run differently here now. With new head doctors, new procedures --”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Edward cut her off. “Jerry is dead, and now things are different. I’ve heard all of that enough since I’ve been back. Can I ask you to please skip the public relations speech and just get to the point? Or would that request be considered part of my unproductive personality traits?”

“You're being released, Edward.” The doctor said flatly.

“I'm what, now?”

Dr. Leland paused again and folded her fingers together in an attempt to seem more forthcoming. “The head doctors think that, since you've progressed in your treatment, and you aren't exhibiting any aggressive tenancies -- they think you're a good candidate for the supervised release program.”

Edward stared at her, his disbelief apparent on his face. He let out a small chuckle. “This is a joke. This has got to be a joke, right?”

“No, it's not a joke.”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth was slightly agape as the weight of what she’d said set in. “Have you all gone insane? Has everyone in this building lost their minds? You can't release me.”

Dr. Leland jumped on that statement, quickly adding, “Why is that, Edward?”

“I can't go out there! I'm me!” he exclaimed, though tightly gripped the armrests of his chair to control his temper. Dr. Leland was watching him closely, her eyes searching for something as if she was looking for a clarification of some sort. Edward could feel his pulse rising and a tremble beginning in his hands. He leaned forward and spoke calmly, yet directly. “Look me in the eye, doc, and tell me you think I'm ready to be a part of society.”

The doctor contemplated that question for a moment before averting her eyes again. “You are no longer a danger to yourself or to others. That is the major reason you were the property of the state.”

Edward scoffed. “Oh, so now that I'm not dangerous I'm suddenly not "crazy" anymore, and I get kicked out?”

Dr. Leland’s eye very subtly twitched. “That's the way the rules work.”

Edward’s grip tightened on the armrests, his eyes darting around as his mind tried to come up with a solution. “Can I re-admit myself?”

“We're an asylum for the criminally insane, Edward, so, no. But you can admit yourself to a different hospital.”

“I can't believe this,” he said as he threw his hands up in exasperation.

Dr. Leland leaned forward, and lowered her voice in an attempt to calm him. “Edward, I know this is frightening. But you will have another doctor to continue to help you adjust --”

“I don’t want another doctor, I want you to be my doctor!” He noticed a somber realization flicker in her eyes, and he tried to slow his breathing. She had been his most frequently appointed doctor whenever he was at the asylum, and, once he’d made the decision to reach out, she’d been willing to listen to him. But that had taken years of sessions, years of him playing with her mind and refusing to speak. He’d had time to observe her, and he knew she would honestly provide assistance. The thought of talking with someone new was inconceivable.

Edward released his grip on the chair and rested his elbows on the desktop in front of him. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to just -- to start taking this seriously, and start letting my guard down?”

Dr. Leland leaned in more as well. “I know that was very hard for you, and I know that you can do it again.” Her expression was strong, as if she was trying to show him how much she believed those words. “Your new doctor won’t have as many patients, they’ll be able to give you more personalized care. It will be better for you.”

“Who are they?” Edward asked in a huff, “Who is my new doctor?”

A hint of sadness flared in Dr. Leland’s eye, and she tried to cover it up with a small smile. “I’m not sure, yet.”

“Wonderful.” He sighed and flopped back in his chair.

“Edward, you can do this,” she said, and her strong expression returned. “You need to keep reminding yourself why you wanted to make a change in your life. Keep that as your cornerstone, and try not to lose focus.”

He shook his head, still in disbelief, “I don’t… have anywhere to go.”

Dr. Leland gave him another sad smile. “You’ll be put on an assistance program. They’ll help you find a place to live, a place to work, and you’ll have some money to help you pay your bills.”

Edward chuckled at that. Yeah, I bet plenty of landlords in this city will be jumping at the chance to have you as a tenant, his thoughts chimed in, and he immediately tried to ignore them.

“How long?” He asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“How long until you all kick me out of here?”

“It takes about a week to get all the paperwork in order.” Noticing the cynical look on his face, Dr. Leland continued, “You can spend that time wisely. You should be thinking about what profession you’d like to go into.”

“What?” That statement yanked him from his internal thoughts.

“Well, you won’t be a criminal, and you’ll have a stamp of approval from the asylum. You should start considering what you’d like to do for employment. You’re very good at gathering information, perhaps you could be a journalist, or a researcher for one of the papers.”

Edward began fidgeting in his chair, and the trembling in his hands started to die down. That was a thought, but completely out of the question. If he was going to be out on the streets, the news of his release was going to spread like a wildfire in the underworld. And working for any news outlet would put him too close to the criminal activity in the city. That line of work would be unreasonably dangerous for him at the moment, but the suggestion had triggered his thoughts to wander. There were other professions he could get involved in, especially if he wanted to stay off of everyone’s radar.

Despite what the state might intend, he was sure they were going to have difficulty finding even a grocer that would allow him to mop their floors for a few measly cents a week. He could already see the hurdles they would have to jump through to find him employment, and something he’d heard on the guard’s radio in Rutan snuck into his memory. The city was desperate for new business owners after all the carnage on the streets the last few months. Many people had had to close down, and migration into the city had trickled down to nothing. The newscaster on the radio often mentioned the officials’ constant complaining about the dwindling funds in the budget.

His doctor shifted in her seat, and the movement pulled him out of his thoughts. She was staring at him, still examining him with those searching eyes. Dr. Leland normally would allow him to get lost in his thoughts, and she rarely interrupted him when he did. But, this time, she looked more curious than usual.

“Did that help calm you down, Edward?” She asked.

He slowly let out a breath, “Yeah.”

“Good. Just remember, you have more possibilities now than you did before, and many more options at your disposal. You don’t have to leave here and get lost again.”

Edward looked her in the eye, “Can I ask for something?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Can I have some reading material?” Seeing her apprehension, he swiftly explained. “I just want to refresh my memory on the laws, and the current services available for opening a business.”

Dr. Leland tilted her head. “I don’t see why we couldn’t get you some books on the requirements. However, you’re going to have a lot of paperwork to go through the next few days. There is a lot of information you’ll need to get familiar with concerning the current services available to the survivors.” She picked up her pen and scribbled down something on one of her notepads. “I’d suggest you read through all of it, no matter how daunting the volume might be. Those conditions and services apply to you, too, remember.”

He gave a weak shrug. “I’ve never been intimidated by large volumes of information, doctor.”

She attempted to hide a smirk, and gave him a stern look. “Read through all of it, Edward.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll read through it.”

She nodded her approval, then turned her attention down to her notes. She pretended to contemplate them for a moment, and then looked back up at him and fixed her gaze with his. “I know we already went over this, but I’d like to go back to the subject of Ms. Quinzell.” She ignored Edward’s eye roll and set his large patient file aside. “It is a source of concern for me, Edward. I want to ensure that I have explained my position fully before you leave this facility.”

“What else is there --” Edward stopped himself, and his lips thinned. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and motioned for her to continue. “I’m sorry, doc. Go ahead, what is your concern?”

Dr. Leland seemed pleased with his composure. “I know you said you aren’t going to be in communication with her, but you haven’t ever fully explained why you two were in such close communication while she was here. The two of you haven’t ever been hostile toward each other, but you two also never paid much attention to one another. My concern is that something is going on.” She set her pen back down, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m not trying to pry into your personal business, but I’m afraid that if she contacts you then you will talk to her. I don’t think that is a good idea.”

Edward nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Leland beat him to it.

“You are doing the hard work to try to live a better life. Ms. Quinzell spent her time here exhibiting her usual behavior, and then escaped from the facility. In my opinion, she is not on the same path that you are, and any communication with her would be detrimental to your rehabilitation.”

Edward fidgeted in his seat and nodded again. “I know, doctor. I think my reluctance to talk about this situation might have given you the wrong idea. Harley and I just -- we had very different experiences during the lockdown. I know it will sound cruel of me to say so, but I was genuinely really surprised that she survived. I was just curious how she did, that’s all. Honestly, doc, that’s it.”

Dr. Leland wasn’t buying that explanation, Edward could see it on her face, so he kept going. “And, I felt like I could talk to her about our experiences. It was easier to discuss it with her, since she was there, albeit under different circumstances, considering her side.”

Dr. Leland perked up, but she did a decent job of not letting her eagerness show too much, “You spoke to Ms. Quinzell about your time on the island?”

“Yeah. As I said, it was easier to talk to someone who already knew a lot of the circumstances.”

“Did it help to talk to her?”

“Kind of. Not really, actually.” Edward ruffled his hair, mentally kicking himself for bringing up the subject. “She understood some things, but -- I mean, it helped at first, but, now, I don’t know.” Edward adjusted his glasses and looked his doctor in the eye. “You don’t have to worry about me talking to her. Harley made her position quite clear, she has no intentions of quitting her criminal behavior. I don’t even see why she’d contact me, since I made my position clear as well.”

Dr. Leland stared at him in silence. She wasn’t showing any tells, but Edward could see it: she was still suspicious. Eventually, she stood from her seat and gave him a final look, “If she contacts you--”

“I won’t speak to her,” Edward confirmed.

The doctor nodded and picked up his patient file, setting it on the filing cabinet behind her. “I apologize for having to cut this discussion short, but I have a patient to assess. I’ll see to it that we get you those legal texts. If you need anything from me, just tell one of the nurses or the orderlies that you’d like to speak with me.”

Edward agreed and stood from his chair. The doctor stepped around her desk, and Edward moved backward toward the wall to keep a safe distance between them. Watching him, a smile crept across Dr. Leland’s lips. “You don’t need to keep your distance from me, Edward. You’re not in Intensive anymore.”

Hearing her words, he felt a bit foolish. He nodded to her to show that he understood, but remained standing by the wall. Dr. Leland took a step toward him, her smile shifting to a calmer one. “You’ll be alright. Just try not to let your negative thoughts hold you back, and stay on course. If you need me --”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I know where you work, I’m sure I can find you if I need you.” Edward said, triggering a small chuckle from Dr. Leland.

He walked with her out of the office, and she motioned for one of the guards to get Edward an escort. “So, thinking of making your own business. What line of work were you thinking of going into?”

Edward gave her a weak smile, “Finance.”

Dr. Leland gave him a suspicious look, but returned the smile. “Not a bad idea. Lots of money to be had in the world of taxes.”

“Yeah, that’s why I decided I should brush up on the laws.” Despite his honesty, she still looked concerned, though she didn’t voice it. She bid him good day, instructed him to follow the rules, and he watched as she hurried off down the hall to her next appointment. It took a few moments before an orderly showed up to take him back to his wing in the asylum, and he found himself bewildered again. He wasn’t used to being treated with so much lack of concern, and it was beginning to make him feel nervous.

As the two walked back to the Thayer wing, the orderly tried to make some small talk, though his choice in subjects made Edward quickly lose what little interest he’d had in the discussion. As they arrived at the heavy dividing door, the orderly motioned for Edward to go ahead of him and locked the security door behind him with a loud clang. The wandering patients took note of Edward’s return, and he hurried back to the empty hall to avoid the curious stares. His eyes landed on the mural immediately, and he slowed his pace as he walked up to it.

He found himself staring at the tiny, lone boat in the water, and a different sensation hit him. As he looked over the painting, he found that it had a charm to it he hadn’t noticed the first time. The starkness of the island felt calming, and the little blue flowers didn’t look so juvenile now. The blue void of the water was serene, as if it was a protective barrier surrounding the land. He was starting to feel like he understood what the artist was trying to convey. It was something that didn’t require masterful artistic skills to explain, which was probably why they didn’t bother. The island was a sanctuary from the outside world, a tiny home locked away by a river of water. Somewhere where the struggles on the lands surrounding it couldn’t touch. Though the mansion at the top still looked creepy.

Oh, so you’re happy being locked away on islands now? The thought came from nowhere, and he willed it to stop, but his mind persisted. The outside world is too frightening for you, so now you want to be like whatever patient painted this? Locked away in a cage where you’re safe, so the scary bad men can’t hurt you anymore?

His eyes narrowed as his temper began to rise. That wasn’t it, he just wasn’t ready to leave yet. Despite what the doctors said, he knew he hadn’t made enough progress. There were too many issues he was dealing with. He kept telling himself to keep things simple. To keep his world small, and not worry about the larger issues at hand. It wasn’t an emotional decision, it was a logical one. He wasn’t being a coward.

But he couldn’t shake the feelings, now that the thoughts had pointed them out. It could be that he was scared. That he was wasting valuable time sitting around in this cold building. The doctors didn’t want him here, and he’d lost his sanctuary of isolation from the other patients. He wondered why he felt so desperate to stay.

It’s because you’re afraid of what waits outside these walls, his thoughts concluded.

All at once, the mural in front of him had lost its appeal, and he had the impression of being right back where he’d started.

#writing post #Extra episodes #Prequel episode #canon post #Season 1 episodes #eddie post

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pinkiepiebones · 3 years

Text

Mostly Harmless. Quick Zsasz fic. No betas we post stream of consciousness like men.

There’s these “neutral ground” places in Old Gotham, repurposed underground subway stations, where the misunderstood sorts, particularly those without established hideouts, can rest when the flying rodent population in the city proper gets to be too much. No fighting amongst the scum in the neutral ground. Take that shit topside.

The first time someone sees Zsasz posted up in neutral territory, it’s jarring. Zsasz’s been operating in Gotham maybe twenty years, and his body shows it. He’s a walking mass of scar tissue, each slice symbolising a Gothamite he shuffled off this mortal plane. There are very few still around who doubt that those’re real kills. Guy means business. He’s an older guy, scrawny, but the kind of scrawny where you can just tell he’s all muscle. The kind of scrawny that, if you were stupid enough to shove him into a locker, he’d rip the door off it’s hinges, then beat you to death with it, then hack you up with it, then stuff your hacked up parts in that locker, then repair the door and reattach it.

Or something like that.

But he’s mostly harmless, and first-timers don’t get that. They don’t get that he’s choosy about his kills and that only in the direst situations does he kill without surveying the victim first. Guy’s got a kinda savior complex or somethin’.

I was down in one of the neutral zones when a two-bit wannabe encountered Zsasz for the first time. Zsasz usually doesn’t spend long in the zone, usually just patches up his latest tallies with the free medical supplies stached down there (one of the big-shots, probably Harley, thinks it’s important to keep everyone from bleeding to death). Then he heads back up for more “salvation.” A few times he’d stop down there to shave his head or do some pre-murder warm up stretches. This time, he was drapes over a beat-up old recliner, reading. I was holding an old radio to my ear, trying to listen to play by plays. Sometimes we like to take little breaks. “Self care” I think it’s called.

Anyway, a kid, some petty carjacker or shoplifter, he comes through, obviously trying to build some clout by hcrowing about his ill deeds. And he bumps into the chair Zsasz is lounging on, gotta be intentional, because the nudge makes Zsasz drop his book. The punk says something, not an apology of course. I notice a few other scum duck behind furniture that’s been dragged down here.

Zsasz’s voice is always a shock with how soft and light it is.

”You made me lose my place.”

”Whaddya gonna do about it, old man?”

And Zsasz is on his feet, he moves like a genuine predator. The punk is frozen, and since I missed the fight results thanks to this kid’s shit-talking, I toss Zsasz a knife. I could put some respect-fear in the kid, but the kinda fear Zsasz puts in people is a whole different beast. I’m direct. He lingers.

So Zsasz catches the knife and flips it open and everyone’s got their hands over their eyes but they’re watching through their fingers as Zsasz uses the end of the blade to tip the punk’s chin up so he can get a good look at him.

Zsasz grins like a car salesman. ”Do be more careful next time, okay?” He flips the knife shut and gives the punk a little pat on the head before picking up the book he dropped. The kid stumbles all over himself to get the fuck out as fast as he can.

Zsasz looks at my knife again, and grins again in that sleazy meancing way and looks at me with shark eyes.

“Oh Waylon, this blade of yours is pretty dull. It would be absolute torture to flay a little zombie with this. Well, not torture for me. You know what I mean?”

He tosses it back to me. I don’t really need a knife, but it’s never a bad idea to carry. I know he could have disemboweled the disrespectful punk with his book had he been so inclined anyway. The knife was part of the show, or something like that.

“I know what you mean, you deranged fuck.”

Zsasz chuckles and flops back down on the chair. “Someday I will reapholster this armchair with your skin, Waylon. But not today.”

”I know, Vic. I know.”

See? Mostly harmless.

#victor zsasz

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thedreammweaver · 4 years

Text

Ladies and Gentlemen, We’re Floating In Space Chapter 1 (Burton-schumacherverse riddlebird, the Truman Show AU, Ace!Ed)

Chapter 2

Warnings: unreality, manipulation, gaslighting, struggles with sexuality, some internalized homophobia/acephobia, cannibalism mention

“Though his environment may be controlled there is nothing fake about Edward.” Max said into the camera “No cue cards, no scripts. It isn’t always Shakespeare but it’s genuine..it’s a life. I created The True Man Show because people don’t need actors with phony emotions reading off a page, they need something real and Edward Nygma is 100% real.”

Ed stared into his bathroom mirror as he continued with his daydreaming “We’re not gonna make it..” he said shakily before switching to another voice “Don’t you say that! There may be a blizzard and killer penguins outside but we’re gonna get out of here and get back to civilization.”

“You have to promise me that if I die out there you’ll eat me before the penguins do.”

“Ew, gross.”

“It’s not gross, it’s survival! Eat me, that’s an order!”

“Fine, but I’ll only eat your love handles.”

“I have love handles??”

“Yeah, small ones-“

“Ed, you’re gonna be late!” Selina called.

He huffed “I know!” He sighed “Guess these guys are gonna have to cannibalize eachother later.”

“Good morning, Ed.” Ed stopped as he heard the greeting from across the street “Good morning,” he waved “Oh, and in case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight.” He said, quite charmingly, as he continued to his car. Before he could get in he was greeted by another neighbour and his dog who was jumping up at Ed. “Hi, buddy.” Ed came down to the dog’s level, taking a worn tennis ball out of his pocket and letting the dog take it “You lost this over my fence last night, huh?” He pet the dog before it ran off to catch up with it’s master. Ed opened the door to his car only to be startled by a crash behind him. Something had fallen and broken but from where? He looked up at the empty sky as he walked over, to inspect the object that looked like some sort of light “Weird.”

“This just in,” the radio in Ed’s car announced “A satellite positioned over Gotham apparently began shedding parts this morning.”

“So that’s what it was...” Ed hummed.

“Luckily no one was hurt. Anyways, is anyone out there traveling by boat or plane anytime soon?”

“Nope!” Ed frankly shivered at the thought.

“Well, that’s nice. Moving on from the horrifying perils of traveling-“ Ed wasn’t paying attention anymore as the voice droned on for a bit and then the station started playing classical music.

Before going into work Ed stopped at a little kiosk in the square for something specific. He grabbed a newspaper and then, with a little too much nervousness, reached for a fashion magazine “For the wife.” he shrugged.

Ed, feeling very bored at his desk, sneakily reached for the fashion magazine. He flipped through it, stopping when he found a picture of a woman with the same shade of hair as him. He kept flipping until he landed on another page with a green dress. He coughed obnoxiously to cover the sound of him ripping out the pictures and he stuffed the pieces that interested him in his pocket.

Ed was very excited the get out of work, as always, he’d practically sprinted to his car. He’d speedily driven to the place he went to nearly everyday after work, the aquarium. As he walked through the building he shielded his eyes from one of the exhibits when he passed, it had a sunken ship in it as decor which Ed couldn’t stand to look at. He sighed as he finally got to where wanted to be, the penguin exhibit. He sat on a bench in front of the penguins then took out a sketch book and pencil from his briefcase and he waited.

Max brought a walkie talkie up to his mouth “Let him watch the penguins for a bit and then send Oswald out.” He instructed. “Why do you keep that thing on the show, he was only supposed to be a one time sight gag for the aquarium date episode.” Max’s son, Chip, asked coming up behind him to watch the cameras too. “I know.” Max muttered “But Ed actually likes Oswald. He doesn’t get along with a lot of people that way. Viewers were getting bored of Harvey being Ed’s only friend anyways, we were going to hire another friend, remember?” Max smirked “Plus this whole arc of Ed being kind to the fat freak has been good for us. Guilts viewers into being better people, inspires little ones to look past differences, ratings go up.”

Ed pretended to have been drawing as he watched Oswald waddle out of a side door, bucket in hand, to feed the penguins. Ed acted like he only just noticed Oswald and he waved. Oswald waved back “Howdy, Ed. You’re here to draw the penguins again?”

Ed flushed “Yes- yeah. I am.” He fumbled fumbled, looking down at the half finished portrait of Oswald in his lap.

“Well, I hope you manage to find some of their good angles while they’re eating.” Oswald chuckled.

“They’re all good angles..” Ed whispered, carefully adding wrinkles to the corner of one of Oswald’s eyes.

Ed felt bummed to be getting home though he wouldn’t admit it. He wanted to pull away when Selina came over to kiss him on the cheek “How was work?”

He grumbled an answer as he set his stuff down.

“What’s wrong?” Selina asked.

“I want to go to Antarctica.”

“Ed, not this again. I thought we were going to try for a baby.”

“I’m not ready for that yet...”

“You’ve been saying that since our wedding night..”

“I want to go to Antarctica to see the penguins.” Ed said, changing the subject.

Selina rolled her eyes “There’s penguins in Gotham.”

“But I’ve memorized those!” Ed was exasperated.

Selina came over to him, hugging him and running her hand down his chest “Ed, please, let’s just go to bed.” She purred.

“You never listen to me..” Ed sighed, gently pushing Selina and her wandering hands away.

Ed felt shitty as he sat on the beach looking out at the ocean. His mind flashed back to the day his father died, that day in the boat together where only Ed survived. He wished he hadn’t asked his dad if they could stay for a little longer. He was startled from his thoughts as rain started pouring down on him. When he got up to leave after a few steps the rain was no longer over him. He looked back to find that it was in one single column then slowly it moved back over him. He ran a bit to the left and the rain followed him. After a few more seconds it started to rain normally. Ed was weirded out but too soaked to think too much about anything but getting someplace where he could dry off.

Ed had retreated to his lab in the basement instead of to bed with Selina. He opened a large chest down there and he took out the scraps of paper he’d torn from the magazine. In the top of the chest was a cutout of the statue of David with other cutouts on it of hair the same colour as Ed’s but styled and a green dress. He cutout the new hair and dress and replaced the old ones, putting those scraps into a collage forming around the statue from how many times Ed switched around the mock-up of himself. He stared at it for a moment before looking at the other side of the chest lid. It was covered in drawings of Oswald, he stuck the new one there. He was about to close the chest when he noticed something in it, two toys almost cuddled together in the bottom. It was a toy of a scarecrow and the mad hatter from Lewis Caroll’s work. “Oh boys, don’t you know that’s sinful?” Ed asked, picking the toys up “Alright, I’ll let it slide but remember you’re not really in love unless you want to take eachother’s clothes off.” He said a bit spitefully, wrapping the toys’ arms around eachother further and placing them back in the chest before closing it. He really didn’t want to sleep with Selina that night so he just slept on the bed down there, dreaming about Oswald and penguins and Antarctica.

#oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #the penguin #the riddler #riddlebird

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cdelphiki · 5 years

Text

Bruce could tell instantly that Damian’s night had been a rough one.

Aside from the obvious bruising on his arms, an unusual occurrence, despite what one might expect considering his nighttime hobby, his son looked worn down. And the way he just kind of, plopped down on the couch next to Bruce was the real indicator of how rough his night really was.

Because Damian just looked…. defeated. In a way he hadn’t looked in, well, perhaps years.

The worrisome thing, however, was tonight was one of his ‘adventuring’ nights, as Clark called it. His little playdate with the Kent boy, as they tromped around Metropolis and Gotham and found cases to solve.

It was cute, Bruce hated to admit, how Damian and Jon ran around. They were doing good work, solid cases and everything. But something about the two of them, together, while working the cases just brought a smile to Bruce’s face.

His kid was being a kid, he had finally realized, maybe five playdates into his and Clark’s grand scheme to make the boys friends.

And it had worked. Damian and Jon were the best of friends now. At times, they were inseparable. Bruce had even sprung to send Damian to school in another city, just to foster that connection he finally had to another child.

But Damian was supposed to come home from his adventure nights happy. Not defeated.

“What did you do tonight?” Bruce asked, his voice a low rumble, just audible above the crackle coming from the fireplace. The cold night wind howling against the window. He pretended to continue reading his book, while he waited for Damian to answer.

He’d been waiting up for Damian, as he always did when the boy stayed out late, but would never admit that were the case. Damian would likely throw a tantrum about trust and not being a child.

Never was it acceptable to say, ‘but you are a child,’ to him. No matter how Bruce phrased that, Damian never appreciated it. But Bruce was glad Damian was a child, because he’d already missed so much of Damian’s life. He wasn’t about to wish away a single second more of his childhood.

Damian shifted, tilted his head just slightly, before he finally said, “We saved Ms. Lane from a sniper.”

Bruce couldn’t help it. His eyebrows shot right up. He trusted the boys, he did, but that sounded like something they probably should have brought him and Clark in on. Since it involved his wife and all.

“Wow,” he said, after pausing a moment to make sure no anger would come out in his voice, “Who was the sniper? What was the motivation?”

The response Damian gave was not at all what he was expecting. Some gang, maybe. Or a hitman hired by a politician Lois had written a hit piece on. Or, hell, some random villain wanting to hurt Superman.

But no. Because Damian took a deep, shuttering breath, before simply saying, “Mother.”

And Bruce couldn’t help the sharp breath he took at the mention of the woman.

“She was just trying to get my attention,” Damian said, before Bruce could ask. He pulled his feet up onto the couch and sat there, criss cross, right next to Bruce. Staring off into the fire.

Bruce… didn’t really know what to do. What to say. Damian’s relationship with Talia was… complicated. He knew she had been a loving mother to him, at one point. That Damian had adored and loved her, even after he’d come to live with Bruce. But in recent years, really ever since Talia disowned him, he’d become more jaded in his view of his mother.

It was a shame. No boy deserved to have such a difficult relationship with a parent. Especially not his mother.

“She-” Damian started, then paused to clear his throat. His hand twitched, from its spot on his knee. Like he wanted to rub at his face, but stopped himself. Bruce wished Damian felt safer breaking down in front of people.

“She’s still the same. Exactly the same.”

He nodded, to Damian’s confession. Unsure really what to even say. Bruce pulled his leg up on the couch, however, so he could turn towards Damian better. He let his hand brush across Damian’s neck as he placed his arm behind his son’s back, and just sat there. Hoping to covey that he was there for Damian without invading his space too badly. Damian wasn’t always receptive to physical affection, but sometimes, if offered without being blatant about it, Damian would accept.

“I’m just a weapon to her,” Damian whispered bitterly, finally reaching up to wipe at his cheek. Even though Bruce hasn’t seen a single tear escape his eye. “An object,” he added, with a touch more anger, scowling at the fire now.

But Bruce could see it, in the way he pursed his lips. In the slight twitch of his eye, the quiver of his hand. He was grasping onto the anger to stave off the tears.

“Damian,” Bruce started, but then paused. Because he really wasn’t sure what to say. How to fix this, and make Damian not want to cry. ‘You are not a weapon to me,’ he could say, but Damian already knew that. ‘I’m sorry about your mother’ felt insincere. As did any false promises that ‘it will be okay’ or ‘she’ll come around.’ He couldn’t even say ‘She loves you,’ because Bruce wasn’t even sure that was true.

And, God. How could anyone not love this child?

It hurt, sometimes, how much he felt for Damian. Just seeing his son could elicit a jab right in his chest. Because he was just so damn glad to have the privilege of being Damian Wayne’s father.

He wished Talia had felt the same. If only for Damian’s sake.

“Get your coat,” he settled on, startling Damian. Pulling him right out of his war between emotions.

He blinked over at Bruce and asked, “What, Father?”

“Your coat,” Bruce repeated, standing as he placed a bookmark in his book and tossed it at the coffee table, “and meet me at the Tesla.”

“What about shoes,” Damian said dryly, wiggling his socked feet in Bruce’s direction.

Bruce just smiled and turned from his retreat out of the room to say, “Won’t need them.”

“What?” Damian said again, this time even more confused, but Bruce didn’t give him an opportunity to continue his questions. Instead, he went to grab his own coat and start up the Tesla, so it would be nice and warm by the time Damian made his way out.

It would be a little chilly, after all, in just the thin cotton pajamas Damian was wearing. It wasn’t quite winter, but it had started dipping into the upper 30s at night. Far too cold for Bruce’s liking.

They didn’t talk much, once in the car. Damian asked only once, “Where are we going?” but Bruce had refused to answer.

“Trust me,” he had said, so Damian did. At least, he didn’t question Bruce again. Instead, he started fiddling with the radio, flipping through all 19 stations twice until he finally settled on an easy listening channel.

Not what Bruce would have expected from his 13-year-old, but he wasn’t complaining, either. He was pretty sure rap or… or dubstep would have really affected the more somber atmosphere in the car. Was dubstep still a thing? He was pretty sure that’s what Tim was into at 13. Or maybe that was Jason…

When Bruce pulled into the Sonic parking lot, Damian turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “What are we doing?” he asked, as Bruce parked next to one of the order boards.

“Strawberry cheesecake?” Bruce asked instead, smiling a little at the way Damian perked up, just slightly at the mention of his favorite milkshake flavor. He still didn’t look happy, but at least he wasn’t down enough to refuse a treat when offered.

“Yes,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and scooting his chair back as far as it would go. Not that he needed the extra space to sit criss cross.

Bruce ordered them both the strawberry shakes, along side a large order of tatertots and mozzarella sticks. Neither of those for any particular reason, just because he enjoyed both fried monstrosities, and if he were going to cheat on his diet he might as well go all the way.

It was for Damian, after all. That’s what he would tell himself.

“There used to be this drive-in,” Bruce said, after he’d finished ordering and swiped his credit card as payment. He’d shut the window back and flicked on his seat warmer, too, just to help warm the car a little more. Make it more comfortable.

Bruce had picked a spot where they could watch the traffic pass by on the road in front of them, and Damian seemed to be appreciating it, because he didn’t take his eyes off the cars to listen to Bruce.

“It was a little closer to the house,” he continued, “Dad would take me there, sometimes. He was a doctor, you know, and worked weird hours. Sometimes, after a particularly rough day, he’d come home and find me still awake, so we’d go to the drive-in in our pajamas and order milkshakes.”

“Hm,” Damian said, looking down at his own pajamas and then back out at the cars ahead.

“It wasn’t usually for me,” Bruce said, following Damian’s gaze out toward the cars, “It was to help reorient himself and refocus on the good in his life. I knew that, even at 6. Just maybe not in those words.”

“And you brought me here because…” Damian said, frowning. Shaking his head, a little.

“Because we’ve both had rough days.”

Damian stiffened and asked, “What happened on patrol tonight, Father? Did I miss something?” And Bruce hated how Damian got anxious, at the drop of the hat.

“Oh, nothing,” he said easily, waving a hand at Damian, as if to dismiss all his concerns, brush away the unnecessary anxiety, “Patrol was fine. A little dull, if anything.

“Tt. Did something happen at work?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows at Bruce, now, clearly absolutely baffled as to how Bruce could have had a bad day.

“No,” he said patiently, trying to smile reassuringly, “My son came home banged up and upset.”

“I- oh.” Damian blinked. Once. Twice. Then looked down at his lap, as if studying his hands were much more interesting than talking to Bruce. Or, perhaps, less scary.

“I hate seeing you like that,” he offered. Meaning both upset and banged up, and anxious and uncomfortable talking to his own father.

In a too-small voice for the boisterous 13-year-old Bruce knew and loved, Damian said, “I-I didn’t mean to bother you, Father.”

“Damian,” Bruce said, pinching his nose. Because that was absolutely not what he had been thinking.

He was so terrible at this. He always came across as an asshole, to all his children. Some were more prone to point it out than others, but Bruce could see it. And perhaps he was an asshole. If Damian’s first response was to blame himself and apologize for coming to Bruce when he was upset.

God.

“That was not what I meant. I meant-” Bruce sighed, so Damian turned to him and just sat there. Kind of staring. No real emotion registering on his face, but his eyes were so big and bright with the street lights and dash reflecting in them. The brilliant green of his iris flecked with the blue and yellow. Blinking at him, just waiting for whatever he had to say.

“I just meant,” he continued, unable to look away from his son’s eyes, “I hate seeing you hurt. Not because it’s an inconvenience, but because you’re my son…”

Damian broke eye contact first, looking down as his face pinched, ever so slightly. His cheek twitched and his nose wrinkled. Bruce would have recognized what he was trying to prevent, even if he hadn’t looked away to hide the sheen of tears.

“…and I love you,” he finished, his own voice a little wet.

At that, Damian’s face crumpled completely, and he brought a hand up to rest against one side of his face.

His crying was silent, as it always was. Barely there, hardly noticeable unless one was looking directly at his face. Bruce would never know, passing by Damian’s room, if he were crying alone.

It was just another one of the many quirks that made up Damian Wayne. He wished Damian had never learned this skill, never needed to learn it, but he wouldn’t change his son for the world.

Well, actually. If given the opportunity to trade the world for a happy, safe childhood for Damian, he might have a difficult time saying no.

“Your mot-” he started, but then stopped as someone knocked on his window. Bruce scowled for Damian to see, not that he was even looking, then turned around with one of his aloof smiles plastered on his face.

“Thank you,” he said, when the girl handed him a bag, two milkshakes, and his receipt. He placed the milkshakes in the cupholders, and the bag in Damian’s lap. Even though the boy was looking away now, trying to regain his composure, no doubt, before Bruce refocused his attention back on him.

“My pleasure,” the far-too-chipper girl said for 4 in the morning, “Can I get you anything else?”

After answering in the negative and bidding her a good night, Bruce rolled the window back up and turned to face his son.

Damian had smoothed out his expressions again, and was now staring down into the open bag, just looking down at the food inside.

“Where was I?” Bruce mused, reaching over to pull the straws out of the bag and open them both, for the milkshakes, “Oh, yes. Your mother is a bitch.”

That got a startled laugh out of Damian, who quickly clamped his hands over his mouth while he cut his eyes over at Bruce. He lowered his hands, but it seemed he couldn’t keep the tiny little smile off his face, even after Bruce had let the comment settle.

“Look,” he said, sticking a straw in one of the milkshakes, then handing it to Damian, “I don’t know what happened to tonight, or what she said to you, but Damian… you are so much more than her son. You are not a weapon, for starters.”

“I know,” Damian said, nodding as he used his straw to mix the milkshake a little.

“She may have had a hand in creating you, but so did I.”

When all Damian did was frown down at his milkshake, now resting in his lap, Bruce set his own down and turned in his seat so he was fully facing his son. He gently turned Damian’s head so he was looking at Bruce, then placed a hand on either side of his face.

“And, Damian, you are so much more than just something we created,” he said, patting a little, begging his words to penetrate. To bounce around and stick in there. Record themselves and replay, whenever necessary.

“You are so much more than us,” he continued, “You are Damian Wayne, and I cannot put into words how much I admire you or how much I adore you.”

It was no surprise when he felt hot tears on his thumbs, from where Damian failed to keep them in. Because his own eyes were playing the same game, just perhaps not as quickly as Damian’s.

Bruce pulled Damian’s head a little closer as he leaned down, so he could plant a kiss right on his forehead, all while wiping the tears away with his thumbs, “So don’t let whatever it is she said bring you down. You are perfect exactly as you are, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Dad-” Damian choked out, fully devolving into sobs. Actual, noisy ones… or noisy for Damian, at least. Bruce let go long enough to take his milkshake and set it back in the cupholder, so Damian could throw his arms around Bruce.

All Bruce did was hug back. Hold his son for as long as he needed. Replay that one little word over and over in his head.

Because Damian was finally letting his hurt out, and there was no way he would cut it short. No matter how cold the mozzarella sticks got or how melted the milkshakes became.

When Damian finally sat up, he scrubbed lazily at his face and smiled, a little lopsided, when Bruce offered a napkin.

“So this is what your dad used to do with you?” he asked, after he’d blown his nose and picked up his milkshake.

“Sure is.” Bruce grabbed the discarded bag and pulled out the box of mozzarella sticks. “Here, try one of these.”

Damian did, but made a face at it when the cheese just broke apart. Not even a hint of stretchy, melty goodness.

“They’re better warm. We’ll heat them up at home, and I’ll show you.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Damian said, dropping his half eaten cheese stick in the box with the others, “The milkshake is good, though.”

“Isn’t it? You have a good taste in favorites.”

And with that, Damian smiled fully, and took another long slurp of his milkshake, his smile not fading for the rest of their visit.

The conversation shifted from topic to topic from there, straying between other ice cream flavors to school to upcoming plans. They didn’t talk about Damian’s night again, and Damian didn’t seem to even be thinking about it, anymore.

As they drove home, and Damian dozed off in the seat next to him, he started thinking that maybe they’d have to start a new tradition. Clearly his dad was on to something, with the midnight drives to get milkshakes.

It was, indeed, the perfect cure for a rough night.

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flannelpunkcalum · 5 years

Text

The Devil Wears Kevlar - 12

This link leads to my tdwk tag but I swear I’ll have a masterlist soon!

oh my fucking GOD guys i can’t believe that we made it this far??? just collectively? As a group? It’s been kinda incredible and I hope what I have satisfies you guys somewhat. it was super hard to conclude this segment so i hope you like it. anyway this chapter is SUPER long so get comfy. I love you. Enjoy!

Also I used this map of Gotham as a reference if that helps anyone

Aspen tries not to look like she was watching the other people in the subway. She’s trying to figure out how to arrange her face best to avoid attention. Did this kind of thing happen enough for her to look bored? Should she let herself be nervous? There were no inmates reported missing before she went underground. That was good, at least. For the inmates, she means. They were probably in more danger than she was - more danger that she would be in, soon.

Aspen tries to walk through her plan again. There’s not much of it. Getting to the island is going to be the hard part. She knew that on the Aparo Park side of Arkham Island, some sections were shallow enough to wade or swim across if she was careful and didn’t mind getting damp, and if she got on the island she was sure she’d be able to find the actual asylum. That was if she could actually get there, of course. Lately, the Gotham City Police had been taking a “better safe than story” approach, so they might cut off subway service at any moment. Aspen was hoping they didn’t cut off public transport until they were /sure/ it was an emergency. Last she heard, the asylum was being evacuated, but the subway lines just went under the island, maybe it wouldn’t be enough of an emergency. Ivey was still probably contained to the asylum, right? So they might run transport a little longer. Just a little longer. Before they realized they didn’t know how to fight her.

She reaches into a pocket of her backpack and digs around for hand cream. She wants an excuse to fidget. She’s so close. She’s so close.

Aw, fuck. She forgot her earbuds.

They hit University station no problem, then St. Albert. Aspen keeps her eyes trained on the gritty floor in front of her, shoulders hunched. She wants to look tired, like she’s just trying to get home after a long day. If she keeps still and quiet, maybe she can trick the world around her into thinking that she doesn’t care, she doesn’t need this. Maybe if she doesn’t think too hard about it, the universe will let her get to the island. That’s all she needs. She can take care of herself after that, she just needs to get there.

They hit River Park. It’s the last station before Aparo Park, the subway goes right under the island. Aspen grips her hands tighter as people leave the car. It’s quiet now. She tries not to think too hard. Is the train stalling at the station? The doors are still open. Fuck. She bites at her lower lip. She knows it’s going to be raw by the end of the night, no matter what ends up happening.

If service had stopped, they would have told her, right? The conductor would have made an announcement? Aspen holds her breath until the doors of the train car close and she can sigh in relief.

Home free.

She leans back in her seat as the train starts moving again. They can’t stop her now. Maybe that’s a bad thing. Maybe she shouldn’t be trying to get to this stupid island.

Aspen had taken this trip a few times, meeting up with people in the north part of Gotham. Brunch in the Hill, that sort of thing. The trip under the asylum feels longer now, though, and Aspen tries not to think about the weight of the water overtop of her. She takes deep breaths and keeps an eye on the ad in front of her. Focusing on it helps her nerves a little. It’s about not littering cigarette butts. That’s good of the city to point out. So many people smoke around here.

It’s probably the stress.

Wait. The train is slowing down. Aspen sits up, looking around anxiously as the train comes to a stop. All she can see is black tunnel walls outside. Fuck.

Maybe it’s just a delay. They can’t leave a train car full of civilians in a tunnel under an asylum undergoing incredible structural damage from plant roots, or whatever. They have to take her to the other side, right? Even if it takes a minute or two.

Breathe, she reminds herself. Don’t panic. Not before you get to the fight. Once Ivey’s trying to strangle you with a vine, then you can panic.

“Uh, attention, passengers.” Aspen crosses her fingers in her lap. “We are currently experiencing service interruptions on the Waterfront line due to an emergency on Arkham Island. We’re going to be returning to the Island Centre of Gotham City as soon as the tunnel behind us clears. Thanks for your patience.”

Fuck. Aspen feels her skin go cold. That’s it. They stopped her. Her night is over unless she can find a way out of this car. Again, something takes over her. She’s come too far with a textbook and a cookie sheet as armour in her fucking backpack to turn back now.

...Maybe she could take her chances in the subway tunnel. Aspen knows time is running out, but she makes herself sit still and think it through, heart pounding. It was unlikely that any trains were going to be coming through, now. And this was Gotham. Tunnels crisscrossed the entire archipelago, and there might even be a shortcut through the tunnels. Worst comes to worst, she emerged at Aparo and found her way across the river from there.

She springs up from her seat, getting looks from the other passengers in the car. “My kid sister is home alone uptown.” She lies to no one, looking around desperately for an emergency exit. Nothing in this car. When she rattles the doors, they won’t open. She probably looks crazy. She doesn’t fucking care.

Maybe there’s something in the next compartment. She doesn’t waste time before she wheels around towards the door connecting the cars and slips through. It’s darker in there, when it rattles shut behind her. She takes a deep breath in the brief privacy it allows her. This line has older trains, and the passages between cars are little vinyl accordions, with a metal walkway connecting them. They’re welcome, right now.

Now that she’s had a moment to think, Aspen’s willing to bet that if she takes the emergency exit, some alarm will go off, and maybe the conductors or GCPD will get involved. She can’t afford that. If she gets arrested Calum could downright fire her. Maybe he’d helpfully get one of his friends across the country to offer her a job. Maybe he wouldn’t. It’s just a big risk to take. The train’s gonna start moving any minute. Aspen needs a quieter way off this train, now. Her hand wrapped around the little knife in her pocket as she pressed her hand in, trying to think.

Wait. She felt the cold, smooth edges of the knife, letting her fingers trace over it slowly as she thought. That was one way out.

Adrenaline surges through her and she unfolds the pocket knife, gripping it tightly before stabbing out into the dimness around her. It bounces off the fabric, but Aspen can see a line of white threads where the knife tore it, just a little. Fuck, she really shouldn’t be doing this. Again, she stabs down, and this time she feels cool air from the tunnel when the fabric audibly rips. She presses the knife into the slash she made, dragging the knife down, kneeling to get it low enough make a hole big enough for her to squeeze through. The train lurches, there’s no time to think - she takes off her backpack and pushes it through, and then wiggles herself through. She drops gracelessly to the tunnel floor, feeling gravel stick into the palms of her hands as she presses herself up. She flattens herself to the wall of the tunnel and closes her eyes as the train rushes by, gathering speed - it’s a foot away from her at best, and it is so, so loud. Lights flash against her eyelids.

And then it’s gone.

Aspen can hear the train rattling away down the tunnel, and she opens her eyes. She blinks to try and adjust her vision, but the tunnel is pitch. She fumbles for her phone, flips on the flashlight. Out of curiosity, she checks her reception. No bars. Shocker. Still, if Calum’s tracking her, he’s gonna be scratching his head now.

It’s a fun thought, but she’s sure he’s busy. If something happens down here, she’s on her own.

Well. She’d better get moving, then.

The tunnel is cold, but the air is dry and musty, not wet with mold. Aspen doesn’t know if it’s her imagination or if there’s actually something scurrying around the darkness with her, but she tries not to panic. Rats are one step away from the lab mice she handles all the time, now, she can handle them. Even if they are the size of cats, like she’s heard. Oh, fuck. She really didn’t need to be thinking about that.

She should worry about how she was going to get out of here. She keeps a hand on the wall as she walked, so she didn’t get turned around in the darkness, even with the stark beam of the flashlight in front of her. These tunnels could quickly become catacombs. In fact, with Gotham’s history of crime, there were probably a few bodies rattling around here. Fuck. She really had to focus, Jesus. She couldn’t scare herself down here, where the air seemed to reach down her throat and pull moisture from her lungs. Fuck.

Aspen stopped and rubbed her head. She couldn’t personify the fucking darkness around her. That was how she scared herself stupid. That was how she got hurt.

Aspen keeps walking. She was careful to keep the flashlight beam trained ahead of her, avoiding stray rocks and the tracks. She wasn’t sure which rail was electrified, and she didn’t want to find out. It was quiet, thankfully. She starts humming, some pop hit she heard on the radio.

Her feet crunched along the ground more or less to the beat, and she kept on like that, for a while. She checked her phone for the time. It didn’t matter, she didn’t know where she was.

“’Cause you’ve been acting so conspicuous,” Aspen sings, enjoying the reverb as it dulls her fear a little. “You flip it on me, say I think too much, you’re moving different when we’re making... Fuck. ”

The tunnel split before her. Tracks curved to her right. On her left, the tunnel was strewn with even more debris. It could lead to the island surface, or it could be a dead end. Aspen knew, at least, where the tunnel on the right was heading. Aparo Park station wasn’t far from the river, and once she actually got to the island’s surface she was sure that she could find the massive asylum surrounded by cops easily enough.

She stands there for a second, staring at the tunnels. The tunnels stare back.

Fuck. She pictures the Gotham area in her head. The subway tunnels run to the left of the asylum, right? So she should go left. Wait, fuck, she had no idea where she was.

Aspen took another deep breath and tried to think. Was there another way she could figure out how close she was to the surface?

Ugh. She feels like a dumbass, but she sticks a finger in her mouth real quick to wet it and then holds it out, upright, to feel for a draft. She closes her eyes, even though it’s already dark as hell, and tries to focus.

Left. The left side is colder. Is she sure?

Well, what the hell, if it’s a dead end she’ll find out soon enough.

Aspen opens her eyes and starts down the left side. It quickly becomes much more challenging - there’s more rocks to avoid, and she tries not to think about what happens if she sprains her ankle down here. No room for error. No trips, no mistakes. If she makes it out of this Calum is going to have to acknowledge her. She’s doing good fucking work. She better get a fuckin’, fuckin’ Purple Heart.

But she made the right choice. Soon she can feel a draft on her face, and she can smell water. Maybe she’s on the wrong side of the river, but she doesn’t have to navigate the tunnel out of Aparo, at least. Encouraged, she moves even faster, jogging gently despite the weight of her bag.

It feels good. Somehow she didn’t think she’d get this far.

The wind picks up. Aspen rounds a corner to see her way out - the tunnel opens up into a concrete structure, long and low. It’s dark; there aren’t really any windows. The only way out she can see is right ahead, two big doors with a grate up top. She can see Gotham’s light pollution through the bars. She picks up a rock. She has a feeling that door’s not going to open easy.

She’s right. The door flexes when she shakes it, but there seems to be something on the outside keeping it closed. Fear grips her again. The door isn’t too thick; it feels like aluminum when she steps back. Aspen takes another look; there are rusty hinges on the inside, facing her. A plan takes shape in her mind almost instantly, and she kneels down and puts her phone carefully out of the way before smashing the rock down on the hinge closest to the floor. The sound of angry metals reverberates around the concrete structure, making her wince, but she hits it again, and then again before the metal starts to bend and shear away from the doorframe. Yes.

Aspen feels like a fucking caveman, and she’s sure that half the island can hear her, but she prays there’s enough chaos to cover the noise. With a little hard work, she manages to get the hinge off in twisted pile on the ground.

Okay. That’s step one.

Aspen grabs her phone to get it out of the way, stands up, and kicks at the newly freed corner of the door experimentally. It dents. Okay. Grabbing on to the wall for support, she kicks out again and again, wishing she had worn boots instead of sneakers. No matter. The door slowly crumples like paper, creating a space big enough for her to wiggle through, probably. Thank God for aluminum.

Aspen shakes off the backpack, clambers down on to her belly, and shoves it through the hole. The edges of the metal catch, and she has to push hard to get the bag through. This might hurt, she thinks, and then she drops her head and starts to squirm after her backpack. Metal scratches down her back, digging into her ass and her thighs, but once she stands she checks and her pants aren’t ripped. Not that it would matter. It’s such a casual worry for this night. It barely stings.

Fuck. She did it. She’s here! And she doesn’t have a fancy car or help from the cops or anything. Calum can eat her entire ass, oh my god.

A thought crosses her mind: if he’s not here she’s going to lose her shit.

Aspen makes herself regroup, turning off her flashlight, closing her eyes and breathing slow. She can hear sirens. So that’s where she’s heading next. Slowly, she opens her eyes, but she can’t see any lights to indicate the Asylum. No matter. She’ll find them.

She should get an update on the situation. She opens her phone, trying not to think about how it will fuck with her night vision to check this shit. She googles “updates gotham asylum” and skims the first page of results. The asylum is being searched for any remaining inmates where possible, where the plant growth isn’t too dangerous. The bulk of them are being temporarily removed to Blackgate. She’ll keep an eye out for any patients but as long as it’s not one of the serial killers she thinks she’ll be able to hold her own.

Maybe she’ll keep her rock, just in case.

The landscape of the island is mostly scrubby. There’s a utility road, or what’s left of one, leading out of the little valley with the abandoned tunnel. Maybe, back when the Gotham subway was being built, the asylum was going to be a stop. It makes Aspen feel a little weird, thinking about what could have been here other the facility and a sewage processing plant. Maybe if people lived here, if there was ice cream shops and shoe stores and a grocer’s, the people behind the walls wouldn’t feel so angry and alone.

She has to turn off the road to follow the sirens. The bushes smack into her arms, and she has to train her eyes carefully on the ground to keep from tripping. They’re moving, she realizes, not the branches but the cars, and she starts to run, looking for the road. The sirens are intermittent, like birds calling and responding.

The road appears quickly, and now she can see flashing lights bouncing off the trees and everything else. The cop cars are in motion; they seem to be escorting a bus full of prisoners somewhere, and she’s willing to bet where they’re leaving is where she wants to be.

It’s easy, from there. Aspen has been exiled for this, kept from everything she wanted, crawled through vinyl and dirt and rust for this. Finding the actual asylum is simple.

Arkham Asylum has big gates, really big Gothic ones. As Aspen gets closer, she realizes they’re closed. Well, maybe they’ll just let her in. She can’t be an inmate, they’d have to, obviously she’s on the wrong side of the fence.

If she hadn’t slowed down to take the asylum in, she wouldn’t have heard him. She has just come down to a walk when she heard the ground behind her crunch. Someone was there. She didn’t have time to think before she wheeled around, rock raised, ready to smash their fucking head in.

The Batman knocked her hand aside, sending the rock flying harmlessly out of her grip. Aspen grabbed her wrist stupidly as he looms over her. He looks so much bigger in that suit, devoid of all the tiny softnesses that made him recognizable as Calum. No wonder it took her so long to realize back at that construction site.

They’re both frozen for a while. All that time in the tunnel, and she still had no idea what to say to him.

“What do you think you’re doing.” He says, taking a step towards her. It’s not a question. Fuck, she’s in trouble

Aspen retreats, taking another step towards the gates. Her mind feels slow with nerves. “You wouldn’t let me see you in your office.”

It’s dark out, but she gets the feeling he rolls his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you I was trying to keep you safe? How did you even - it doesn’t matter. You’re leaving. Now.” Calum reaches out fast and grabs her bicep before she can move away. She feels like a kitten, and he’s got her by the scruff of her proverbial neck. He almost lifts her off her feet.

“No! Let me go.” Aspen kicks out for his shins, connects with armour. It hurts her more than it hurts him. He’s not listening.

“Don’t struggle.”

“I know how you can beat her! Calum, I -”

“That’s not my name. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Calum says, dragging her along. Aspen doesn’t know where he’s intending to put her, but she does know it’s not fucking happening. She’s staying.

“Burning the plants isn’t gonna work!” She yells. Fuck subtlety. Maybe Gordon will listen to her, if the cops find her before Calum puts her somewhere she can’t kick her way out of.

But, wonder of wonders, Calum stops. He freezes. Aspen’s dangling on her tiptoes, trying to balance herself. “I know that plant. It’s called jute and it’s gonna be super green. Burning it is gonna damage the asylum more than Pamela Ivey.” The cowl tilts. He’s listening. She tries to catch her breath. “Cold is gonna be way more effective. You fought that Professor Freeze -”

“Victor Fries.”

“Whatever. I mean, yeah.” Aspen covers quickly. She’s taking this seriously, she swears. “I’m willing to bet you have some of his cryogenic tech stored away. You can freeze the plants to keep them from growing more and maintain the structural integrity long enough to get any remaining inmates out. Then you might even be able to shatter them with that sonic blast thing you’re trying to sell to the military.”

Calum lowers his arm a little, and Aspen finds her footing again. “How did you know about all that?”

Aspen takes her chance, and yanks her arm out of his grip. It’s not as satisfying as it should be. They both know that he’s letting her break away. “Does it matter? I’m trying to fucking help you.” She says, taking a step out of his reach again. Her shoulder burns like the frusteration in the pit of her stomach.

“I don’t need your help.” The Batman turns his face away.

“Obviously you do.”

The cowl is pretty face-absorbing, but Aspen could swear she saw his jaw flex. “You’re a distraction. I can’t have you getting into trouble for me while I’m trying to save Gotham.”

“For you?” Aspen repeats. Fuck it, she is angry now, she gets into his space again. “You think I came all the fuckin’ way out here solely for your benefit?”

Lighting quick, he reaches out and grabs her face. She stills immediately, his eyes boring into hers. She doesn’t dare move. “Every time I look at you I see that cut you got trying to keep me safe. Do you know what that’s like?” Calum turns her head, forcing her to face the side. She can feel his eyes tracing the cut on her cheek. His grip on her jaw is dangerous - it’s barely not strong enough to hurt her. Just. He wants her to know how easily he could make this hurt.

Aspen doesn’t give a shit. She’s so mad her brain turns to angry static, and her mouth hangs open. How fucking dare he.

He pushes her so she stumbles back in her furious daze. “I’m not going to let that happen again. Now, you can go quietly into a cop car and get a nice ride home, or I can -”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“What?”

“You’re an asshole.” Aspen repeats. Her hand flies to her face, tracing the ridges of the raised scar. “You think I did this for you? God, you’re so fucking selfish.” He is quiet. Not that she notices. She’s too mad to think about what he’s doing. She just wants him to hurt.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” She laughs. “I kept my mouth shut because I knew that the second I talked, they were gonna kill me. That’s all. I wasn’t trying to keep you safe, you jackass. I was trying to save my life. God,” she mocks his voice, “do I know what that’s like. It’s my fucking face! How do you think I feel!” She’s shaking. She has to catch her breath. She hasn’t been so angry in a long time.

The mask remains impassive, but - “I’m sorry.” He says. Aspen blinks. It sounds weird, in his Batman rasp.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry it’s such a fucking burden for you to look at me. What a martyr. Thank God you’re around to make these difficult fucking choices for me, right?” She snaps at him.

“I’m sorry.” Calum says through gritted teeth. Aspen’s not worried. As if his anger could catch up to hers. “Listen, this isn’t the time.”

“I’m not gonna give you the chance to kick me out again. Every time you see me you’re trying to make it the last time and you know what? I’m fucking sick of it!” She shakes her head, as if that will clear it. “You should have let me help when I offered in the first place.”

Calum shakes his head. “No.” He says, simply.

“Fuck you.” Aspen snaps, dropping her backpack off her back. She had never wanted to shake the sense into someone before, but she was about to try. That was worth losing her protection for. Let her get shot. Obviously he would feel it more, that fucking asshole.

“Go home.” Calum says, looking around. The gates of the asylum loom up behind him. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“If I’m not halfway to Central City by then!”

Calum’s face is inches from hers. “Aspen. Thank you for your help. Now, get off this island before you get hurt again.”

Aspen shakes her head. She makes herself take a deep breath. It stills something inside her, and she can finally properly look at him. Calum’s eyes are dark in the sockets of his mask, and his chest is heaving. He’s mad, too. Goddamn, they keep fucking doing this to themselves.

He’s so close she can smell that cologne he uses, even through the suit. They both realize how close they are at the same moment, but neither one steps back. Aspen is suddenly waiting for him to kiss her, but all he does is let out a little sigh. He doesn’t move. Not an inch.

“I have to do everything myself, don’t I?” She says, and then she grabs that stupid fucking cowl and yanks him in and kisses him.

Maybe he lets her drag him in, or maybe he’s surprised. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s kissing her back ferociously, pressing his tongue at the seam of her lips almost immediately. Aspen opens her mouth so he can feel her teeth. Her fingernails find seams in his armour and she drags herself closer, pressing her body against his. His hand finds the soft place above her hip and he digs his fingers in, pulling her closer. Calum pushes back; he presses in, kissing her so hard she has to tilt her head back and cling to him to stand upright. His teeth dig into her bottom lip, and Aspen’s body jolts as he pulls back slowly, until she feels like her whole body is going to snap. When he lets go suddenly and lets her lip fall back into place, they stare at each other, chests heaving, sharing a breath in the tiny space.

“Fuck,” Calum growls, and he grabs her thighs, lifting her and pressing her against one of the brick pillars by the gate so fast the air is knocked out of her lungs. He kisses her hard, fingers digging into her thighs as he tries to devour her. Aspen whimpers into his mouth, she can’t help it. She wants to be able to pull his hair. She wants to feel him so bad. Calum kisses like a tsunami, all overwhelming force like he’s trying to knock her over and over until she doesn’t know which way is up. Usually Aspen has tricks, she kisses like she’s trying to hint at what else her mouth is good at. This time there’s none of that. She just has to cling to him, wrap her legs around his waist and let his lips envelop her.

She wraps her arms around his neck and grinds down on him as they kiss, feeling short of breath in the best fucking way. Calum’s hands move up to her ass, helping her roll her body against his. Aspen doesn’t know how this happened and she doesn’t fucking care, she just wants to kiss him forever. God, she wishes she could feel him. All of him.

When Calum pulls back, she doesn’t care, she chases his mouth until he grabs her hair to keep her from getting caught up in another kiss. She whines, and when she opens her eyes he’s smirking at her. That’s mean. She squirms against him, mouth half open, knowing she’s desperate and not fucking caring. Calum makes a small sound, a fond one, she thinks, even though it’s weird hearing tenderness come from him, from the Batman, and he leans in again -

Aspen jumps when the sound of metal shrieks out behind her. The gates are opening. Batman moves fast - he moves back so she drops down from where he had her pinned, and tucks her under his arm as a cop car, lights flashing, pulls through the gate. “Wait,” Aspen says, as he pulls her towards the road. The car’s stopped in front of them. He’s trying to kick her out again. “Wait, please, I want to stay.” It sounds pathetic in her own ears as the officer steps out.

Calum ignores her. “Take this civilian back to the city centre. She’s in danger.” He orders the cop, grabbing her by the shoulder to pull her out from the security of his chest. His thumb is on her spine.

“No, I’m not - I’m not going!” Aspen cries, but this cop obviously is on the Batman’s side, he grabs her other arm and helps pull her away.

“Miss, miss, come on, let’s get you out of -”

“I need to stay!” Aspen says, turning to him wild-eyed. “I’m here to help, please -” She turns around to plead with Calum again, and he’s just gone. The ground where he stood is empty. A disappearing act. It shocks her so much she goes still and stops fighting the cop.

He left her. Again.

The officer isn’t as impressed as she at the Batman’s little trick. He’s still tugging at her. Aspen gives in quietly, numbly lets him get her in the backseat of his car. Her mouth is still wet from his kisses. She had really thought she was going to win this one. She didn’t even get to see Poison Ivy!

Pushed to the side again. She was starting to get used to it.

The cop asked her a few conversational questions, in a friendly sort of way. He knows the officers from her last ride in a cop car. She’s famous, almost. Aspen didn’t answer him except to tell him where to drop her off. She felt sick. It should have been raining; she should have been soaked and shivering, making the scene even more pathetic. But no, the stars were stubbornly out, and she could see them even through the bars.

“See that?” The cop says.

Aspen didn’t respond.

“‘S one of the Bat’s drones. He uses them for bringing in artillery.”

Aspen looks, even though she tries not to do it too obviously. Something does wizz over the car. Maybe that’s the freeze gun. Maybe she did help.

Well, it’s gonna be the last fucking contribution she ever makes in Gotham.

Calum’s not going to let her stay, now. She’s proven herself to be too much trouble. Aspen’s heart aches. Fuck, she has got to stop kissing him. It never seems to end well.

Also, cop car back seats are fucking uncomfortable. She couldn’t have sat in the front this time?

“Oh, sh- hey, I forgot my backpack. We need to go back.” Aspen realized. Stupid.

The cop just shakes his head. “No can do, miss. You heard the Bat. We’ll find a way to get it back to you later.” She slumps back into the plastic back seat, kicking herself for leaving her backpack behind.

Aspen doesn’t offer herself the wild hope that she’ll be allowed to stay. What had Calum said that day in her office, again? What were the terms of her exile? They were still pretending she didn’t know, then, so there was nothing explicit, but she’s pretty sure that vandalizing a subway car, trespassing through the tunnels under the island, and running all over Arkham Island is in violation of her parole.

Aspen doesn’t cry until she’s safely at home. She shuts the door to the apartment and leans against it and she can’t move, she just stands there and cries silently until she can move apart her apartment, face twisted with tears, and shuck off her clothes to shower. Dirt swirls around the drain. Fuck, she has an early morning tomorrow. Her last morning, probably. It hurts her to think how easily Calum can make her disappear out here.

She checks the news, standing in her towel in the bathroom after fishing her phone out of her pocket. Poison Ivy has been recaptured. It doesn’t feel like a triumph.

She collapses into bed, muscles grateful, but it takes her a long, long time to fall asleep.

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

Aspen hums to the mice. Take Good Care of My Baby. It’s a cute little 50s tune. Yes, she knows it’s stupid, the mice aren’t her babies, but she’s feeling fucking sentimental, alright, it’s probably her last day.

She hates saying goodbye to places. It feels like Goodnight Moon. She says a fond farewell to every sink, every coat rack, even the counter she banged her hip on every other day. She’s just cleaning up when she hears Ashton come in, yelling her name, and she braces herself for the worst kind of parting.

“Mac, where are you? Oh, still with the mice.” Ashton comes in, practically panting. “I just got off the phone with Mr. Hood. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving us?”

No. God, her stomach sinks. He must be really pissed, if he didn’t have the decency to tell her himself she was being transferred. Fuck. “I’m really sorry.” Aspen says, turning to face him. “If I had known sooner, I would have told you. I never wanted to leave you shorthanded.”

“No, no.” Ashton says, smiling. Aspen’s heart squeezes in her chest. He’s glad to get rid of her. Fuck, was she really that much of a burden after the incident? “Don’t worry about us. Holy shit!” He hugs her. Aspen would hug him back, only she’s kind of in a state of shock. She hadn’t realized her recent work was that bad. “You’re gonna come visit us, right?”

“...I mean, as often as I can, it’s just kinda far.”

Ashton laughed again, and actually leaned back to pick her up and spin her around. “Kinda far, she says. You deserve this, Mac.” He says, once he sets her down. “I’m so proud of you.” He holds her at arm’s length. He is beaming.

Wait, what the fuck? “Thanks.” Aspen mumbled as an afterthought. She doesn’t know what’s going on. “What, uh, what exactly did Mr. Hood tell you about?”

“Your lab.” Ashton blinks at her. “The lab you’re heading. You’re supposed to be meeting him there any minute now. I just wanted to congratulate you before you headed up.”

What? “I, uh, just wanted to make sure I could tell you everything. He told me to, um, just kind of, kind of keep everything under wraps until it was all official. I didn’t want to jinx anything.” Aspen steps out of Ashton’s range, moving around him quickly, peeling off her lab coat. She has to get up there. She checks her phone; nothing. Another test. “I better head up. I’ll be down soon, alright? I’ll be right back.” She says, as if that will make it true.

“Yeah, of course. Good luck, Mac. I mean, I’m sure you won’t need luck, you’ve already got the lab, but -” Aspen walks out on him as he continued on. It’s rude of her. She didn’t care. She worried her hands as she headed for the elevator.

Where the fuck was she even going? Aspen got in the elevator, mercifully empty, and stared at the panel for a moment. What floor were the Hood Tech labs on again? She knows she’s not nearly of that caliber, but it’s her best bet. Aspen hits the button and prays as the door closes. She counts the floors, like it’s some strange countdown to a bomb detonating. Calum wouldn’t get Ashton to lie to her about a lab, he wouldn’t hurt her like that. Was this her transfer? Was that what it was? Was he meeting with her to give her this pretty consolation prize? What if she’s not even going to the right spot?

Aspen shuffles back as the elevator fills and empties, like the tides. She has a long way to go, a long vertical ride for her to chew on her lip and wrestle with her hands. It feels like ages later when she steps out of the elevator, alone, on the Hood Tech landing.

Calum is there.

“You found me,” He says, smiling, and Aspen can’t believe it. She’s actually incredulous. He’s never smiled at her like that - all sunny and unguarded like nothing’s happened. Like they’re both unscarred.

Aspen just nods. She doesn’t know what it’s safe to say yet. Calum can see how worried she is, and he puts a big hand on her shoulder to soothe her.

Out of all the freaky shit Aspen’s seen since she came into his office, this might top everything.

“I need to thank you for your help last night.” He says as he starts to guide her down the hall.

Okay, that’s now the freakiest.

Aspen doesn’t peek into the doors around her, this time. She keeps her eyes on him. “You thanked me then.” She says, cautiously. So they can just… talk about this? They can just do that?

“Not properly.” He’s excited - Aspen has to hurry to keep up with him again. “Your strategy was invaluable. I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner, but - and how did you even get on the island?”

He’s beaming. That’s the word she’s looking for, Calum is beaming. Aspen feels it on her skin like the sun. “Subway tunnel.”

He shakes his head. “I thought so.” Grinning, he stops at a closed door and waves a key card in front of a sensor. A light turns green and he pushes the door open. “I arranged something for you. As a thank you.” He keeps looking at her, like an expectant kid watching someone open a present. This is for you”

It really is a lab. Well, not yet, but it will be. There are benches and monitors and it’s all white and clean, waiting for her to fill it with what she needs to save her corner of the world. Aspen’s not being sent away. She’s not going anywhere. She gets to stay. She gets all this.

She should say something. She can feel Calum looking at her expectantly, and she fucking hopes he can see the joy shining on her face, but she can’t think of what to say. “...I thought you were transferring me.” She says after a moment. Wait, no, that’s not what she means. She turns to face him properly. “I mean, thank you. Thank you so much.”

Calum squeezes her shoulder gently. His hand starts to wander up a little more, fingers just brushing the edges of the skin of her neck exposed by her shirt. Aspen tries not to think about it. “You deserve it. Just let me know what you need, I’ll see to it for you. I didn’t know what equipment you’d need, but -”

“It’s perfect.” Aspen says. “Don’t worry about it. It’s perfect.” She wants to kiss him. Fuck, she can’t say enough how much this means to her, she wants to show him. She holds off, though. She can’t fuck this up now.

But she can’t wait. She settles for throwing her arms around him in a hug, and with his lightning fast reflexes Calum hugs her back, folds her into his chest and rests his head on hers like he was waiting for this. If he was waiting, she wouldn’t have been mad. He could be one step ahead of her on this one.

Too soon, he pulls back, but he keeps his hands on her so she faces him square. He checks over his shoulder to make sure the door is closed, face sober for a second, then - “This support isn’t conditional on you working with me as… As Batman.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’d really appreciate it if you considered -”

“Yes.” Aspen says, too fast. She laughs at herself nervously. This is incredible. “I mean, I fuckin’ considered it pretty hard last night, if we’re speaking freely, sir.”

Calum laughs at that, ducking his head. When he raises it, Aspen shifts in his arms; he’s looking at her so tenderly she can’t breathe. “There are a few conditions.” He says, once he’s caught his breath and found a way to arrange his face into something other than a grin. He pulls away, trying to take on the Calum-Hood-CEO pose she’s seen him do in so many meetings. His stern face isn’t entirely convincing. Aspen loves it.

“Hit me.”

“I- okay.” Calum chuckles again before getting himself back under control. “The big thing is you don’t come into the field with me. That’s non-negotiable. I’ll give you a direct comm link to me at all times, whatever you want, but I am not putting you in the line of fire. Don’t start.” He warns as Aspen opens her mouth to protest. He’s really stern, now. He means this one.

She closes her mouth. “Fine.”

Calum gives her a look that is so unbearably soft she thinks she might fall apart. “You train every day with me at the manor.” He continues. “Every day. You also need to be available at all times. If I call, you head straight here, no questions asked. You can pursue any research you want in your spare time, but if you take this on I’d expect your priority to be supporting me.”

Any research? Aspen’s heart almost jumps out of her throat. This is worth the bloodshed. This is worth every sleepless night. And he’s finally gonna let her do her work. “I - yes. Of course.” She says, nodding seriously despite the happiness bubbling inside her.

“You should take your time with this choice.”

It sounds like Calum is trying to warn her, but Aspen doesn’t give a shit. “With all due respect, Cal, you couldn’t keep me away from this if you tried.” She says, stepping into the lab to explore in case he decides to try and drag her out. “And, in fact, you have. And it didn’t work out for you.”

“Don’t be smug.” Calum says behind her. He’s smiling. She can hear it. It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“I’m right, though.” Aspen says, pulling a wheely-chair out from a desk experimentally. Her backpack is placed on her seat. Her backpack! “Oh my god, you brought my bag in for me?” She says, turning around to face him.

“Yeah, what were you doing at Arkham Asylum with a biochemistry textbook?” Calum asks, tilting his head to the side as he walks over.

“It was supposed to help if anyone shot at me from behind.” Calum snorts out a laugh, and doesn’t try to hide it. Mean, she thinks fondly. “Hey, listen, we don’t all have multi-million dollar corporations behind us to make custom suits or whatever.” She pouts, but he just laughs again and walks towards her.

“I’ll order you a bulletproof backpack.”

“Oh, you can actually do that?”

“Sir.” He reminds her, but he’s smiling, like it’s an inside joke.

Aspen shakes her head and grins. “Oh, fuck off, we’re way past that, sir.”

Calum grabs the backpack out of her hands and before it hits the floor he is kissing her. He grabs her hips, pressing her back against the desk as his tongue curls languidly into her mouth. Aspen’s body melts into his and she finally, finally gets to weave her fingers into his hair and tug on it gently. Calum kisses like a fucking dream like this, all unhurried and so happy his lips are always in danger of stiffening into a smile. Aspen loves it.

When Calum pulls away, he rests his forehead against hers. His lips are parted, and Aspen knows if she tries she can dart in and kiss him again. But she resists that urge; she stays still. She doesn’t want to make a sudden move and have him pull away again. And after a long moment, Calum connects their lips again. His thumbs dig into the soft areas above her hips, but this kiss is short, it’s sweet. He pulls away, far enough that she can see it clearly when he smiles at her.

But then he hesitates.

“I don’t - I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to do this.”

Fuck that. He kissed her this time. Aspen’s had enough of this. “Then let me go.”

He doesn’t.

They’re quiet for a few moments more. Aspen takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want to be a woman who just bends over backward for someone, asks for nothing and starves. But right now, this is what she wants. She likes that he’s the only one who can keep up with her, the only person who makes her feel so unsteady, free even if it’s free-fall.

“Hey,” she says, quietly, “I don’t expect ‘normal’ from you. I know what the reality of this is. I don’t need any promises, I don’t want you to feel like I’m your weakness, but - don’t keep pushing me away. Either cut this off right now, or just - let me keep kissing you. But don’t leave me hanging here. One or the other. Please.”

Calum’s still holding her hips as he looks at her. For once, Aspen doesn’t feel afraid. No matter what comes next, she knows she can take it. Fuck, she spent all that time alone chained to a chair, she can cut Calum out of her heart easy now that she’s been through that.

And she knows she can handle his love.

Calum leans in again, but Aspen lets go of his hair to put a hand to his chest, stopping him even as his lips puckered. “Don’t.” She says, meeting his eyes. “Don’t kiss me if it’s gonna be a goodbye.”

He swallows hard. Aspen can see his Adam’s apple bob. He reaches up to cup her face, running his thumb along the scar on her cheek. She jolts. She’s never let anyone touch her there. No one who knew her, no one who wasn’t wearing gloves. His touch is gentle, his hand warm. She swears she can feel the ridges of his fingertips.

Calum kisses her, and God, it feels good.

“You gave me a heart attack. You scared me.” She jokes when he pulls away, and he laughs, throwing his head back. His eyes shine when he looks back at her.

“I didn’t mean to - Listen, I really have to go, I have meetings all morning, but I’ll come see you after. We need to get you set up as soon as possible, alright, Penny?”

How long had he been thinking about calling her that? Aspen doesn’t care. Well, maybe she did. She could ask now. She doesn’t have to pretend so much anymore. “How long have you been thinking about calling me that?” She asks, tilting her head.

He rolls his eyes at her, looking away like he’s embarrassed to be asked. Her heart swells. Fuck, he’s perfect. “Too long. You don’t mind it?” Calum asks finally. He means it, he’s unsure. She can see it in his eyes.

“No one calls me that. It’s… kinda sweet.” She says, and she means it, too.

“It suits you.” He says, squeezing her hip before letting her go to head for the door. “Listen, I’ll bring lunch from that place you like when I come back?”

This is how it ends, then. He leaves her alone to sort out the lab, sort out everything. Aspen’s not totally naive; they’ll talk business at lunch, and then they’ll talk pleasure. She’s willing to bet Calum will have come up with a crazy list of rules by then, try to polarize this. She can take him, though. She can take him. After that, more work, and then there will be a date, or maybe not. He’ll probably get all dressed up tonight, in a suit of one sort or another.

What the hell, she can’t predict how her days are going to go from here on out. The thought kinda thrills her. She just smiles around her empty lab and starts to get to work.

But that’s not how it all ends.

The adventures of Calum and Aspen will continue in “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat”, coming soon to a blog near you!

#that's my big project #and yes it is stupid #and yes it was dumb of me to tease it #and no i don't give a fuck #my writing #twdk #twdk12 #5sos series #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer series #calum hood fic #calum hood series #ch blurb #batman!au #ceo!cal

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incoherentbabblings · 5 years

Text

On the Twelfth Day (2/2)

AO3 Link Here. TimSteph Christmas Fluff.

-7-

Fancy dinner did not occur. Or rather, they had their starter, but a certain Robin bird crashing through the crystal domed ceiling had put an end to the dinner, and they had rushed out to change and help against Mr Freeze who was having a whale of a time in central Gotham. Stephanie had slipped at one point on a mountain of ice, and had bruised her spine in the fall. She lay on the sofa in the manor, Tim sat on the floor in front of her at quarter to twelve, whilst the family were out cleaning up the mess Freeze had left behind. They watched as the countdown began. Steph jolted as her memory was triggered by the sight of Gotham’s clocks.

“Oh! Tim, my handbag. I was going to give you my present at dinner. Open it before midnight! Hurry!”

He crawled over, having changed from one formal suit to his super suit to his jammies, and tugged over her little brown bag.

She watched, more nervous than she had been with any of the other gifts, worried about what he would think.

“A watch?” His voice wasn’t offended, thank God, but she still felt the need to justify.

“I just thought… I know Bruce gave you one, and you have your dad’s, so okay, maybe you don’t also need one from me, I mean it’s not as fancy…”

He kissed her, long and sweet, using whatever he could to distract her from her worries. “Fancy doesn’t matter. This is one I can wear everyday, tell people my girlfriend bought me it.” He turned just as on the tv the clock stroke midnight. “Ah! Happy New Year.”

Stephanie pressed kisses to the back of his head, his damp hair smelling sweet from the bath they’d shared earlier. “Happy New Year.”

Tim put on the watch, setting it to midnight, and kissed Stephanie again.

-8-

“Not very exciting this time I’m afraid honey.” Tim mumbled. He was buried under the bed covers, not really wiling to get up and start the day. He waved vaguely over in the direction of the wardrobe.

“Implying that I don’t love chocolates… false.” Stephanie shuffled over, settling on the bed next the lump under the duvet that was her boyfriend. Wincing with her back pain, she began to stuff her face with the selection box. She looked down at Tim and smiled.

“Timmy, open up.”

Tim poked his head out from the covers, dark hair ruffled with sleep. She popped a chocolate into his mouth, watching him smile, then disappear back under the covers.

-9-

“Catch!”

In the cave, Stephanie threw a large wicker basket at Tim, which he managed to grab hold of before it hit his head. He swayed at the weight of it. Stephanie trotted over, fully in costume, whilst Tim had yet to put in his mask. Tim turned and rested the basket on a nearby table. Opening the flaps, he went to peer in, but Damian appeared, shoving Tim out the way.

“Honey? Really Brown? You raid a farm or something?”

“Damian!” Dick pulled Damian’s judgemental look and stature away from the pair, shooting an apologetic look at them.

“He’s not totally wrong.” Stephanie sighed. “It is a lot of farm stuff. Hamper food.”

Tim began rummaging through the tissue, pulling out jars of chutney’s and jams and cheese and dried fruits. Two small bottles of beer were also nestled in.

“Steph…”

“I know the weather has been… pure shit. And there isn’t really anywhere we can go but…”

“We can go to SanFran.” Tim looked at her, eyes smiling. “Next weekend, before college starts up again. Conner says it’s been dry. Not warm. It never really is over there but…” He trailed off and looked at Steph, still facing forwards. “You’ve never spent more than a night at the tower have you?”

“No.”

“Well you have right to. It’ll be nice!” He squeezed her hand reassuringly at her nervous look. “This is really sweet Steph, thank you.”

“You can thank Conner and Kara, half this stuff is from Kansas!”

-10-

The Fourth of January was more than a little stressful, Tim had had an awkward conversation with both Crystal and Bruce (and Alfred, hovering like a bee) which had led to Dick swamping Tim in the manor corridors.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii know what you’ve done! Gonna tell Cass!” He sang, smiling so broadly that Tim became faintly petrified of Dick’s teeth being put on display. Immediately alarmed, he began to slap Dick on the arms, legs and gut, as if that would shut him up.

“What do you know?” Tim hissed. Dick just laughed and sprinted away. Tim gave chase, throwing himself onto his elder brother’s back. He clung tight, and began to tug at Dick’s perfectly curled hair. “How did you find out? What are you? Psychic?”

“Just nosy!” Dick spun in a circle bent in half, Tim hanging off his back like a monkey.

“Don’t say anything!” Clinging tight and trying to choke Dick from behind, Tim entered a blinding panic. No-one was supposed to know!

“Oh, come on! You have so little trust?”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and you know it!”

“Who’s dumb?”

Steph appeared out of Cass’s room, several strings of strawberry laces hanging from her mouth being chewed obnoxiously, curious at the racket. Tim leaped off Dick’s back like he was made of fire.

“Nothing! C’mon, I was grabbing you for your present.”

Stephanie smiled, shoving the rest of the candy into her mouth. Waving goodbye to Dick, who waved glibly back, Tim watched with horror as he snuck into Cassandra’s room, no doubt to gossip.

Goddammit.

Pulling her into his room, Tim rushed to the bed, then held out a large picture frame, nearly as wide as his arm berth. She took it gratefully and looked at the collage Tim had compiled. It was many candids and posed shots of her, Tim, their friends and family. From them aged fifteen, to photos Tim had taken just the other day with his new camera, it was their lives together compiled into one frame. There was a gap of about two years in their mid-teens, but otherwise, it was all their history in one frame.

She set it back down on Tim’s bed. Pointing at one image of them when they were younger, their cheeks pressed together, Tim half out the frame, but they looked so young, so fresh.

“That’s mine. I had a bunch posted above my bed… Did you take them?”

“I ‘borrowed’ them, made copies for this. Your mom helped.”

Stephanie nodded approvingly. “Ahhhh, I see. Going behind my back now is she?”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Tim teased.

Stephanie huffed, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “This is unbearably sentimental Tim. Thank you. But just wait until tomorrow.”

-11-

Tim had been hurt this time. A sprained ankle which had swollen up to an impressive size. He’d hurt it catching some poor kid jumping out of a building to escape a fire. The rice treatment had ensued. Rest, ice, compression and elevation. It as an old rule, but it was one Alfred stood firmly by. He had dozed off, waiting for Stephanie to return from patrol. Their plans to go to San Francisco had been delayed, since Tim was going to need the week to recover. Stephanie had tired not to let her disappointment leak through. These sorts of things were bound to happen, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not truly.

She stared at a sleeping Tim, his skin looking warm in the lamp light. She then looked down at the package in her hand and decided to unwrap it for him. This one she had been working on for over a month, and it had become increasingly tricky to hide it from Tim due it’s ever growing size.

Unravelling the hand knitted blanket, she sat down on the sofa next to Tim, and spread it over them both. Tucking it under his chin, she settled into his side, and shut her eyes.

When Tim started awake later from a vague and fuzzy nightmare, he woke to the rain on the windows, the room softly lit, and his girlfriend resting at his side. His foot had flopped down off the table when he had jerked, so wincing he raised it once more to the table. Noticing then the blanket she had thrown over them, Tim picked absently at the thread, noticing almost immediately that this was a new one, and although it was neat, it wasn’t as uniform as what a machine would do.

He knew she had been working on something. He’d seen the receipts from different craft shops across Gotham, but he’d assumed it was something for herself, or maybe the other Batgirls.

The blanket was a deep gem blue, and as large as the sofa. Not only that, it wasn’t just one large square, she had done different stitches along the rims and even a circular pattern in the centre. She had worked extremely hard on this, in between college and Batgirl-ing and Stephanie Brown-ing.

Tim shifted his arms, wrapping them tight around Stephanie under the fabric. She sighed happily in her sleep, and nuzzled into his chest.

“Love you.” He murmured.

Even in sleep, Stephanie smiled.

-12-

Taking down the decorations was always intensely depressing. It meant there was no more twinkling lights or shiny paper to catch the winter light (what little there existed of it in Gotham). No, now the grim winter had truly begun.

Tim was still sat on the sofa, carefully wrapping the decorations in tissue and bubble wrap. Amongst them was Steph’s first gift of the robins. He stared at the chubby pair hard, then set them aside. They cold stay out until Spring at least. He occasionally side glanced at Stephanie getting into an argument with two sets of Christmas lights. One set she was wearing on her head and shoulders, the other tangled around her arms and outstretched legs on the floor. She huffed and puffed and cursed. He tried not to laugh, as that might have set her temper off properly, which was the last thing he wanted for today.

“Tim? Change the music? The bass is too much and…” And she continued to grumble to herself, tugging unnecessarily hard on to lights that had crossed over each other and gotten tangled.

Tim called for his speaker to switch radio stations, flipping to a classical music channel. To his relief, it was playing a soft piano tune, and Stephanie’s grumbling lessened in response.

They worked in silence for a moment, and Tim was struck by how peaceful it felt, how domestic. Safe.

Putting the lid on one of the storage boxes, Tim noticed his hands were shuddering. His nerves were kicking in.

“Stephie? Can I borrow you for a sec?”

Always weak to him calling her that, and somewhat relieved to be distracted from the lights, she leaped upwards. “Is it your ankle? Need a cold press?”

“No, no. Just, can you swap the boxes for me? Done with that one.”

She did as she was bid, but before she could replace the box with an empty one on the seat, Tim tugged her down.

Thinking he wanted a kiss, she swiftly leaned in for a smooch.

Not wanting to jostle his foot too much, she clambered onto him, finding she was sorely needing an unscheduled make out session to vent her stress.

She felt his hands twitch. One held her neck, the other had drifted downwards, fumbling around his hoodie.

“Steph.” He broke away, bringing his hand up to her cheek. He suddenly looked horrendously nervous, which only served to make Stephanie on edge. He gulped, then squeezed his other hand in between their chests. “Steph… your last present… you don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, you’re not ready, or… or if you don’t feel the same way…” The sadness that permeated his expression broke her heart as she began to understand what was happening. What the point of the twelve days of Christmas gift exchange was for. A ploy really, a stinkingly sweet plot.

Tim popped the tiny black box open to reveal an engagement ring. It was one of those rings that looked like it were three, crossing over in the middle, one filled with round diamonds, the other rubies, the final a plain band of white gold. Stephanie had pianist’s fingers, long and thin with bumpy knuckles, and Tim had spent an embarrassingly long time deciding what would look good on Stephanie. When he had spoken to Crystal the other day, to try and be good as ask her permission, Crystal had only pursed her lips at the sight of the ring, face giving nothing away. She did say yes to Tim asking, so that was something. The very same day he had also spoken to Bruce, for whatever reason Tim couldn’t recall. Just a small part of him that still craved Bruce’s approval, which, to Tim’s utter shock, he had given.

He had done one thing though, which had ticked Tim off at the time. Bruce had hummed at the sight of the ring and suggested that Tim could have gone bigger. Tim must have looked so offended that Bruce quietly corrected himself and said it would probably do. Tim was old enough now to know when Bruce was being deliberately cruel and when he had just put his foot in it. The guilty look on Bruce’s face suggested the latter and Tim tried to quell his feelings of inadequacy.

Now, with Stephanie’s eyes growing wet and her mouth smiling, he thought the ring was indeed fit for purpose.

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

Tears dropped down her cheeks, and her eyeliner began to run horribly.

“You want to marry me? For real?”

God they were both insecure as anything. Tim had been petrified of the concept of her saying no, she had seemingly not expected him to ever ask, to even want to ask.

“Stephie, I wouldn’t… I do. For real.”

“Me too!” She sobbed. She nodded again and again. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Tim fumbled taking the ring out of the box, sliding it onto her finger. He struggled a bit at getting it past her lower knuckle, but once it got past it fit neatly around her ring finger. Stephanie laughed, tilting her hand in the light to see it glitter. More tears dripped down her face, then she kissed Tim once more, happier than she’d ever been.

“Rubies?” She asked, pressing their foreheads together

“Thought amethysts might be too on the nose.”

“Red for you then?”

“For Robin. Both of us.”

Another kiss. “Utter charmer.” She murmured, settling in on his lap. Tim picked up her hand, and began fiddling with her finger and ring, smug as anything that she was wearing it. That she had said yes.

“Last day to say it Tim… Merry Christmas.”

“Heh. Merry Christmas.”

#dc #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #my fic tag

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shesquiinnsane-ar · 5 years

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The city's on fire, the streets are a riot Now look at this place, no one is safe No one is safe from you

{ triggers throughout: violence, suicide mention }

OFF HER ROCKER. Guy had had enough of his fiancée’s antics. She’d been out of sorts for a while. Having met in college they’d been in each other's lives for at least a decade even if they had only recently tried to make it together. After hitting thirty, the world seemed to change, wanted to force you to settle down and sort out your life. He couldn’t explain it but things were different now. Maybe it was the city, constantly evolving but it had been stagnant. The engagement had happened within months and as quick as that high came it left. Harleen lost her job and didn’t seem to be coping well with that fact. She’d had mentioned several times in recent weeks, that she thought the world was mad and in a way it was. But she really meant it. In a “let’s blow it up and start again” kind of way. Guy believed she needed help, but when she helped people herself it was hard to know where to go. She could flip it back, undo everything. She had to want to come back. He was losing her, and that was dangerous. Like an iced up water pipe she was under pressure and set to burst. He had to comfort her, bringing flowers and a box of her favourite chocolates he hoped to cheer her up. There was enough alcohol in the house already and that was without adding his Think Drink into the mix. It kept Guy Kopski calm under pressure, the only decent thing he ever managed to put together and bringing them to the market meant he was finally on the up. He just had to find a way to bring Harleen with him before she fell too far.

She watched him enter her apartment, through the strands of hair that fell in front of her face. A client had just left her apartment and she had no planned visitors. It was all she could do to stay afloat in her mind, keep her patients happy. After the cuts to the social psychiatrists, Harleen had taken a huge emotional hit. There wasn’t in her job now but worse, or better in some cases, the world was opening up was telling her that it was changing. Maybe it wasn’t because it wanted to, but because it had to. Life was meant to be perfect, you fell in love, picked a partner, got married and kept things afloat. It seemed only one of those things were planned for in Harleen’s life. In her own eyes she wouldn’t have called it love. Gotham wasn’t really a city made for love. It clearly didn’t even appreciate the fact she’d loved her job. In an attempt to compose herself she wiped her eyes with her finger, a black smudge running down it now from her mascara. It was hard not feeling yourself anymore, everything before now seemed oddly fitting but all the little ill-fitting pieces were falling apart. She needed something new, an insight into life to keep her going. Maybe she could get some insight from the radio, since she couldn’t afford all it took to get a tv in her apartment that worked well enough to warrant its own existence. Radio’s were far easier to maintain.

Placing the chocolates on her He reached out to turn off the radio, hoping it would snap her out of it. Deciding to hold it, he had control over when it would be turned back on. He needed that control so she’d listen. Then he put on his best, softer smile, trying to be the doting husband-to-be to his failing fiancée ❝ You know having that on repeat is just dangerous, Harleen. ❞

Harleen. Like she was stuck to that name for life. She was down, but it didn’t make her stupid. There were a million different ways to kill yourself in one room, just because Harleen didn’t want to do that didn’t mean the room wasn’t dangerous. ❝ Isn’t everything dangerous? That’s why they keep those who are most dangerous to society in padded cells. It’s not always physically dangerous to others though. You know not everyone I used t’ see was totally crazy. ❞ Just by saying that she sounded crazy herself but for some she was society's last hope of not falling into Arkham General. Not everyone deserved to go there, but that last line of defence had been taken away. Now many weren’t going to be given a choice, just swept up with the rest of the rats and garbage in Gotham, just dumped.

He could tell her thoughts were wondering, ❝ Stop thinking now Harleen. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. It isn’t your job to. Maybe you should consider taking something, block it out. Maybe an SSRI will help you get back up to where you were. ❞

❝ A lot were misled made to believe the miracle of the little happy pills because it was better for everyone else. Be pmuch fucking easier to numb all the emotions so I could marry yas right? Better for you, better for society. Sick of all this greater good, bullshit. What about what I want in this shit ass world! ❞

❝ Harleen, please. ❞

❝ Don’t Harleen me again. Amount o’ times dad said it drunk whilst tryna ‘convince’ me he was gonna be better makes me sick.❞ Almost protective of the radio, she grabbed it from him, hoping that would end the argument but as he thought it only fueled her more. As flicked it back on, the music she’d been listening to stopped as an emergency broadcast.

❝ People have been taking to the streets, roads have been closed as a man in a clown mask has been reported to have killed three of Gotham’s most wealthy. Three employees of Wayne Enterprises, who names have not yet been released have been shot dead in one of Gotham’s own subway stations. The cause is not yet understood to be known. More information as it comes in. ❞

It sounded like the microphone had been taken over as the crowds at the scene gathered, chanting for change, Harleen wasn’t listening to the words, she could feel them in her heart. Gotham’s bigots had to step down, and someone had started making this permanent. If you couldn’t be you in this world, well you had to change the world. That was one thing her professor taught her that she kept close. She’d tried to be the change, tried to be different.

❝ I don’t want to be Harleen anymore. ❞

❝ That’s mad, Harleen and you know it. ❞

❝ It’s just a name and a small change at that. If you’re not okay with that, then you’re not gonna like what I have in mind to take back control. ❞

❝ You’re scaring me. ❞

❝ Oh i’m scaring you now? This isn’t even the beginning, but clearly you won’t like where it’s heading. ❞

❝ After everything I’ve done for you, everything we’ve been through. You don’t have anyone else looking out for you like I do! ❞

His voice was too loud too annoying as he took a step closer, Harley freaked, forcefully pushing him away from her. He stumbled, not expecting it, hitting his head on the kitchen counter, crashing to the floor. Blunt force trauma to the skull, likely to involve, an abrasion on the skin, it was unlikely to cause anything more than concussion, but then saying that he’d stayed down. Brushing her eyes over the counter she noticed the trickle of blood on the corner of the counter. Now it wasn’t just blunt force. He was out, quiet, and he’d been trying to hold her back. She didn’t love him, never had and the aggression at him holding her back, just in that instant pushed her over the edge. Her fist came down to punch him, making contact with his cheek, his neck cracked to the side, as her ring had cut his skin. Taking the ring off she left it next to him as she spoke a new harshness to her tone.

❝ I’m lookin’ out fer me now an’ it ain’t Harleen no more. Gettin’ ready to fight fer a better world like the rest of ‘em. I’dda suggested ya join us but it don’t sound like your kinda style. Ya gotta be the change ya want in the world, an’ Harley wants to get that change. ❞

A laugh her lips as she stood up, kicking him in the ribs for measure. She’d deal with him in the morning, if he made it. For now she had things to do, join the crowds, lose herself to the night.

#TUNESDAY DRABBLES.{ harley's solo adventures; diving into her world}#V; JOKER 2019.{ letting gotham free; a smile on her face }#( i didn't think an icon was really appropriate )

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fanfic-inator795 · 7 years

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Lego Batman Oneshot: Falling Alone, Flying Together

Plot: Maybe it had been too much to expect that he would completely get over it once he found a new family, but even so... he still wished it didn’t hurt this much. But thankfully, when it comes to this type of pain, he’s not alone.

((Okay so, I know the death of Robin’s parents wasn’t really elaborated on in the movie - considering how they died, that’s understandable that they wouldn’t talk about it much in a kids movie - but I still feel like he’d be effected by it. So, this is just a quick oneshot centered around that, with some Batdad and birb son moments too. Enjoy!))

It had been a pretty peaceful night so far. The only crime committed had been a couple attempted robberies - and the robbers didn’t even have any guns! Just a baseball bat and a hockey stick. Of course, once they saw that it was the infamous Dark Knight and Boy Wonder after them and not just the police, they gave themselves up pretty quickly.

Despite the lack of crime however, Batman still insisted on sticking around, just in case. Leave it to the Batman to always have his guard up, even when nothing was going wrong. But Dick didn’t mind at all. Whether they were in Wayne Manor or in the Batmobile parked in some alley, as long as he was with his padre, it would still be a fun time.

Currently the two of them were listening to the police scanner, waiting to see if any other crimes would pop up that night. Although, since there wasn’t much going on tonight, Batman allowed Robin to quietly listen to one of his favorite pop music stations on the radio, just so they wouldn’t be too bored. The Dynamic Duo had also made a quick stop at a nearby gas station, with Batman grabbing a coffee and Robin happily snatching up a couple backs of mini sandwich-cookies.

As he took another sip of his coffee, the Dark Knight narrowed his eyes a bit. “Something big is going to happen tonight...”

“Mm?” Robin swallowed his bite before looking at him curiously, “You think so?”

“Yes,” Batman replied firmly, “I can feel it in my guts... My super tuned-into-my-instincts bat-guts that are totally never wrong.”

“Huh...” His son thought for a couple moments as he chewed on another cookie, “Who do you think will try something tonight? Two-Face? Mr. Freeze?”

Batman gave a small hum. “Nah, it’s going to be something big. And unfortunately, there’s only one villain in this city who could pull off something that’s both big, memorable AND destructive.”

Robin nodded as he quickly made a serious face to match his father’s. “Yeah, no doubt about that, Batdad... But-” He started to smile, his eager determination clearly shining through. “-even if it is big, we’ll still be able to take care of it, no problem! Right?”

Unable to help himself, Batman smirked back at him. “Right. We just have to keep on our toes and wait for him to strike. Wait for an explosion, or a siren, or-”

Suddenly, there was a noise. It almost sounded like a scream, followed by an explosion - though it didn’t really sound like the explosions they were used to hearing on the job. Eyes wide, Robin stood up on his seat and pressed his face to the windshield, trying to get the best look at it. “...Or a fireworks display?” he asked, finishing the sentence.

Batman blinked. “A... wait, what? Ugh, hang on a sec.” Pressing a button, a small section of the Batmobile’s roof opened up, allowing the hero to poke his head up through it and see what was going on. As he did this, two more fireworks - a yellow and a green one - were launched up into the sky and mixed with the purple one that had just exploded.

“Um, can fireworks be filled with laughing gas?” Robin asked, looking confused, as well as a bit concerned. He didn’t really mind the Joker - especially since he did help them save Gotham several months ago - but he still knew the clown was pretty dangerous when it came to his schemes.

As he watched the sparks and ashes of the fireworks fall while two more were launched to take their place, Batman shook his head. “No... But they can attract people’s attention.” Specifically, his attention. “Looks like Joker’s doing another one of his ‘grand show’ schemes.” The hero still remembered the parade with the Prince music all those years ago. There had also been the gameshow and the casino, and of course plenty of carnivals.

So, the question was: Just what did this psychotic jester have in store for them tonight?

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait too long for an answer. As soon as Batman sat back down in his seat, both the radio and the police scanner cut out, producing nothing but static for a couple seconds. As soon as the static cleared, a familiar and gleefully evil voice began to speak.

“Hello there, Gotham City! Guess who~? Come on, go ahead and guess! No idea? Well, time’s up - IT’S ME! The Joker!” The Joker then let out a laugh, though neither Batman nor Robin were too intimidated by it (in fact, Batman just rolled his eyes at it).

“I’d like to announce a special one-night only event!” Joker continued as bouncy music began playing in the background, “Just a little something I’d like to call-” There was a long drumroll. “...Joker’s Big-Top Bonanza! Ha! Hilarious, right?”

Robin’s eyes widened. “Big top...”

“Bonanza?” Batman repeated, raising an eyebrow, “The heck is-? Wait. Big top? If it’s a big top, then that means-”

“-He’s probably got a circus set up somewhere...” his sidekick/son quietly finished for him.

“Huh... I’m actually surprised that this is his first circus-themed scheme. What with the whole clown shtick and everything. What, did he just forget that circuses existed until just now?”

“I guess,” Robin shrugged. Again, the boy’s voice was quiet, and instead of watching the radio, he was now looking down at the floor of the car.

Given that he had made quite an improvement on his parenting skills in the past few months, perhaps Batman would have asked him if he was alright. Unfortunately, the Joker’s announcement wasn’t finished yet, and Batman couldn’t afford to miss any details. So, he listened on.

“Now I realize this is kind of short notice, but good news Gothamites: You’re not the ones I’m inviting!” The Joker then paused as a recording of a disappointed audience going “Awww” played.

“Oh, but don’t fret! After tonight’s performance, I suspect I’ll have two new members of my big top that I’ll be GLAD to show off for tomorrow’s early morning show - which will be in the center of the city! No having to worry about parking fees here! Buuut until then, our show’s going to be just outside the south side of Gotham... So come and get me, Batman~”

With that, the radio returned to static, which Batman quickly turned off, growling slightly as he did. Without much of an element of surprise on their part, there was no doubt that the Joker would have plenty of dangerous tricks and traps awaiting them in that giant circus tent of his...

But the heroes didn’t have a choice! "I guess we’ll just have to make sure this circus performance is one night only!” Batman declared as he narrowed his eyes, “Ready, Robin? ...Robin?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah,” Robin nodded, glancing up slightly, “I’m ready.”

The Dark Knight stared at him for a moment. That definitely wasn’t his son’s usual level of enthusiasm... Especially when compared to how determined and excited he had been just a few minutes ago. “Uh, everything oka-?”

“Yeah!” Robin replied quickly - almost a little too quickly - as he forced a smile, “Now, come on, Batdad! Let’s go take that clown down!”

“...Right,” Batman mumbled as he started the car, still keeping an eye on the Boy Wonder as he did so, “Yeah, let’s go.”

The car ride was silent yet quick, and thanks to the garishness of the Joker’s circus set-up (completely with bright spotlights and more fireworks going off every few minutes), their greatest enemy’s location was very easy to find even without an actual address. And as soon as the tires of the Batmobile screeched to a halt, the Dynamic Duo jumped out and started making a run for the biggest tent - no doubt the one that the Joker would be hiding in.

“Keep your guard up!” Batman ordered as they ran. The hero had already taken out a bat-a-rang and was preparing for the worst.

“I’m on it, Padre!” Robin shouted back at him. He glanced around at their colorful surroundings. There didn’t look like there were any circus cannons set up, or circus animals hiding and waiting to attack, or- ...Or...

The Boy Wonder slowed slightly as he really started to take in the sights - the all too familiar sights for him. Smaller tents that would usually be used as dressing rooms, numerous barrels that someone his size could (and did) use to help him jump high and practice flips. Even the cheesy circus music that was playing in the background was familiar...

“Ugh!” He shook his head. “Come on, Grayson!” He had to focus on the mission! After all, Batman would never let familiar stuff like this get in his way!

...Though, speaking of Batman, he did briefly glance back at his son as he heard this - and again, he felt a pinch of concern. But unfortunately, there just wasn’t enough time to deal with it now, so he made a note to talk to Robin about it later.

As they got closer to the grand center-ring of the Joker’s scheme, various traps started going off beside them. Catapults that threw acid-filled pies, machines that formed sticky (and suffocating) clouds of cotton candy, and (of course) plenty of laughing gas-filled balloons that popped at random.

Thankfully, with enough skill and precision, these were all easily dodged by the two heroes - and without anything else to stop them, Batman and Robin pushed their way through the fabric ‘doors’, into the tent - and right into a spotlight.

“Well, well, well! Glad you two could finally make it!” Joker’s voice greeted, though it was hard to tell where it was coming from.

“It’s not like we really had a choice,” Batman retorted as he and Robin got into fighting positions, “Now show yourself so we can-”

Joker tsk tsk’d at him. “Not so fast, Batsy! After all, this is a circus! We can’t just have one of our normal fights! We have to turn it into a real showstopper! Buuut, I guess if you really want to fight me that badly... You’ll just have to come and get me!”

With that, all the lights in the tent came up - allowing the duo to see everything that was set up around them. Along with Harley Quinn, there must have been at least fifty other hired minions there, all wearing clown make-up with weapons in hand, ready to fight!

As for the Joker, he just stood on a high platform above them in the center, wearing a ringmaster’s top hat just for the occasion as laughed. “Although, you may have to get through my funny friends first! Haha! A pretty great crew, don’t you think?”

“Tc’ch, I’ve seen better,” Batman retorted, far from being intimidated despite being clearly outnumbered. But what did that matter? He was Batman! With his fighting skills and his sidekick to help him out, he would have no problem taking all of them out

However, while Batman was focusing on their soon-to-be opponents, Robin was barely looking at them. No, instead his eyes had been caught by the simple trapeze set-up above them. He hadn’t seen a trapeze since...

Hearing that Robin had gone quiet once again, Batman figured that now would be a good time to give out some good ol’ fatherly encouragement. That would help, right? “Don’t get too intimidated, kid” he told him quietly as he stretched his legs a bit, “I mean, if you could fight off a ton of villains from a prison dimension, then I know that you can do this!”

“Oh, uh, right...” Robin nodded, forcing his eyes away from the trapeze and giving his father another small smile, “Yeah.”

“Ugh, okay okay, enough stalling already!” the Joker shouted from above, impatiently tapping his foot a bit, “You’re the one who wanted to fight, Batman! So either come up here and fight me, or you could just entertain me instead!”

A nearby clown minion grinned at his cue and got out a throwing knife - but before it could even be thrown, it was knocked out of his hand by a bat-a-rang. “No thanks!” Batman shouted back, “I don’t think it’ll take us too long to get up there, with or without stalling!” With that, he and Robin ran out onto the circus floor, their own fists and weapons at the ready.

Despite the Dark Knight’s boasting though, the Joker just smirked back at him. “Hmph, we’ll see about that~”

The fight started almost instantly. When the two weren’t dodging fists, they were dodging things being thrown at them from above - from more throwing knives, to juggler pins and balls, to even peanuts!

Luckily, Robin’s bo-staff made knocking these objects away easy! “I’ve got your back, Padre!” Robin told him, narrowing his eyes a bit as he batted away another ball.

*POW!* “Thanks, Boy-Wonder!” Batman replied over his shoulder while his opponent fell to the floor. Two more clowns ran towards him, but the hero was quickly able to grab hold of them. *BAM! SMACK!*

Still trying to focus on giving his father cover, Robin couldn’t help but glance back up at the trapeze. Most of the minions were standing on the platforms, wanting a better opportunity to properly aim. However, he could see a couple of them - with guns, no less! - start to pull the trapeze rope towards them and grab hold of it...

“Hey!” The boy flinched slightly at his Batman’s sudden yell, though he quickly figured out that the call hadn’t been for him. Instead it was for the various circus minions who, rather than trying to attack them, were now racing past them. “I guess you spent so much on the decoration and atmosphere here that you had to cheap out on the hired help,” Batman commented as he looked back up at the Joker’s center platform.

The Clown Prince of Crime however just rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Bats, I thought you were one of the smart heroes! You should know that you can’t have just one act in a Big-Top Bonanza! That would be BORING! And I don’t do boring. But fear not, our next act is coming right now, and it’s sure to knock you off your feet~!”

There was a honk, and the Dynamic Duo quickly turned around. Needless to say, they were pretty shocked to see not one, not three, but a little over a dozen clowns on roller skates and unicycles - and even a few of them in a clown car! - barreling towards them. And of course, dressed in a brand-new sparkly jester outfit with her own skates shined, Harley was leading the pack.

“Hey Bats!” she shouted as she started to get out her giant hammer, “Didn’t that butler of yours ever tell you not to play in the street?!”

Batman growled, and with really no other option, he and Robin started to run. “Just keep moving!” he shouted to his sidekick, “Serpentine, serpentine!”

“On- EEP!” Robin yelled as he just barely avoided getting run over by a unicycle, “O-On it, Batdad!

With how many obstacles there were to avoid, it was pretty crazy! However, the two heroes knew how to stay light on their feet. They would also make sure to knock down any clown that they could whenever they got the chance, just so they wouldn’t be able to quickly turn around and try to run them over again.

Dealing with the clown car had been a bit difficult, since it was a bit too big to simply jump over, but with enough timing and speed, it was able to be dodged at least. A quick Bat-a-Rang in the tailpipe later, and it was down for the count! Even Harley’s destructive hammer was used against her, with Robin distracting her as a target while Batman grabbed the back end of it and used all his strength to swing it away - and taking Harley with it.

Taking a moment to rest, the two heroes smiled at each other. “Looks like traffic is clear!” Robin announced.

“Heh, nice one, kid,” Batman nodded - though if he was being honest, the kid could still use a couple more ‘Cool One-Liners For Superheroes’ lessons. “Okay, now we just have to-”

Another sound pierced the air. However, this time it wasn’t a car or unicycle horn, but instead almost sounded like a trumpet or something. Slowly, the duo turned towards the one area of the circus floor that hadn’t been lit up, and watched as an absolutely huge figure emerged from the darkness. Its tiny eyes glaring, its trunk - slow but powerful - already swinging, and as it came to a halt, it started to stomp and dig its foot into the ground like an angry bull.

“Holy pachyderm,” Robin mumbled, taking a couple steps back.

Batman on the other hand just threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “SERIOUSLY?!” he shouted, and the Joker just laughed and laughed. It looked like he really had gone all out with this scheme.

“Come on, Jumbo!” the Joker yelled, “It’s playtime!” The elephant let out another mighty call, preparing to charge. They certainly couldn’t run away from it, it would catch up to them in a matter of seconds! Even splitting up would still lead to one of them probably getting flattened! So, they would just have to go with plan B.

“Ready, Robin?” Batman asked, holding out his hand.

Putting on a determined face, Robin looked at him. “Ready!” He took his father’s hand, while his other hand gripped his bo-staff tightly. The elephant began to run towards them... and Batman and Robin ran towards it.

The Joker blinked. “Whoa, never thought I’d see the Bat play chicken with an elephant!” he commented as he pulled a bucket of popcorn from out of nowhere, “But hey, I’m not complaining!”

The three of them were getting closer, with the elephant of course being much faster. However, it wasn’t until they were a mere few feet apart that the Dynamic Duo put their plan into action.

Stabbing his bo-staff into the ground, Robin propelled both himself and Batman up into the air, the two of them just narrowly missing the elephant’s head. Instead, they landed on its back for just a split second, using it as a jumping off point to jump even higher and farther - just far enough to grab onto the ladder that led to the Joker’s platform.

“...” Looking down at them with his sharp-toothed mouth agape, the Joker barely even noticed when he dropped his popcorn out of shock.

“Well, with that super-cool stunt out of the way,” Batman started to say as he gave another smirk, “How’s about we take the express way up?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me!” Robin nodded. They got out their grappling hooks and shot them upwards, hooking them into the fabric ceiling.

Growling, the Joker turned his attention back to the minions on the surrounding platforms. “Alright guys, let’s give them one last trick before the grand finale!”

Hearing a chorus of “Right, boss!” both Batman and Robin turned to see what the clowns were up to - but only Robin’s eyes widened at the sight.

Just as he had noticed before, some of the clown minions had switched from using simple weapons to actual guns. Not only that, but they were going to use the length and angle of the trapeze to try and get a better shot. Without any more hesitation, the clowns grabbed hold of the ropes and started swinging. “Pew pew!” “Pew pew pew!”

“Come on!” he heard Batman say, “Let’s give them a moving target!” Batman pressed the retract button on his Bat-grappling hook, and shot up into the sky. Pushing aside his anxieties the best he could, Robin did the same.

“Pew pew pew!” Pewpewpew!” As he and his father continued towards the Joker - occasionally stopping or swinging to the other side of the platform, just to keep it hard for them to hit their enemies to hit their target - Robin watched the would-be assassins, unable to take his eyes off them. Though, it wasn’t because of fear. ...At least, not out of fear for himself.

With each of them using one hand to hold a gun, the minions didn’t exactly have the highest grip on the trapeze ropes. And despite all that he had set up, the Joker hadn’t bothered putting up a safety net.

“They’re going to fall... T-They’re going to fall!”

“Huh?” Batman glanced back at him, “What’d you say, kid?”

“They’re-” There was a shout. Robin felt himself gasp as he saw the clown start to lose his grip. Of course, the minion dropped his gun in an attempt to regain his balance, but it was too late.

For a moment, Robin felt the urge to swing forward while letting go of his grappling hook. To swing down and try to save the circus-themed minion, no matter how dangerous it might have been.

And for a moment, Robin didn’t see a faceless minion. Instead, he saw a man and a woman, dressed in matching red, acrobatic uniforms...

“WHOA!” Another nearby minion shouted. Before his fellow clown could fall more than just a foot or so, he was able to grab him, stopping his descent. Both of them then gave sheepish looks as the Joker yelled at them, saying something about “needing to be professional” and not make mistakes that could ruin the fun.

The hired clown-man was safe. No one was dead. ...And yet Dick couldn’t stop shaking.

“Alright, Joker,” Batman told his greatest enemy as he finally reached the platform, “It’s over. Your big ‘grand finale’ has been canceled.”

The Joker grinned as he got out a lion tamer’s whip. “We’ll see about that,” he replied, tipping his top hat a bit towards the Bat.

As Batman glared, he heard tiny feet land behind him. “Alright Robin,” he whispered, “I’ll take him on in front, and you try to knock him off balance from behind.”

“I-I-” Dick clenched his eyes shut for a moment. He could still see them falling, hear their screams in his ear. “B-Batdad, I-”

“What, do you want to go with the classic distraction plan instead?” Batman asked, still keeping his eyes focused on the Joker, “Well, if you think you can avoid that whip of is-”

“No, Padre, I- I need to-”

“Oh! Wait! New plan, we both take him on from the front and fight him at the same time! A full, head-on fight! That should tire him out.”

“But Batman-!”

“We just need to make sure to time our punches just right so he can’t land any hits on us.”

“Batman-!”

“Okay kid, on three. One, two-!”

“BRUCE!”

The entirety of the tent fell silent. Blinking, Batman turned to look at the boy - and was shocked at how frightened he looked. Even the Joker was surprised enough to go silent at the sight.

“Robin...?” Batman asked finally.

Dick looked away. “I just - I’m sorry. I-I can’t stay here.” He was ashamed, but he couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t be there any longer. “I have to... to go h-home.” Considering where he was plus all the resurfacing memories, it took a moment for him to remember to call Wayne Manor his home.

“But...” If his son hadn’t looked so frightened, maybe Batman would’ve been angry or annoyed with him for just bailing. But even if he wasn’t angry, he was still pretty confused. “Wait, Robin-”

But Dick just ignored him. Turning around and taking aim with his grappling hook once more, he fired, swung down back onto the circus floor, and ran out as fast as he could without another word.

“...Wow... I mean, heh, I know I can be intimidating but... enough to call out for his other dad? Geez...”

Batman glared at the Joker, despite the clown’s concerned look. It would seem that whatever the Joker had done to freak Dick out, it hadn’t been done on purpose. Sure, the Joker could definitely be cruel at times, but he had taken a liking to the Boy Wonder (as had most of the other villains in Gotham). He would still fight the kid, but he probably wouldn’t try to hurt him emotionally (or even hurt him too seriously physically) like he would with Batman.

Still, whether or not the Joker was in the wrong in this case, Batman still had a job to do and a circus to stop. So, the fight was back on...

Thankfully, the rest of their battle didn’t take too long, since neither of them were really in the mood to fight now. And, as soon as the GCPD had the Joker in their custody, Batman drove off in the Batmobile. Of course, without Robin there, the car was filled with a familiar yet still noticeable silence.

“...Hey, ‘Puter?” Batman spoke up as he got onto the highway.

There was a small chime. “What’s up?” the Bat Computer asked.

“Do you know if Dick made it home yet?”

“Okay, accessing Wayne Manor security footage.” There were a few moments of silence. “It looks like Dick is in his room.”

The Dark Knight gave a small sigh of relief. “Good, good. Thanks.” ...Still, even with his son safely at home, Batman still couldn’t completely shake the worry he was feeling. “Just what was going on with him tonight?” he mumbled. He had been just fine, up until they heard about the Joker’s circus plan. And the longer they were there, the more upset Dick had gotten.

“I just - I’m sorry. I-I can’t stay here. I have to go h-home.” “They’re going to fall. T-They’re going to fall!”

“Hmm... ‘Puter?” “Yes?” “Look up the family name ‘Grayson’. After a moment, he added, “And look it up with the word ‘Circus’ next to it.”

The Bat Computer gave a small beep - a sort of quick “Yes Sir” - as it searched through the various databases that it could connect to in a matter of seconds. ‘Puter then beeped again. “I found a newspaper article that features ‘Grayson’ and ‘Circus’. Would you like me to read it?”

“Yeah,” the hero replied simply, though even if his tone was flat, he couldn’t help but be a bit curious.

“Okay... The date is from April 19th, 2015-” A little over two years ago. Dick probably would have been nine or ten years old then. “-And the article reads ‘Tragedy at Traveling Circus. Last night, the famous Haley’s Circus made a stop near Gotham City. Unfortunately, what started out as a fun and thrilled filled night ended in tragedy. One of the performers at Haley’s Circus was a family of acrobats known as The Flying Graysons.”

Acrobats, huh? Given how skilled the kid was in both acrobatics and gymnastics (plus gymkata) and how it seemed like he was always climbing or jumping off of stuff, it wasn’t too surprising that Dick came from a whole family of acrobats. “The Flying Graysons - John and Mary Grayson, as well as their son who is still in training - were known for performing death-defying stunts without the aid of a safety net.” As soon as he heard that, Batman’s eyes widened. He could feel his heart start to sink a bit, and Alfred’s words from what felt like a lifetime ago began to echo through his mind.

“You two have a lot in common... He lost his parents at a young age.”

“According to Mr. Haley, the two elder Graysons had been performing for years, and he never felt like they were truly putting themselves at risk because of how skillful they were. But it seems last night’s performance had nothing to do with the level of difficulty of the stunt. Numerous witness have confirmed that during the performance, one of the trapeze ropes broke just before John and Mary were able to land safely on the next platform and causing the two acrobats to fall, receiving fatal injuries. The reason for the equipment failure is still being investigated. The only survivor of the Flying Graysons act is John and Mary’s young son, who had been only a spectator during the performance, Rich-”

Batman pressed the mute button on the radio, silencing ‘Puter. He didn’t need to hear anymore. “Dick...”

Once he arrived home, Batman didn’t even bother driving through the Bat Cave. He could worry about parking the Batmobile later. For the time being, he just parked it in front of his manor, put it into ‘street mode’, and went inside.

“Sir?”Alfred asked, glancing up from his dusting as soon as he heard the front door open. Though, given how clean everything already was (plus the concerned look on his butler’s face), Batman could suspect that the older gentleman was just keeping himself busy. “I-”

“I need to talk to Dick,” Batman stated, his tone stern yet soft. Determined, yet caring. Understanding completely, Alfred stepped aside and gave his master a quiet “Good luck” as he went upstairs.

Dick’s bedroom door was shut, and Batman couldn’t hear any noises. Not even sniffling. For a moment, Batman wondered if the boy had just fallen asleep. Maybe their talk would be better suited for the morning... But then he remember just how distraught Dick had been, as well as how lonely being an orphan could be at times - and that was more than enough motivation to push Batman into knocking on the door.

A couple seconds passed before he heard an answer. “I’m not hungry, Grandpa...”

“It’s me,” Batman corrected him through the door. When that didn’t get a reply, he asked, “Can I come in?”

“...Okay.”

Taking a deep breath, the Dark Knight slowly opened the door. Save for a small bedside lamp, the lights in the room were off. However, instead of laying down on the bed, Dick was sitting on the edge of it in his pajamas, holding himself tightly with his head hanging low.

Batman started to walk over to him, but then stopped. After a moment of thought, he took off his cowl. His hair popped into place just as he sat down on the bed. For several moments, neither of them said a word.

“...Batman,” Dick began suddenly, still keeping his head low, “Am... Am I grounded for just, leaving you to deal with the Joker alone like that?”

Had it not been for the solemn situation, maybe Bruce would’ve smiled a bit at that. “Nah, not this time, kid,” he told him, shaking his head.

“Okay...” Dick winced slightly, squeezing his arms a bit. “Though, I’m still sorry about it. I-It wasn’t exactly a heroic thing to do...”

“It’s alright,” Bruce quietly insisted, “I... I understand why you had to leave.” Dick didn’t say anything, but the unmasked hero did see him blink a few times, trying his hardest to hold back his tears.

“...I uh, already know the details of... of what you had to go through, but... if you wanna talk about it, I’m here to listen. And yeah, I know from personal experience that talking about this stuff isn’t exactly fun, but... admittedly, it does help.”

Again, Dick waited to give a reply, though it didn’t seem to be out of hesitation. Bruce could see that the boy was thinking, trying to figure out what he needed to say while separating thoughts from memories. So, Bruce was patient, and even glanced away from Dick, not wanting to inadvertently put pressure on him to say something he wasn’t ready to talk about. So, he just put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and waited.

Eventually, Dick did start to speak, and began with one simple question: “D-Do you... Do you know why I wanted to get adopted so badly?”

Turning his gaze back over to the boy, Bruce slowly shook his head.

“It wasn’t because I wanted to r-replace them or, or anything like that. I’d never want to do that. Not ever. But, I just... I thought that, i-if I could just find a new family to be with, m-maybe- maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad.” Dick’s voice started to crack as the tears finally started to fall. Bruce’s frown deepened as he started to gently rub Dick’s back, soothing him the best he could.

Unfortunately for the time being, it didn’t seem to help much. “M-Maybe I wouldn’t feel as a-alone, and- and maybe it w-wouldn’t hurt as much... A-And it’s mostly worked! I-I love being in a family with you and A-Alfred and Barbara! But...” He finally looked up at his adoptive father, eyes watery. “But... i-it never really stops hurting, does it?”

Bruce gave a small sigh. “No... It doesn’t,” he answered.

Dick sniffled, his lip now quivering a bit. Before he could say anything more, Bruce gently pulled him into a hug. Unable to help himself, the boy started to sob into his chest, occasionally mumbling things like “It’s not fair” and “I still miss them” and even “I’m sorry”. Whether he was apologizing for crying or for missing his parents - his mom and his real dad - Bruce wasn’t sure.

But even so, Bruce just stayed silent and continued to hold him, rubbing his back and occasionally shushing him. It was what Alfred would do for him whenever he broke down as a child - and if it worked then, hopefully it would work now.

It took a while (as was to be expected) but eventually Dick’s sobs did start to soften, though he still sniffled a bit as he held onto Bruce. “I know that... that they would want me to be happy, but... i-it’s hard sometimes... Really hard.”

“Yeah, I know...” Bruce agreed, giving another small sigh, “I know.” You could move on from death, you could even become a super-tough and awesome vigilante, but you could never truly forget... But, just like with the other emotions and feelings Bruce had been learning about lately, maybe that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Bruce glanced up, gazing out the window and out towards the lights of Gotham. “...You’re right. They wouldn’t want you to feel sad all the time. They would want you to be happy, and make your own life for yourself - and trust me, you’re already doing a great job with that. And, in case you ever think otherwise, I know that they wouldn’t mind you meeting new people too. Making new friends, a new family... They wouldn’t want you feeling guilty over that stuff.”

He felt Dick give a small nod. “Can’t stop letting people in,” he quietly quoted, “Right?”

That time, Bruce did smile, just a little. “Right. But at the same time, as hard as it is... it’s okay to feel sad too.”

“H-Huh? Dick sniffled.

Bruce closed his eyes. “No one says that you have to completely forget about them, or about how you feel. It’s... It’s alright to miss them... To wish that they were still here, or remember them, or even cry for a bit. It may not feel the greatest but, you don’t have to feel guilty about doing it either. ...Better than always pretending or repressing it...” Like a certain bat-themed hero who maybe wasn’t the best role model, even if he usually meant well.

“...Yeah” he heard Dick reply as he opened his eyes, the boy’s voice a lot steadier now, “I know.”

"Good. So, yeah...” He started to loosen his hug, but before the two of them completely separated, Bruce remembered one last thing he wanted to tell him. “And Dick?”

Dick glanced up at him. “Yeah, Batman?”

“Just- ...For the times when it does hurt - when you need to cry or, or take a day off to mourn or anything like that - just remember that... I’m here for you. We’re here for you. No matter what.”

“...” Even as a couple more tears fell from his eyes, they weren’t enough to stop Dick from smiling. “Heh, o-okay,” he said as he moved back into Bruce’s arms, hugging him tightly. And of course, Bruce returned the hug without hesitation.

“...So,” the billionaire started to say once their hug ended, “I guess I should let you get some sleep now. I mean, it’s sorta late.” Though really it wasn’t THAT late, at least when compared to how late the two of them usually stayed up. Still, he wanted Dick to get some well-deserved rest.

But Dick, on the other hand... “Uh, yeah, I guess it is kinda late. But, I’m not really that sleepy. So...” He gave a bit of a sheepish look, staying close to his adoptive father’s side. “Maybe, we could just hang out the rest of the night?”

Thanks to being a pretty good detective, Bruce knew how to read between the lines - though even if he wasn’t, he would still know what the boy was trying to say. You helped me feel better, but I still don’t really want to be alone right now. Another feeling he could admit to having at times, even if he usually hid or ignored it.

But he would do no such thing tonight. Instead, Bruce just smiled at him. “Yeah. Sounds like a good idea to me.”

Dick smiled back. “Thanks... Thanks, Padre.”

“No problem, kid.”

()()()()()()()()()

It was nearly sunrise when Alfred found the two of them in the living room on the couch. Bruce was still in his Batman costume, minus the cowl, while Dick was in his pajamas. Between the two of them on the coffee table was a plate of cookies. Or rather, there had been a plate of cookies there, but now it was just crumbs. On the TV, an old recording of ‘The Gray Ghost’ (an old favorite of Bruce’s from his childhood) was continuing to play despite no one watching it.

But none of those things were of any importance to Alfred. Instead, the butler could only focus on his two young masters, smiling softly as he watched them sleep. Dick was using his father’s lap as a pillow, and Bruce had a hand on his son’s shoulder. And, despite the rough night they’d had, it still looked like the two of them were having a peaceful sleep, not even waking up when Alfred placed a couple blankets over them. Surely a bit of sleeping in wouldn’t do the duo any real harm...

Given what they had went through at such young ages, the butler of course sympathized with the two of them greatly, but he also knew that they would be alright. Yes, the two orphans-turned-superheroes would always have a certain weight on their shoulders, and they would always have days where their hearts would be heavy as memories, both good and bad, played in their minds. They would always feel that loss... But they would also feel what they’ve gained over time, as well.

It would always hurt, but at the same time, at least both of them now knew that they weren’t alone in their pain. Despite tragedy, they had found each other, and that was all that mattered.

THE END

#lego batman movie #lego batman #lego robin #dick grayson #lego joker #and a quick cameo from Alfred too #my writing #oneshot #fanfiction

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marienela · 5 years

Text

For Pre-Fall 2020, Moschino’s Creative Director Jeremy Scott went back to New York City, in Brooklyn to be exact to capture the sights and sounds of the Big Apple to transform them into a surprisingly a wearable collection that can go from runway to clothes rack.

Presented at the New York Transit Museum in Brooklyn, Moschino’s Pre-Fall 2020 womenswear and Fall 2020 menswear collections are Jeremy Scott’s love letter to New York City. Scott studied at Pratt University—just about two miles from the Transit Museum—and has since retained a deep, unbreakable link with the five boroughs. The occasion marks Moschino’s very first fashion show in New York.

To create the atmosphere, Scott used the sounds that New Yorkers know by heart – the distinct screech of a subway train braking as it pulls into a station. Then, the muffled shuffle of boots and sneakers and tote bags and backpacks as people both enter and exit, followed by a familiar voice that recites “stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

New passengers positioned, the train then disappears into darkness with a thudding echo. The whole routine repeats itself thousands of times a day in Gotham. New Yorkers know the sounds. The noises are the tempo of the city’s soundtrack.

References run the gamut from uptown polish to Lower East Side leather bars, and all are either inverted, subverted or extroverted with Moschino’s cheeky sense of humor. Madison Avenue tweed is cut-and-spliced with Williamsburg denim; references to nineties-era Harlem street-style are interpreted through color-blocked windbreakers, XXXXXL puffer jackets, track pants and flat brim hats (many of which are have been transformed into bags).

Financial District flannels are flipped into wide-legged pantsuits; gigantic Bic-style lighters are fashioned as evenings bags (enough to hold not just a pack of cigarettes, but an entire carton).

Radio prints recall a more analog era, when, in the heat, residents city-wide might sit on their stoops and listen to the bygone songs of summer. Architectural and urbane flourishes are captured in mercurial arcs and reflective textures on silvered eveningwear.

“New York is the ‘city that never sleeps,’” says Scott. “With that in mind, I wanted to offer a little bit of everything. A round-the-clock set of ensembles for city girls and guys who aren’t afraid to go from the ballroom to the back room, then watch the sun come up over the East River. There’s nowhere else in the world where you get that kind of energy and magic!”

The next station is: Moschino Street.

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: A model walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: <> A model walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: 7 A model walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Stella Maxwell walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Halima Aden walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Soo Joo Park walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: 17 <> A model walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Alton Mason walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Joan Smalls walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Winnie Harlow walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Taylor Hill walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Madelaine Petsch walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: 71 A model walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK – DECEMBER 09: Imaan Hammam walks the runway during Moschino Prefall 2020 Runway Show at New York Transit Museum on December 09, 2019 in Brooklyn City. (Photo by Randy Brooke/Getty Images for Moschino)

Moschino Pre-Fall 2020: Love Letter to New York City For Pre-Fall 2020, Moschino’s Creative Director Jeremy Scott went back to New York City, in Brooklyn to be exact to capture the sights and sounds of the Big Apple to transform them into a surprisingly a wearable collection that can go from runway to clothes rack.

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briannaprisca-blog · 6 years

Text

Young God Chapter Three

“Lydia Napier?”, the gruff, very annoyingly tall boss of The Gotham Paper muttered at me, flipping through my portfolio.

Highly doubt you’re reading that fast good sir

I cleared my throat, sitting straight up, and smoothing down the grey dress I wore.

“Y-Yes that’s my professional pen-name-”

“But your legal name is Lydia Wayne?”

“Yes, Sir but-”

“So, because you’re the estranged twin sister of Bruce Wayne I should hire you?” He said, very loudly I might add, walking around his desk, carelessly throwing away my portfolio.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“No, sir. That’s why I want to go by Lydia Napier whether it’s for my work or beyond a pen-name. I prefer using Napier as my last name. And I don’t wanna be reminded that I’m the Wayne daughter that runaway at 16. Now, if you’d like to send me out then start a tabloid about how Lydia Wayne is back, then go ahead but you’ll be talking to my lawyer as soon as you publish anything about me.” I leaned closer and closer glaring my icy eyes at him.

He looked angry almost, almost. He chuckled as he set down rubbing his face.

“So, Lydia Napier, when can you start?”

I smiled as I told him, “Anytime Mr. Furn.”

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

“Lydia Napier. Napier, Napieeeer.”

My brother kept repeating the last name almost angrily and I knew he was waiting for me to say something about it at breakfast as he read the new article I wrote in the paper and I rolled my eyes.

Clutching my necklace before getting up to grab my coat, I said very loudly, “It’s J’s last name, Brucey. No need to get upset!”

I could hear him chocking on his milk as I slammed the door behind me.

I shook my head jiggling my keys all the way to my Nissan Altima, chuckling at Bruce’s cars compared to my one and only.

I didn’t care though, money meant nothing to me.

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

Driving to work was the longest 20 minutes of my life, I started to notice every morning since I’ve been in Gotham and it was mostly because between 6 A.M. and 6:30 A.M. all the radio stations wanted to play was the morning news and podcasts, but of course no music barely ever.

“Fuck. My. Life.” And as I said that, I spoke too soon. Because as I wasn’t really listening to the radio and was waiting for the dickhead in front me to realize the light had turned green two minutes ago, the woman on the radio said something that made me almost have a stroke.

“...We are just getting reports there was another robbery by The Joker and this time he left no survivors and if you had any money in Gotham’s Golden Life Bank then you’re money is sadly gone, and coming up in the next two minutes we’ll tell you ways you can prevent you from losing your life’s savings! Now onto the weather-”

HONK HONK HOOOONK

I got out of my head for a minute to realize I was being a dickhead and I pressed my foot on the gas a little to hard, forgetting that there was indeed laws to abide while driving on the road.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breath and I felt my throat closing up. I was suddenly reminded that I have a horrible thing called anxiety.

Pulling over, I started to cry in my hands as my vision was tunneling.

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker.

Most of the time, people had people’s name or even themselves. Sometimes it would be something as simple as Money written on their enemy wrist.

Mine never changed. It always said The Joker in messy, red lettered handwriting, and I never really liked looking at it cause it looked like blood almost.

Jack’s side was neat, but messy his handwriting giving me a sense of calming down but as I looked down at J’s all I could notice was that on the other wrist was my enemy.

Gotham.

The Joker.

I was always destined to come back here and when I did, I’d soon face my enemy. And maybe even without my soulmate.

I grabbed the wheel as the last of my tears streamed down my face.

“Man up, Lydia. Man the fuck up and grow some dick.”

And with that I headed to work, pretending that my hand wouldn’t stop shaking unless I tightened them until they were white around the steering wheel.

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

At work it was no better. I was left in a private cubicle and my computer faced away from everyone. So naturally, I looked up The Joker.

The result only made me want to stab my eyes out and it made me sick cause some of the crime scene pictures came up.

I decided that, that’s what my next article would be on.

The Joker.

It was crazy, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t reveal he was my enemy, but what I would reveal is that I wanna know who he is and how he got the way he was. I wanted to go in deep and maybe it would break The Joker if everyone knew the truth.

It was like, I wasn’t thinking, and truth was is I wasn’t.

Making a start of an article on The Joker was the start of a war between him and me, but I didn’t care as I angrily and carelessly typed away, forgetting there is such a thing as editing your words and making them sound better, instead of angry or even threatening.

“Who is The Joker? A mystery man with a Glasgow smile? A criminal who just showed up in Gotham out of nowhere? No, no I think he’s someone and I intend to find out. I, Lydia Napier, will start a project on finding out who exactly The Joker is. Finding out who this villain, this insane criminal will be my mission from now on beside other works...”

I wasn’t going insane or going to obsess over him, but I was going to find out why he’s my enemy and who the hell he is underneath the mask of disgusting greasepaint.

I stopped writing five minutes before clock out time and switched to the other tab, staring at his very dark brown eyes that showed no emotion what so ever.

It almost made me sick. But it didn’t.

I printed out the piece of work on The Joker and decided to just leave it on Mr. Furn’s desk.

I didn’t feel like getting shot down by my idea just yet.

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cdelphiki · 5 years

Text

Gotham was trashed.

Jason was pretty lucky. He realized what was going on fairly quickly and was able to avoid all screens.

No one else in the Iceberg Lounge did, however, before he cut the power. So Jason took Dog and started clearing the building as best he could. In the end, he only got his office secured before Alfred called.

And once Alfred called on the radio, Jason had a-whole-nother directive. He found an abandoned truck on the street and loaded Dog up to head to the cave.

It took hours.

Hours of running people over and trying to find alternate routes when too many cars were abandoned and blocking the road.

But he finally made it to the cave and helped Alfred load boxes upon boxes of supplies into the bed of the truck.

“The Justice League is using the Daily Planet as a safehouse,” Alfred said, as he pointed to which boxes needed to come with them, “It would be in our best interest to go there.”

One week ago, those words would have filled Jason with dread. Having to spend any time around Superman or any of the other goody-goodies of the league would have made him contemplate turning himself into Arkham.

Well, that’s a tad dramatic. But he’d definitely consider punching one of the little batbrats or something, out of hopes that would fall him out of whatever graces brought him to such a horrible predicament.

But that was one week ago.

Today, Jason had had to kill dozens of his own men, then dozens, if not over a hundred of random civilians.

People who had done nothing wrong. Who were victims of a horrible plague. Innocent men, women, and children.

God, the children.

And Alfred had to put down his own son and grandsons. Jason’s… his something. Family.

Any grudges held a week ago were forgiven, Jason supposed. In the wake of the apocalypse, talks of the Joker and Penguin seemed frivolous.

In the realization that he, Alfred, and Damian were the only bats left, everything seemed frivolous.

Because right now there was a 14-year-old boy who just lost everyone.

“How’s the kid holding up?” Jason asked, after he’d found Alfred the cat and put him in a carrier in the cab of the truck.

“I have not spoken to him, I’m afraid,” Alfred the human said, while he fastened Titus into the backseat. Jason had never once used a seat belt with Dog, but he figured it was probably actually not a bad idea. Alfred fastened Dog in, as well, and somehow the two massive dogs managed to look at least a little comfortable in the backseat of the pickup.

“He’s a strong kid,” Jason said, staring the truck to head toward Metropolis.

“You would be surprised at how much of that is merely a facade,” Alfred said, allowing the cab to turn to silence.

The dogs napped in the back while Jason flipped through the radio stations, trying to find one that was still broadcasting something other than the same Justice League emergency alert, warning everyone not to use screens and to ‘shelter in place’ until further instructions were given.

Frustrated, Jason punched the radio off and resigned himself to a torturous drive to Metropolis in silence.

But Alfred saved the day, and produced A Tale of Two Cities on CD, so the eight hour drive to Metropolis, only that long due to the horrid state of the roads, wasn’t all bad.

Red Tornado was guarding the entrance to the Daily Planet’s parking garage. Even without identifying himself, Red let them right in. Apparently Clark had called ahead.

Weird day. Clark Kent vouching for him.

“Alfred,” Clark said, when he appeared beside the passenger door as soon as they parked and got out, “Thank God you’re okay.”

When Clark wrapped Alfred up in a hug, Alfred said, “Master Kent… it is good to see you, as well. Thank you for caring for Master Damian.”

Clark squeezed a little more, then let go. “He’s on the roof, Jason,” Clark said, as if Jason would want to immediately go see him or something, then turned back to Alfred and asked, “Where does this stuff need to go?”

“Bruce sent over everything needed to set up a radio system independent of everything already live,” Alfred said, “That is the bulk of the boxes in the back.”

Jason put both the dogs on leashes and let them hop out, aware that he needed to find them a place to… do their business. They had stopped a few hours back, when they were far enough away from civilization that he felt comfortable doing so, but that had still been a while ago.

Getting them water would probably be good, too. And the cat, of course. Which had not been a fan of the leash Jason forced on him to allow him to stretch a little, too.

But before Jason could do anything with the cat, Clark had wooshed him away with everything else in the truck.

“Where’d you put Alfred?” Jason demanded, as soon as Clark returned, “he needs a chance to stretch.”

“I put him in your’s and Damian’s room,” Clark said, as if that were a casual statement.

His and Damian’s room.

Hah.

Like Damian would allow that.

Jason wasn’t really sure he wanted to allow that, either. While he knew he wouldn’t hurt the demonbrat. Probably. If the kid got all stabby, he was not responsible for any repercussions he dealt out.

Also Damian had that little superiority complex going on. Jason highly doubted he wanted to share a room at all.

“We are short on rooms,” Clark explained, without Jason having to say anything, “This is an office building, not an apartment complex. You three will have to share one of the offices with the animals. It’ll be tight, but hopefully temporary while we clean up the rest of the city and start securing more buildings.”

“Right,” Jason grumbled, readjusting Titus’s leash when the dog tried to pull away to go explore.

“Damian hasn’t said much since…” Clark sighed, “He isn’t doing well. Seeing family might help cheer him up.”

“Alfred can-” Jason started, just to be cut off by said man.

“Master Jason, while I am sure he will come around, I did just shoot his father. You are likely to be more of a comfort to him at the moment.”

“I highly doubt he blames you,” Jason tried, but Alfred just shook his head.

“You are his brother,” Alfred said gently, with some finality. As if that statement were enough to convince Jason.

It wasn’t, but he grumbled and went toward the elevator anyway.

Because, sure, they both had the same dad. Kind of. On good days, when Jason and Bruce were both in decent moods and willing to admit their relationship to each other.

But they had never considered each other brothers. Not really.

Sure, the word had come to mind when thinking about Damian, but they had never even lived together. Rarely done anything as brothers, or even as family. It was rare that Jason was let in on things. Rarer still that Damian was also around, at the same time.

The elevator dinged, and Jason stepped off on the last floor, then went and found the entrance to the roof, where Clark had said Damian was.

And once Jason opened the door, he saw Damian right there. Sitting on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling off the side.

Jason saw his grapple attached to his belt, so he wasn’t worried about the kid falling or anything, but still.

Leave it to a bat to pick a dangerous spot to sort through their trauma.

Titus started pulling on his leash, trying his best to get at Damian, so Jason said, “Hey kid,” to grab his attention.

Damian turned, his domino mask in his hands. Jason could see as he started to roll his eyes, just to be distracted by Titus, who had started barking for Damian.

Damian slid off the edge of the roof onto the ‘floor’ and opened his arms just as Titus finally reached Damian.

“Hey, boy,” Damian whispered, burying his face into Titus’s fur, trying his best to hug onto a dog that was so excited all he wanted to do was bounce around and lick at Damian.

As the reunion dragged on, and Damian definitely cried a little, Jason took a seat next to him and let Dog curl up over his legs.

Damian eventually sat up and scrubbed at his face, letting Titus cover him and rest on top of him, similar to Dog. “You have a dog?” Damian asked, looking down at Dog and clearly wanting to pet her.

“Yeah, you can pet her if you want.”

Dog licked at Damian’s hand after he pet her and tried to hop up to climb up on Damian, too. Jason felt betrayed.

But she settled back down and let Jason keep holding her.

“What’s her name?”

“Dog,” Jason said simply, perfectly aware of how stupid the name was.

But it was what she responded to, so that was her name.

“Everyone overestimates your intelligence,” Damian drawled, even as he kept scratching Dog’s ear.

“You’re just jealous of my amazing naming abilities.”

“Tt. Hardly.”

“At least I didn’t name a cat ‘Alfred.’”

“Did you bring him, too?” Damian asked, and the hint of hope in his voice made Jason smile. Just a little.

Don’t judge him for it. Damian was a kid, it was nice when kids acted like kids.

“Yep. He’s in ‘our’ room, according to Mr. Captain America.”

Damian scowled at that, and asked, “What are you even doing here?”

Shrugging, Jason said, “I’m here to help. Gotham has gone to shit, pretty much. No one really left to start up one of these safe houses there. Besides, this is the official JL one so…”

“And you were invited?” Damian drawled.

Jason couldn’t help his grin. “I invited myself.”

“Tt. Figures.”

With another shrug, Jason said, “Eh. You know.”

They lapsed into silence as Titus fell asleep, and Dog just stared out at the roof, occasionally picking her head up to look up at Jason, as if checking whether they were still going to sit there or if she could get up yet.

Each time, Jason would scratch at her head, but kept his head rested back against the wall behind him, just letting the sounds of the city wash over him.

Or, rather. The near silence of the city.

Clark and them were doing a fairly decent job, clearing the roads of the ‘zombies.’

“How are you holding up,” Jason asked, closing his eyes. He didn’t really want to look at Damian and she Damian’s scorn at Jason daring to pretend to care.

“Father…” Damian started, but paused to take a shaky breath, “he-”

“I know, kid,” Jason said, reaching out blindly to pat at Damian’s leg, “Alfred told me.”

Jason opened his eyes in time to see Damian nod, so he added, “Tim and Dick, too.”

Because he really had no other way to relay that information, if he didn’t already know. Jason wasn’t stupid. Damian would be upset about Tim. But Dick? Damian would be devastated.

“I know,” Damian whispered.

“The girls, too. All of them.”

Damian scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, then shifted so he was leaning a little more toward Jason.

“I haven’t heard about Duke, yet.”

When Damian sniffed, Jason looked down fully and saw a tear track down Damian’s face. Jason hesitated, but he slipped his hand behind Damian’s back and placed his hand right at the base of his neck, trying his best to convey some sort of comfort to the kid.

“It’s just us,” Damian croaked, and with the admission, more tears started to well in his eyes.

“I know, kid,” Jason said, wrapping his arm around Damian fully and pulling him in, much to the annoyance of the dogs, who had to shift, “I know.”

“I miss him so much,” Damian cried, right into Jason’s shoulder, where he’d buried his face, “I didn’t- I didn’t have enough time.”

Jason wrapped his other arm around the kid and shushed him as his crying grew louder and more desperate.

He’d be a giant liar if he said he didn’t cry, a little, too.

Because Damian was right. They didn’t have enough time.

Not enough time to fix things. To talk it out. To apologize and explain.

Bruce had been a dick to Jason, but Jason had been a dick right back.

For all the posturing, all the arguments, nasty words, and attempts made on each other, Bruce was still family.

Bruce was still dad.

And now Jason would never get the chance to reconcile with him.

With him or Tim or Dick or Barbara or Cass or Stephanie or any of them.

All he had left was Dog. Dog and Damian and Alfred. And he wasn’t even sure if Damian would want him around, once he recovered enough to not need a shoulder to cry on. Jason was fairly sure that if Damian had an ounce less of pride, he would have just cried on Clark’s shoulder and not even needed Jason.

“How long are you staying?” Damian croaked, after they’d both long since calmed down. He pulled out of Jason’s arms and scrubbed at his face once more, doing nothing to hide the evidence of his tears.

“I dunno,” Jason said, and regretted his words instantly.

Because Damian seemed to shut down at them. Jason could practically see the walls rise. The gates slam shut. The safe lock, hiding away all of Damian’s emotions. Crushing all his hope and trust.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me around,” Jason amended. Because he absolutely would. If this little brat was willing to tolerate all of Jason’s shit, then Jason would gladly do the same in return.

He was never good at family, but neither was Damian.

Maybe they could get along, then.

“You will?” Damian asked, and that little touch of hope was starting to return into his voice, so Jason just smiled, softly.

“Yeah. I won’t leave you, D.”

“You won’t?”

Jason shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Brother’s gotta stick together, right?”

“Yeah,” Damian said, smiling slightly as he rested his head against Jason’s arm.

“Good.”

So maybe he and Damian could be brothers, after all.

#Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Jason & Damian #Alfred Pennyworth #Clark Kent #DCeased fanfic #zombies #batman #robin #red hood #batfam #batfamily #batbros #c writes #2410 words #little to no proofing #lmao #I'm just glad I finished it finally

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