AnalogicThoughts

"I even had an appointment with an endocrinologist a month before we actually got into a relationship, but well…" It left you without much difference; all the feelings that existed within you were still there, recharging after all those tears had left.

The only emotion that came out was a sad laugh, caused by your frustration at holding the spoon with your hand being all bandaged.

Dick, on the other hand, didn't seem amused at all by the information.

After all those emotions, which had barely happened an hour ago, he barely said a word, only gently helped you up and go to the home theater and put you on one of the sofas before leaving without saying a word, which scared and comforted you at the same time, with a pang of hope mixed with a fear similar to before.

But then he appeared less than two minutes later with two bowls of ice cream and a very large heavy blanket, determined to keep you company, without saying anything or asking anything of you; the only thing he said was a whisper about how Alfred would kill you two after ruining your appetite for lunch.

And you had no idea, maybe it was the fact that you was finally going to be able to talk to someone about it after years of keeping it all bottled up, but it simply made you start talking nonstop.

Your childhood, your fifteenth birthday party, your parents, the feeling of finally going to college, meeting Bruce, when he brought Richard and his siblings to the mansion, the wedding and how you threw up before walking down the aisle because of the dress, your job, the first broken mirror last week, what happened at the party last night.

And Dick watched it all with a terrified look.

He was pale and didn't made any work to hide his terrified expression; he didn't dare to say something or to even move during the whole story, just staring at you and slowly getting worse.

"Have you been in the closet for over 15 years?" He whisper like it was a forbidden secret or someone would listen, even tho it was just you two in the whole manor.

You didn't look at him, just keep staring at the melting ice cream you had in hands.

"Yep" you said, popping the 'p' and letting out another incredulous little laugh. "It's... It's too much for me to really come out of the closet right now, you know? There are so many people who—oh shit! Don't cry."

You barely glanced at him, and the most obvious thing was his red eyes and the tears running, while he had a open mouth like a dumb fish.

"I-I am sorry. This... this is straight out of a horror movie" You got close to try provide some comfort but he clean his own tears and take a deep breath before push you for a hug. "I shouldn't be the one crying in this situation, but gosh... I would be dead"

The courage to answer this don't hit you, because you know damm well you should be dead at this point; you just nod and get closer to him, and Dick looks to get the memo, at least a bit.

For a couple of minutes, is just that, a comfortable silence between you two while snugging. Affection was always present with Dick, but that was bringing memories of when he still was a little brat running around in little shorts, times that definitely nothing was easier, but the nostalgia was welcomed.

"I called you dad early, is that alright?" He say in a whisper, a not so dramatic one this time tho.

Is a simple question, one that you appreciate, but saying yes would make everything way too real. And if you received this same question two weeks ago, you would desperately say no with all the air in your lungs, but now, wouldn't hurt just a bit...

"Please..." It was supposed to be a "yes, thank you" or any other variation, but beg for it was more natural.

" 'kay, dad" The smile on his face was listenable, and honestly, took a small one from you too.

The felling was wonderful, was warm and something so soft you didn't fell on years, and it was just like that, just like love. It left you speechless because, even though you had imagined it thousands of times before, it was still something so new and raw that it hurt.

"Can I ask you something? Two things actually" You just nod, cause this would or fuck up the moment or make you fell more of it. "Do you... Never though about Tim? Like, my kid is bisexual and have a boyfriend, and everyone is do nice about it, why don't come out? Or, i don't know, anything..."

"Of course I tough, way too much, but, Tim is a son, I am a mother" the line was pretty simple in your head, that's why you only shrugged while answering, still with a fragile tone. "If a teenager come home late after a night out, is ok, they are a teen and is expected, if a parent come late in a night out, even if their children is being taken care by the other parents, family member or babysitter, they are a bad parent and not responsable enough. Tim is young, new, is allowed, I'm way to old"

He murmur something about the analogy that don't make it was to your ear so you don't even bother. He looks like was to say something, maybe disagree or something, but he stop himself before start and just go.

"Hm... Do you have a name?"

During your adolescence and the short period during college, you had thought about it quite frequently, the problem tho was that you was so scared that couldn't pick one; after Bruce, you just simply stopped with that, so it was just one more thing. Your name... Well, dead name, was yours and didn't have much to do.

So you simple shake your head at him.

"So, I still call you by your current name?"

It tasted bitter on your face, like a lemon, making it clear that also wasn't a pleasant option.

"I... Is gonna do a couple years that I don't think about it, and Bruce wouldn't appreciate his wife randomly changing names, you know?" You let a small and low laughter, almost depreciating.

Dick let a sight and push you closer, basically bear hugging you.

"So you are a... Transman and hm, gay? Bi?" He says like is nothing, and it should be, but you still cannot say it so casually.

In fact you never even spoke it out loud, so without giving a proper answer you nod your head, and he sight again.

"You really need to talk to Bruce"

"What?" You move a little to get out of his hug but it doesn't work, and you hear the third little sight.

"You are getting your life destroyed over the sake of your husband comfort, if he loves you like he says, I doubt he will broke up after all those years after hear it, and if he does, then I guess he isn't a good enough man" He says it with soo much confidence that almost scariest you. Even tho he's eyes still red from all the crying, he looks way too brave.

"Riri, he is straight, doesn't matter if he loves me or not, people have the right to have preferences-"

"Oh please! He loves you! You two are married for 8 years! How you never realized that man is a dog? You could punch him in the face and he will say sorry. Every single valentine's day and birthday looks like is the first and last one" Richard cut yourself quickly and start to talks as fast as possible. "This logic could apply for every single couple on the world, besides you two!"

Honestly, that just make you even scared, and he notices this when he cover you more with the blanket, without even looking your reaction.

"If he broke up with you, I will be there for go with you, ok?" He kiss you on the forehead, and you reply the same gesture on him with a small smile basically just as sad as before.

Dick was Bruce's robin, but he was always your son. Is not that Bruce doesn't love the boy, is pretty much the opposite, the man couldn't even think about it, but sometimes, a dad need more of a son that he knew about. If you told yourself from 10 years ago your biggest confident was your adoptive son, you wouldn't believe.

"We still have more two hours-ish before everyone come, do you wanna more ice cream?"

You think you gonna vomit.

Dick was being all sweet and gentle with you, but right now you just want to run away, what he even helps you do; in the moment you fell the teats coming back after quite a while, you first instinct is to ask for to go back to your room. You couldn't have this anymore, you couldn't just be here knowing at every second it would turn upsidedown all again.

And he helps your without questionin.

He guided you until your room again, without saying a word. He holded you while shakily walking and kissed your forehead before going away and closing the door, like you was some child.

You passed the other two hours you had alone, without able to say a word, laying in bed like some kind of a sick people, and you couldn't hear not even a noise from around the masion, you imagined that Dick was being similar to you in a way.

And when you hear the first motorcycle parking outside of the manor, you first instinct is to run. You knew it wasn't Bruce, but your mind didn't care. You was bassically melting with the bed,

You couldn't see your kids like this, you barely have energy to think about Bruce right now, see they only would worse everything, and that make you fell like a horrible dad.

The mirror Infront of you catches you eyes, the one that replaced the one you broke in the start of your crisis; is the first time you properly look at yourself since you woke up, and you're disgusting.

You looked dirty, gross, out of place, a really fucked up woman, and in maybe one hour you will have too look at your husband and convince him that this is a man, when you don't even believe it right now.

Waist, chest, legs, head, even your misery was a woman.

You don't wanna do it, you don't wanna lose him, but even if you don't talk about it, he will want to talk about it, he will look at you like you deserve gentleness somehow and ask about it until he can.

"Everyone saw what happened yesterday, you don't bullshit me right now! [Deadname] was totally fucked up and you don't have the right to act like I'm being the lunatic here" Jason's voice was hearable from your room. He talked with so much anger and fear at the same time that for a moment you don't think it was Jason.

"Jay, I not saying any of that, I just asking for god's sake to relax, she is ok right now and just need space, please-"

Jason said something back, but you didn't mind hearing, you just laid in the bed and cover yourself with the dirty blankets and sheets, taking a deep breath before let the tears.

And voice after voice made you worse.

After Jason, it was Cass, them Duke, Tim, Damian, even Alfred. They were all begging to know what was happening to you, what was happening to their mother; hearing Alfred call you by your "name," without any honorific title in front of it, almost made you jump out of bed.

You don't know how long you was there, just crying or breathing in your bed, but when someone knocked on the door, you knew exactly who was without a word.

"Can I come in babe?" Bruce's voice was soft, sweet, the one he reserve only to you.

You didn't had any strenght to answer it in anyway, but he took your silence as a easy answer, and you slowly hear the old wood door be opened.

Waking up was almost as torturous as the previous night was on itself, not only because of the hangover that hit you like a truck, but also because instead of waking up in your bed with your husband, which wouldn't have been much better anyway, you woke up with an IV drip in your arm and Dick sitting in a chair a few feet away from you.

Despair was almost immediate upon waking up; you expected almost anything—an argument, a scream, an eviction notice, or any other legal measure to remove you from that house—but he just smiled in such a sweet, loving way that it almost made you want to cry as much as the night before.

He kissed your forehead, helped you get out of bed, and basically just spouted nonsense that you barely registered in such a careless way.

He was bubbly and as animated as ever, the situation barely registering, and you were increasingly reminded of the previous night's disaster.

Even after being so drunk that you basically passed out while talking and vomited on your husband's ridiculously expensive shoes, you also embarrassed yourself enough as you drifted in and out of consciousness in the car. Not that you could remember what you were actually saying; the only thing that came to mind was how ashamed you must have been.

For a few minutes you just wanted Dick to stop, to stop being so sweet and so endearing. You wanted him to yell at you, to scream, or at least act angry, because then maybe the memories after the fainting accident would be nonexistent, or maybe, his chatter was good anyway, since you didn't even recognize yourself when you were out of the room and without the IV attached to your arm.

He slowly guided you through the house, helping you down the stairs, and never once did he shut up. It was about how Haley, the three-legged dog he'd adopted some time ago, didn't like her new food, or how Tim was almost failing a college course and was reallly embarrased, or how Damian had thrown a tantrum about taking a bath last night because he wanted to stay with you.

Damian… Your memory of the previous night with the youngest had been quite complicated. You were too drunk to remember what the boy was actually saying, but you clearly remembered the crap your drunken brain had heard at the time—some nonsense about women and betrayals, so vulgar it would never come out of Damian's mouth, or even anyone else's in that family, directed at you.

But you remembered the little fright he'd had when you broke the glass with your own fists. It wasn't anything serious, barely noticeable, and not a big deal, but something inside you ached, even more than it already did, for having done that—and thought those horrible things—in front of your little boy.

"Wait, where is everyone?" It slipped out of your mouth without even thinking properly when you realized the silence in the house.

Your children would never let you get away with a situation like this, whether for good, like what Dick was doing, or for bad, like showing you millions of photos and videos of your most embarrassing moments, which probably wouldn't happen that often.

And Bruce, in his right mind, would never let you wake up alone like that, at least not willingly.

Perhaps you should have realized this sooner, when you were still descending the stairs so slowly and not a sound had been heard except for Dick's voice. Not even Alfred seemed to be in the mansion.

And when you heard the sigh that escaped him, your mind finally calmed down in an almost predatory way.

"I put them out, Tim's at his boyfriend's apartment, Damian and Bruce are with the Kents, Alfred is visiting a new market, Jason is in some safe house somewhere, Duke went to visit his parents, and Stephanie and Cass went out to buy something." You didn't even want to know what the hell he said that convinced so many bats to leave the house at the same time and was scared to know. "I thought you'd feel more comfortable with just us here for this conversation."

And with that, he helped you sit in a comfy chair in the kitchen, which you had barely noticed had finally arrived, but the words that came out of his mouth made you painfully aware in seconds.

Dick wasn't the second-best detective in the world for nothing. At least as far as you remember, you never actually said the word, but you knew very well it would be about that.

He must have noticed the way the blood drained from your face, because, somehow, in a way you didn't think was possible, he looked at you with more sweetness and more love. Placing another kiss on your forehead, he turned his back and let out another small sigh.

"Let me make something for you, okay?"

You said horrible things to him and with him, you told him not to call you "Mom," you told him not to even call you, you practically called yourself a bitch in front of him.

The noises of him fiddling with different utensils and pots made it very clear that you would vomit the moment you put anything in your mouth. The silence was enough to make you nauseous; the only other noise, besides the ambient noise, was the small murmur Dick made, which you probably shouldn't have been hearing.

You were awful to your boy without even giving him a chance, and not only were you awful, but you made it clear what kind of thing you were, and he was still here, he had still kissed you sweetly and was, without even blinking, making you coffee.

"I'm sorry…" Of all the people in this family, the one who had the least trouble with forgiveness was you, well, it was what came with the job of being a mother of multiple children who dressed like a traffic light and hit adults before they could even drive, but the look Dick gave you over his shoulder made you, for the first time, regret an apology.

"I-I was so drunk, Richard, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, Riri…" It had been years since that nickname had come out of your mouth to call your boy. As the years go by, some rather childish nicknames tend to die out naturally, so even though no one had ever commented on it, you avoided calling Richard, a grown man, by such a childish nickname.

But in a moment of despair like that, you just wanted to go back in time and have your boy back in your arms.

And maybe that was the last straw, the thing that made the tears run shamelessly down your face and the pain in your chest spread. He was so far away and so distant that you covered yourself with your own arms to avoid looking even dirtier.

But the distance seemed small after, in seconds, you felt Dick put his arms around you.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, you shouldn't have heard any of that, I was so stressed with everything, and-and damn it, I apologize so much, so much, you shouldn't have known about this or seen me—"

The tears stole your breath and your voice, leaving the words stuck in your chest and even more painful. You didn't know exactly which part you were apologizing for, but you knew that everything would be a good answer.

And for a long time he didn't answer, for a long time was just you, your sobs and his arms, because you refused to even exchange glances with him.

"I didn't have to see what? You was so scared yesterday that I didn't even knew what to do" His voice was almost as broken as yours, something that chilled your spine, and only made you shrink further into yourself.

"N-no, you don't understand, I-I'm not normal, I shouldn't have this, I lied! I've been lying for years to you, to Bruce, to literally everyone, why do you think I—"

You stuttered and got lost in the middle of what was coming out of your mouth. You didn't want this conversation to be like this, and apparently neither did he, but you could barely control yourself.

You lied to everyone around you, about something basically unforgivable that you're barely ashamed to admit in this situation.

In a single night, your secret managed to screw up your relationship with everyone. You did that shit with Damian, treated Bruce like a dog, and now you're making a drama with Richard, and it shouldn't even be noon yet.

And without a doubt, whatever happens will reverberate within minutes with the others, who, even though they somehow have nothing to do with the story, you managed to be psychotic enough to drag basically children into this mess.

And now, one of them is having to pick you up as if you weren't the supposed adult while you cry.

You weren't supposed to react like that; you were just supposed to leave, just accept the divorce and get out of the damn house, but even with everything, in the end you still played the victim.

It would have been much more accurate if they still considered homosexuality a disease, because that would have been the best description of this moment.

"I don't think you lied." Richard's voice was almost as sweet as before, it just wasn't quite the same because you could feel the weight he carried in his throat along with the tears that almost joined yours. "Yesterday you were so… scared, that well, I guess it makes sense. I-I didn't think I was giving off, well, we were giving off the image that you couldn't come to us with this, but like—"

"This has existed for a long time before you." Richard was a compassionate man, but it didn't help him to remain oblivious to what was really happening. He acted as if he knew what was going on; you could see the glint in his eye that said he was better than you, better because he was more human. "I never told the truth. I've had this shit inside me for years and I don't even know… not even Bruce knows. I lied, I lied to everyone, and you think he's going to want to date a fucking tranny? Fuck, you don't want something like that either. Do you think it's right for me to lie about this just to take the place of a woman who deserves so much more? Selina and Thalia are practically killing me to take my fucking place, and they're more than right!"

With, almost, a slap, harder than you would have liked, you pulled away from his arms and stood up from the chair, as unsteady as a drunken animal, which was also a good description of what you were anyway.

You could feel the anxiety burning your veins, the way fear slowly crept in until every inch of your skin trembled; in the same way, you still didn't have the courage to look at the other man.

"I married Bruce knowing this, I met him knowing this, you weren't even born when this started, Richard. I… I'm sick, and look, I tried, okay? I tried so hard to get back to normal, but I simply can't. I wanted to be a good mother and a good wife because I… I loved all of that, but for God's sake, just let me out. I won't be able to look Bruce in the face after this, damn it, I can't even look at you. Forgive me, but I tried so hard to be a good mother… I wanted so much for you to want me as your mother, I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry."

"Of course I want you as my dad, what are you talking about?"

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the scream that came from his mouth.

Richard was expressive, but this was almost a desperate scream, a mixture of anger and fear; what left you almost cathartic wasn't even that, it was how he didn't even flinch or call you "Dad."

For a second, it was easy to hear the essentially silent tears streaming down his face, but he didn't hesitate to let out another scream like that.

"I was so scared when I was little of what my parents would think about my relationship with you. You basically raised me, you did everything for me, even when I didn't want to look at Bruce you were there for me. I don't care if you're a woman, a man, or anything else, just please, never say anything like that again in your life."

You didn't know if it was about asking him to send you away, if it was the almost suicidal talk you were almost involuntarily giving off, or all the awful things you'd said when drunk, but it gave you the courage to finally look at him.

Richard was a good man, a very good man. You didn't expect even half of what he was doing, in both good and bad ways, and looking at him and seeing the tears streaming down your face explained a lot.

But you weren't a good enough person to believe something superficially.

"I think I'm a man." It basically slipped out of you without you even realizing it.

"Okay," he replied in the blink of an eye, without questioning anything or even making an expression.

You didn't even know what to answer.

"If Bruce finds out about this, he'll break up with me." It wasn't a contextualization; you said it almost as a fact.

"He won't. He's straight, but above all, he's in love with you. And if he does, I'll go with you."

He spoke as if everything were easy, as if this wasn't your life, as if this couldn't kill you, and it only made you cry more.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry… I wanted to be normal." Suddenly, the eye contact is too much, too strong, and you break down, staring fixedly at the floor once more. You almost felt stupid for saying this at the tender age of 30.

And once again, he didn't hesitate to put his arms around you.

"You are one of the best people I've ever met in my life. You have no reason to apologize; you were just scared, very scared." He sat you down in the same chair as before, almost as if you were light.

"I'm sorry for saying things that made you uncomfortable last night, and I'm truly sorry for making it seem like I would not only reject you, but that I might not accept you at all. I still love you with all my heart, truly, and I would love to call you Dad, or whatever else you want to be called."

The flashes blind you while you walk down the red carpet, followed by your family, while hear all variants followed by "Ms. Wayne"....

"Ms. Wayne look at the camera please"

"Ms. Wayne, over here"

"Ms. Wayne, about your next movie..."

"Ms. Wayne did you heard..."

"Ms. Wayne, this dress...."

You're going to leave this party sick.

The ballroom, as always, was excessively glamorous, the imposing chandelier dominating the high ceiling—you still had vivid memories of how all your children made it their mission during these parties to climb on it, the main one always being Dick, without a doubt. The tables, all beautifully set with floral arrangements and small golden decorations, were surrounded by members of the press—and one of your biggest disappointments of the night was that neither Clark nor Lois were coming—they were just waiting for a chance to get a statement.

The waiters carried up and down some fancy dishes, 99% of which contained fish or had some French name that translated to something else entirely different, but what wasn't surprising was how many socialites and elite members already seemed to be expecting your arrival—well, more your husband, in a way, but anyway.

You'd barely taken five steps into the hall and went from being harassed by paparazzi to socialites and reporters, but at least no one was shoving anything in your face and at least they were trying to be minimally calm, and that usually only lasted the first 20 minutes, then they'd lose interest and just wait for the "Brucie" chaos to begin. But it still irritated you deeply.

And maybe you were already too irritated and let out some reaction, which wouldn't surprise you since in less than half an hour your patience had basically run out, but you quickly felt Cass pulling you and Damian out of that little mess and quickly dragging you basically to the other side.

"Let those three deal with it…" Cass said, letting go of both your wrists and turning to look at something on the table near you. Well, whoever was receiving the barrage of questions certainly wasn't one of the three of you there, so that only elicited a small chuckle as a way of saying thank you.

But then she turned around, almost strangely casually, and said for the tenth time that night the same thing everyone else had said.

"You really didn't need to come [Name], I understand you wanted to keep us company and feel you have to come, but if you need to, we can get you out of here anytime." Her tone of voice was ordinary and expected, simply sweet and commonplace.

There was nothing particularly special about what Cass said that was truly different from the thousands of other times other people had said it, but somehow it chilled you to the bone.

Maybe it was the absence of the little "Mom"—you barely remember the last time Cass had called you by your name like that—or maybe it was the fact that you finally recognized you were in a place you genuinely didn't want to be anymore, and you couldn't bear the act of simply leaving. Well, you don't know, but this situation felt strange to you, almost like those movie scenes where the music dies, the camera loses its brightness, and the character realizes they're in a movie, and you just stood there in the corner without saying anything while Cass and Damian quickly left as if nothing had happened.

And obviously you just took a deep breath and walked over to the nearest waiter, grabbed the fullest champagne glass from the tray, and downed it without even blinking. This party was really going to be great.

The main focus of the party obviously already had a target: your husband. And you weren't really worried about these parties; being Bruce Wayne's wife was already too much. So you'd get your share of interviewers following you and guests either looking for gossip or simply trying to socialize, which was more than enough. And it wasn't like any of the kids—well, maybe Dick, but for reasons similar to Bruce—were interested in the spotlight in any way.

It would be easy, as always. Your only major concern was that Damian would be influenced by his brothers again and try to climb onto the chandelier once more, but anyway.

The room was large, with more than enough space to walk around and be interrupted every 15 steps, almost bumping into about 20 waiters before getting more and more champagne, and another, and another… well, there's no way a grown woman like you could get drunk on champagne, is there?

The party was still in its early stages, barely 10 PM, and they usually went on until 1 AM or even later, so you wandered around the large hall trying to avoid conversation as much as possible while the others did who-knows-what; Bruce and Tim were probably still being held captive by the socialites.

People frequently asked you if you weren't jealous of Bruce; he was desired by so many around the world practically daily. It was almost daily to see someone flirting with him, either directly or through an inappropriate comment on some internet post. Your answer almost always was a simple no, followed by how much you trusted your husband, but in reality, it wasn't that simple.

While you watched Bruce from a distance conversing with a couple and another single woman, already holding a glass of champagne that you knew very well he wouldn't actually drink, your mind wandered a little as you appreciated the gleam in his eyes.

Well, yes, in a way you weren't exactly jealous, and yes, obviously you trusted your husband. The problem with these issues was that most of the time people asked if you weren't afraid of being cheated on, but that wasn't your fear. Your fear was simply that he would get tired of you or realize what was happening and leave you for someone who was more suitable for him, which, well, wasn't anyone's fault in that situation, right? Much less his. Your husband was a heterosexual man, good for him. You would never blame him for asking for a divorce if and when he found out. Obviously, that would be devastating for your life; you don't even know if you could handle such an act, but he had his right, the right to feel betrayed or perhaps even disgusted.

The day Damian arrived at the mansion was still etched in your mind as a great example. Everyone in the house was freaking out about Bruce having a 9-year-old son that nobody knew about, a son who had been trained in the League of Assassins, but your mind was still on Talia. You knew of her existence, of course, but the way she arrived, the way she explained how Damian had been created with multiple DNA samples from Bruce and her in a laboratory, and raised in a capsule, still terrified you, because it was clear how she would seize any chance to have Bruce for herself, and how there was a high chance Bruce would seize it too.

Talia was everything you would never be; she was a beautiful and strong woman, one of the best fighters in the world, with frightening intelligence. She had been raised to be the best woman possible, and she achieved that goal, so you, in a way, wouldn't criticize Bruce if he ever left you for a version of yourself that was simply more womanly than you.

Of course, your relationship with Talia itself was complex. Obviously, Damian had a lot of affection for her, and she for him. She tried everything to give this boy a good life, so for the sake of the boy, who was also your son somehow, whenever Talia came up in conversation, you tried to remain impassive, mainly because you had barely spoken to her alone more than three times. But she still maintained an obvious level of disdain for you. The little that Damian spoke of her around you in recent years, however, implied that for the boy's sake, she also tried to remain impartial around him.

Which was your worst nightmare. Bruce probably wouldn't be with her as a first choice because of her history, but if she recovered? You didn't stand a chance.

And that applied to almost all the women in his life: Selina Kyle, Vicki Vale, Zatanna Zatara, and the list went on. There was no one happier on this planet than you when you found out that Harley Quinzel and Pamela Isley were lesbians.

And perhaps not much time had passed like that, but the more you watched your man receive all that attention, the more glasses you downed, until you simply got tired and went to the bar and ordered a glass of whiskey.

It wasn't the most lady-like drink in the world, but you're not much better off, so what does it matter?

You only snapped out of that strange trance inside your own head after hearing Dick's deep voice beside you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you drink so much in public." His voice was thick and sweaty, almost as if he were being very careful about the situation.

He seemed gentle and sweet; you could barely look him in the eye. He was your baby. When did he grow up so much? When did he become a man?

"You and Bruce are annoying." Many things leaked from your mind, but that was the only thing you said before downing the glass of bitter whiskey.

And during those few seconds, Dick didn't even answer. You didn't look at his face, but you wished you could guess what he did or thought.

Because a man like him couldn't make fun of a woman like you, a man like him didn't need to remind you how much better he was than you just by existing without wanting to kill someone.

"I think it's best to call Bruce to stay with you…" You heard his voice together with the felling of his hand in your shoulder, something that probably happens so often every time you guys are in the same room that is usually just one more thing, but something inside you burned.

"Leave me alone Dick" you hit his hand away and also don't make yourself the favor of turning at him, just once more imagining his reaction to your tone of voice, way more strong than the usual, you wasn't even sure if you was just saying his name or calling him a dick.

You just heard a very small "ok" coming from him before he go away, and you turn to order more of the fancy whiskey that itched your mind.

And one more glass, one small talk with a socialite, small talk with some stupid rich C.E.O that think you are better than him because he has a dick, than one more glass of champagne, then slowly pose for a picture that reporter definitely tough you didn't notice, than one more glass, and more socialite gossiping about people you barely remember the name, and more glasses and where did the sound from a camera come from?

You watched the hall fill up more and more and didn't even bother glancing at the clock because you would only regret, you only kept yourself sat in the bar asking for more and more drinks and ocassionaly getting something made with shrimp or other expensive sea food thing from a waiter nearby.

And why the fuck Damian is here?

He looked at you almost judgmentally, as if he were making it clear that he knew he had superior blood, as if to show how much better he was than you, you already knew that why the fuck this brat need to remind you that?

You almost jumped when the boy suddenly appeared beside you, and he didn't even flinch when his frightening appearance taked a reaction. You didn't even hear what came out of his mouth, you only watched his mouth move in that expression like you wasn't better then the floor you walked. For you he was only murmuring bullshit, probably something about how his mom was fuckin Bruce way better than you or how he was begging for her again.

Because he was, right? He needed more and better, he didn't need a fuckass tranny in his bed when he could be fuckin every other woman in earth, maybe he is also fuckin a french super model while you was in work, or maybe bending Selina Kyle on some dirty rooftop while he was on patrol or recording a sex tape eight Vicki Vale on the bathroom right now while you are here, acting like a dirty alchie and crying for not being able to recognize your own place. Maybe he would ask the divorce? But you can see him liking the idea of cheating on you, seeing you like this, destroyed and cheap, but who wouldn't.

He was better, anyone could be better than this. Better physical, better mind, better world.

And the only thing you could do is sit there and watch and literally any fuckin man do better at you, while they all lives they life while you are here to rot simply because you don't have a cock big enough or maybe simple because you was a aberration.

Crash!

It was almost like a bubble popping; everything around you cleared up almost instantly in a matter of seconds. It was basically gratifying to no longer have that feeling of pressure around you, as if you were about to burst.

But you also quickly realized you could hear even less than before. You turned around and noticed Damian's abrupt change in expression. The boy looked at you almost in shock, something you hadn't seen on his face in a long time. In front of you, the bartender stood staring at you with an almost expressionless face, and the people around you stared at you with almost as much disbelief as Damian. You felt something dripping onto your lap.

His gaze slowly finally turned to you, specifically to your lap, where a few meters above it, your hand was dripping blood onto your dress, and half of the glass from what had been a cup in your hand had fallen out. The other half was stuck in your hand and glowed red.

Your first thought was how much longer it would take for your hand to heal, the second came accompanied by Damian's hand on your shoulder, which made you feel a burning sensation at the touch, making you wonder if it really wasn't worth jumping out of the nearest window.

And before a third thought, you felt a much larger hand on your back, also burning, and almost magnetically your first instinct was to run, but not before bumping into the man behind you and freezing or feeling the burning sensation rise in your throat. And suddenly it was easy to see that the man's shoes, which you gracefully consecrated with bile, too much alcohol, and disgustingly salted shrimp, were identical to the leather dress shoes Bruce was wearing.

And quickly it wasn't just your stomach and throat that burned, your face quickly began to match them too, and there wasn't a drop of hesitation in your body before you slapped his hand away and left that place.

That's exactly why you couldn't have more, that's why you were nothing more than a replacement. You just vomited on your husband's thousand-dollar shoes in the middle of a party, and now you're running away? A whore might have more respect than you.

Your legs ached because of those damn heels that you didn't even think were pretty, but they were expensive enough to give a good impression for Bruce Wayne's toy. That's why you couldn't have nice things, because the moment they gave you a drop of freedom you ruined everything for everyone, no matter what, and you only realized you took those shoes off when your hand burned from touching them and when the sound of them hitting something reached you.

It felt like you were being drowned in a basin of water again because even forcing the glass in your hand harder and harder to try and get a reaction out of yourself, nothing happened. Did Bruce really need a tranny who was so shameless that she wasn't ashamed of ruining herself even more? It was supposed to be a mild and cool night, but your blood burned through every inch of your body. Sometime after who knows how long, you found yourself outside the hall near many plants, and it was as if your skin burned, almost making you fall, not even the concrete below you made something.

Concrete?

You don't have a clue where you are, can just see the dark and dirty sky of Gotham above you and all this bullshit around you.

You couldn't worry, you couldn't do anything, because it's all your fault, you don't have anyone to blame.

Suddenly the glass clusters in your hand really weren't enough, and you looked at the few plants that were in pots and not in the ground or any other mess; it was funny how even a plant was more of a live being than you.

Did you have the right to complain about them? Perhaps you were so lowly that simply wanting to complain was invalidated, which was easy to see happening. Well, you didn't know if you could, but in the blink of an eye another loud bang of something breaking happened once again less than a meter away from you, and this time everything was dirty, your hands, your dress, the floor.

Everything was covered in dirt, pieces of the shattered beige pottery, and your blood, dripping from the hands who did this mess onto the floor. But it didn't even come close to giving you the same feeling that the glass had given you; something was missing from yourself.

How could you be so useless that you can't even hurt yourself? It would be easier to just grab one of those splinters and shove it up your neck.

Damn it, how could you be so useless that you couldn't even hurt yourself? It would be easier to just grab one of those splinters and stick it in your neck at once.

And for a second, maybe less, your mind barely thought before taking a splinter to your neck, but also in a similar amount of time it flew out of your hand without you even noticing.

"Mom, listen to me, you're drunk, you're not thinking straight for God's sake, Dad's talking to people inside, let's go home, please." Your older baby's voice was so scared it almost snapped you out of that trance, and slowly you could see more of his face.

You don't even know where he came from, but Dick was obviously not okay. He seemed so scared. He was holding your arms so tightly that it almost made you feel safe. He looked almost mortified, and it had been so long since he'd looked like that, and it had also been a long time since those words had come out of his mouth, and you hated every syllable.

"Don't call me that!" It burst out of you with such force that it was the final blow that pulled you out of that fog that consumed every inch of your body.

"Okay, okay [Name], look, just breathe, okay? It's okay, stay here with me for a little bit, okay?" His firm hands slowly guided you down until you sat on the small part of the floor that wasn't all dirty with soil or multiple pieces of ceramic. "Breathe, okay? We'll leave here in a little while, they'll get the car, and then we'll go home."

His tone of voice, although a little better, still sounded almost scared.

"Don't call me that either!" When the tears started streaming down your face, it was still a mystery to you. You could only focus on how, in less than a night, you had lost all your dignity.

Dick's hands slid from your forearms to yours, and he held them so gently that it only made your tears flow more. They were barely healed from the time you destroyed your mirror, and now you would only make everyone see what was happening.

"Hm, okay, what do I call you then?" Dick's voice remained so sweet that it only seemed to worsen the situation.

"I don't know! I hate this, I hate being [Name], I shouldn't even be here." You could barely hear your own voice, but you genuinely had no idea if it was because you were ruined and sobbing or because you were seconds away from fainting.

"Relax, just a few more minutes, okay? We're going home soon." Dick seemed horribly lost; he must have been expecting a nickname or something, not another blatant complaint from a drunk, middle-aged woman.

"I don't want to go to the manor Richard, I don't want to go to that damn place, please, please don't make me go." He got closer and closer to you, and what should have been a hug barely registered in your mind.

"Why? Look, you're drunk and not lucid at all, but I can take you to a safe house or—"

"Dick, for God's sake, stop treating me like I'm some kind of woman!" You don't even know where you got the strength to scream, but it was easy to feel Dick pulling away. "You don't treat Tim, Jason, or Damian like that, Bruce doesn't treat you like that, I know it doesn't matter because I have a vagina but it's not like I want to like it, okay? You think I didn't just want to be a normal guy? Hell, I could even accept being gay, but I'm much worse than that, I'm horrible, I'm nothing more than a dog that you can treat however you want, just because I was born wrong and can't go back to normal, I don't even know if I'd rather be a frustrated, stupid but normal woman or just any man without any of you in my life!"

And the darkness came almost like a literal shock, because you only felt your head shrinking more and more before everything went black.

He even came to see you in the hospital after your surgery, to throw cheap beer at you and make a stupid joke about boobs that you secretly appreciated.

And now you have him trying to get one more round, again.

"Give me a second, my god Jason" He kept nagging you to go for another round while you tightened the bandages around your hands, unconcerned about the outcome of this one as well. "You're big, way too much muscle, and you don't know how to use that to your advantage. You need technique, not just brute strength."

"No shit Sherlock" Obviously, the intention of the evening was to teach Jason how to do that technique, but by now it had been forgotten and it was much more fun simply casually sparing.

You two have similar physiques; the difference is that you knew how to use your muscles or not, which wasn't really Jason's area anyway, considering he always carried at least one glock. But you kept insisting that he and the others, who were very similar in that respect, should at least try, since in your view the little toys they love to carry is not as fun as how you do it.

But seconds before the two of them stepped onto the mat again, Jason's phone started vibrating with messages, and you took that to simply collapse on the floor while he picked up the device from the other side of the room.

Jason kept murmuring something back but that you didn't pay enough attention. Just so seconds after it falls in that awkward silence of Jason typing you feel someone not aggressively kicking your side.

"How about a quick check-up in Old Gotham, hm?" Jason's smile stretched as he turned his phone screen towards you, showing you some document containing a map.

You returned a similar smile and snatched the phone from his hand as you stood up again in seconds. "Did the big bat allow me to go?".

You quickly glanced at the document, which mentioned suspicious activity in the more popular areas of Old Gotham over the past few weeks, along with the disappearance of multiple people of the Narrows, which only increased your curiosity.

"Red is asking for me, Bruce don't need to know about you" Jason said, taking the cell phone from your hands but with almost the same smile before starting to remove the bandages from his hand.

You and Jason had been close for years, but still, no one in the family had ever seen you. Obviously, they knew about you, given how often you roamed around this city, so, breaking Batman's rules and getting a case like that was enough to get you ready in under 20 minutes.

You've never been to Old Gotham before, one of the most memorable and chic parts of the city, but for Red Robin to ask Red Hood It probably meant it was much more than just rich people crime.

The designated location for the analysis was a luxury commercial building, the perfect place for a not-so-hidden crime.

The drive there was quick and easy, just the sound of two motorcycles roaring on the asphalt in the middle of the night. The documents sent by Red Robin suggested that even they didn't have much of an idea of ​​what was going on, so Jason's task, and yours now, was basically to clean up the area, mainly the law office in one of the upper floors.

Simple, but good enough for a good night.

The building wasn't just fancy on the outside, but on the inside too, especially the law office section, which was almost excessive, a thing like that was usually a warning sign, even if common.

Breaking into the building was easy; the lack of security was even surprising, but that wasn't all that bothered you.

You managed to get in directly through the window of the necessary floor, and at that same instant another chill ran through your body. Something was clearly wrong with this building, even though Jason said he didn't feel or see anything unusual at first.

You've been using your own body and your surroundings as weapons for years; you knew when something was wrong, but without enough immediate proof, Jason just started entering rooms without much extra care.

"I bet human trafficking" You followed Jason cautiously as he fiddled with whatever he could, you didn't even bother to respond to what Jason had said, but it wasn't like he expected an answer either.

The office was not only expensive but also methodical, and it was in the third room that the warning in the back of your mind began to bubble up; it couldn't just be imagination anymore, and when his hand touched the doorknob you just-

BANG!

Your body moved faster than anything; you didn't even think. One second the door creaked, and the next you grabbed the first piece of skin you could see moving inside, the person tried to fight back but you barely felt their hands on you.

And you only looked down when you heard the head you held slammed the table.

"OUCH! WHAT THE FUCK HOOD?!" And it was only then that you noticed the young man dressed in red and black with minimal yellow details and a mask like a bird's beak covering his face that you was pressing against a wall.

Amazing firt impression...

You let the kid go before he finished speaking and turned to Jason, who had a somewhat unreadable expression on his face, a mixture of shock, stress and a bit of mockery.

"Red Hood, who's this guy?" Red Robin is sounding not only really mad but terribly embarrassed, after be restrained by someone he never saw in his life in less than a couple of seconds. "I remember specifically requesting you to come alone for this"

"Why you even here? Don't trust me enough for a simple mission like that hm?"

Amazing start of a night....

"I fuckin told you I would be here, did you read the whole thing I send you?" and Jason didn't answer anything and you also didn't made the effort because the true was clear "And I very specifically told you to come alone!"

Red Robin stopped himself for take a deep breath and suddenly turn at you.

"Who are you?" You doubted he didn't know who you were by definition, but that it was just for some confirmation or to some understand of the situation.

"Outlaws members [ ]" Jason answered for you, knowing you wouldn't even open your mouth in this situation.

Tim looked at you head to toe and took what was probably the twentieth deep breath in least than four minutes.

"Why you even here?" He turned at Jason, waiting for him to answer in your name again. He sounded almost like you are personally interrupting his planes—What you technically is, but still.

"Oh my gosh, Jason has friends?"

Before Jason even start to answer, a high femenine voice echoed behind you out of the sudden taking the breath out all three man in the room.

"Oh fuck!" You shouted out pure shock without barely controlling your body. Maybe you didn't react aggressively because the voice called him by his real name, or maybe it was because of the animation on it.

What didn't made exactly a surprise when you looked behind you and saw a blond woman in a purple suit and other one in a full body black suit.

Spoiler and Orphan.

Makes sense.

And that also took another sight out of Red Robin.

You didn't even made the work of keep listening to whatever they would say, you just started to walk and pull Jason with you before listen to complains behind you.

That was not the type of problem you was seeking for this night, but at least, after a almost five minute unilateral conversation, Tim point was valid.

"Listen, you already here and Jason looks have trust on you, Batman doesn't need to know about you as long as you cooperate with the mission." One of the best ideas of that night so far.

What you swear did made Steph eyes shiny, with helped for your quick regret it, after the "How did you two meet?" Number one thousand and one.

She seemed quite excited to meet you, which you took credit for and wasn't really annoying, maybe a little too much, but anyway.

"Have you been in the scene for a long time?" The scene. A euphemism among heroes to refer to their nighttime careers, which has become a habit in the community.

"A good five or six years, I think," you replied in a murmur while rummaging through another crate under a desk in the office that probably belonged to the most badass guy or something like that; the corporate side wasn't really your thing.

Jason was rummaging through some documents behind you, and Red Robin and Orpham had gone to check another room in the meantime, and Spoiler wasn't doing much besides talking.

"Hm... I've been here for a few years too, and aside from what Jason says about you, I've never heard anything about you in the past..." The hint of malice you finally heard coming from under her tongue almost woke you up. It was obvious that a bat wasn't just any person, and that it was obviously asking not only out of curiosity, but also for information.

But your first and only thought was: Thank goodness.

You did your best to make everything from your two and a half years as a vigilante disappear; remembering it and how you were doing on top of everything was almost nauseating.

"It took me a while to get out of the small fry on the streets," you replied without showing much interest, which you don't think worked very well, but at least the questions went back to normal.

Regarding the other two, you didn't have much to complain about. Red Robin seemed to be trying to be more professional, but the look on Jason's face made it clear that he was just embarrassed about being caught so easily without even being able to fight back. Orpham didn't say more than the bare minimum: "There," "Here," "Give it to me," "Please," etc., but you could still feel their eyes on you from behind the mask.

But about the investigation, this building was far too clean, in an exaggerated sense; even basic things you'd expect from a functioning law office seemed to have been removed, from the simplest things to what started worrying everyone in the room.

And then what was supposed to last about two hours dragged on all night after Tim simply suggested going to another building.

And even with a scene like that, Spoiler still didn't seem to have any intention of stopping the questions, even if they were now simpler or more disguised, and it wasn't like Red Robin wasn't clearly interested in them, and at least according to Jason, Cass was also interested, but you didn't provide them with anything more than the basics.

This second location, which Tim also considered a prime suspect since the first building seemed more like something related to money laundering or something else, was also a more luxurious building near the end of Old Gotham, and like the first, didn't stand out much from the other buildings around it.

This building was much smaller, however, so even if the intention was the same, it would be quicker. However, hearing another voice, this time coming from a very dark alley nearby in an almost stereotypical way, was no surprise.

"Was that an unintentional family patrol?" You heard the older voice emerge from the dark alley, and this time it was no surprise to see an older vigilante in a black and blue uniform come out.

"Dude, is your whole family involved in this case or what?" You muttered, which elicited an almost depressed laugh from Jason.

That would be a way too long night.

“Don’t say that too loud, the bat may come and pick up this guy too” Red Robin didn’t even had shame on pointing to you while saying that.

None of them said anything directly, but when in that same night, everyone was in the house eating in the same table after a long time, maintaining a deep and awkward silence, was enough to show you how it would work.

When they arrived, Dick, Jason, and Tim were more direct, asking very fast what had happened, they already knew, of course, but wanted to listen it form your mouth, but you gave them the same answer as Bruce, and was clear that no one believed that time, but the silence was louder after.

That night's dinner was probably one of the most embarrassing of the past year, but nobody wanted to admit it, everybody kept a close eye on you until the end, especially Cass. That was probably the closest to figure it out, but also didn't say anything.

And late that night you was dragged to the home theater to a movie night, itself not being the surprise but the fact that this time they convinced even Alfred, somehow. They practically suffocated you; everyone wanted to be near you in a way, even if they were trying to hide it, so you ended up with Dick's head in your lap, Jason on your shoulder, Cass hugging one of your arms, Tim holding your hand, Duke playing with your fingers and Damian was just in the corner of the couch with Alfred, and of course Bruce had to be content with the armchair.

You relaxed your mind and take breaths, trying to only think about the fact that you was soo appreciated by your family, and not how actually this make hurts a little more.

And during those two weeks, everyone became visually more considerate, if you can put it that way. It could be the subtle way Jason asked if you wanted him to pick something up for you after patrol, Tim that sometimes would call you just to talk nonsense about college or his boyfriend, how Dick would send you even more videos on TikTok and Instagram, how Duke would tell you about his day at school, Cass holding your arm when you two went out on the street, how Steph would not even think twice before start the gossip with you and how Barbara was voluntarily taking care of the comms since it.

Even Damian one day just randomly entered your office while you was working, sitted in a chair nearby and started draw, he entered and left the room without a word. You don't believe he was doing that for the same reason as his siblings, just was him slowly getting closer to you in his own way.

And Bruce was obviously the first to start, slowly holding your head against his chest and letting you listen to his heartbeat. In the firt night that happened, you accidentally let a couple of silent tear run away, what Bruce gladly kissed it away and without care. In the next morning he didn't asked a single questions, but in the night, waited for the same tears that didn't come, that made his anxiety calm down for a while, but it was worse to you, that only cried in the firt time because hear his heartbeat was just one more memory of what could you lost.

After that night your mind was slowly picking one and one more thing until it breaks, and of course you couldn't let that show, but you was surrounded by a bunch of people that barely know what was happening, so you could maybe let two tears get lost between the water of the shower in your face or one hidden one when you was eating breakfast by yourself way to early for anyone else in the house.

It was as if the second you grew older something that was hidden in the back of your mind come to the front and sew itself in your own skin. First it was your breasts, obviously, which, ever since you've understood yourself this way, were what brought you the most fear and disgust; then it was realizing how beautiful your waist looked in a silk dress, then how your vocal chords worked and the most recent one was how the face you see in the mirror all the time is so soft and femenine.

Every time you wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and realize yet another mistake, you take a deep breath, hold back the tears and your stomach to avoid vomiting, but it's still impossible to hold back the thoughts that fill your mind, and day after day you also comes to reality and see how you don't will handle much more.

And you don't even have to courage to say it out loud, but why would you do it anyway? For go away sooner?

So, the first involuntary thought is to at least enjoy it until your own brain kills you. You don't know what it will be like or how much more time you have, you'll just let your mind run wild until the fateful moment arrives.

By Thursday of the second week, almost everyone had returned to normal in a way; they were finally letting it go and you couldn't be happier. The routine slowly stabilized again, and the only one who continued with almost the same behavior was Cass, but Cass was Cass, so that was to be expected, and laying your head on the pillow that day was the first night in a long time that made you feel rested.

Bruce grabbed you by the waist before you even noticed, making you laugh loudly and clearly in surprise. He rolled you over on the bed, and in the end you were lying more on his chest than on the bed itself, but not that it was a complaint of any kind, and fell his sweet lips stifling your laughter, was also another thing that served as a calming effect.

And everything was going perfectly, if it weren't for the moment he took the sheet for you and kissed your temple before telling you about your nightmare.

"Feeling ready for the gala this Saturday, my love?" Fuck.

"Oh, yes! This year I just will come with a more simple dress so I didn't mind going shopping anyway" The smile on his face was almost the same as always in these situations.

He was talking about the autumn gala, that is a anual tradition, sponsored by W.E, in the same day every single year, but, you still manage to completely forgot about after it being buried in a sea of self-destructive thoughts.

He gently held your face with those heavy and strong hands that with you were always as soft as cotton. Bruce caressed her cheeks with his calloused fingers, which always made your chest warmer, honestly, in your current state, seeing your husband always trying helped you a little.

"You sure? I can always make you company if you want" He murmur in that deep voice that take your breath while hug you stronger.

"I really don't mind this year my dear" You try to say in the same tone for calm his nevers only to you heard a deep breath.

"Sweetheart, since that day you been... apathetic, distance, not here. I know you hate to worry us but please, please just talk to me or one of the kids, you are scaring us... I would do anything for you my dear" His voice was even lower than a whisper, as if he were afraid, something few had the privilege of seeing. "If you prefer, you don't have to go to the gala.

You didn't even know what to do; your husband's gaze and voice robbed you of any courage you might have had. He might be a 1,90 m man and the dark knight, but with you he was raw and sensible. A sensitivity that took the air out of your lungs and left you paralyzed as you stared at your own hands.

"I... I just... I need to go Bruce, I mean... Just..." You try to get something out of your mouth, but it's like nothing works, like you're panicking and can't even react.

After almost one whole minute of a very always pure silence, you felt his lips again, and it was almost as if you melted at his closeness, and that was enough for you to find yourself falling asleep on top of him a few seconds later, but mind still haunted by the memories of that infernal gala ball.

Appearing in public at this type of event was never really your thing, but you still had to make an effort because being the wife of the owner of Wayne Industries apparently made that a responsible. Every now and then a reporter might stop you to ask about your career, but the people who frequented these parties are so uncultured and small mind that the type of movie you do can't even cross their mind, so your job while there is basically just be pretty, something you despite, and other thing that just make you remember how you can't do the basic of what the people want from you.

You, Bruce, Tim, Dick, Cass, and Damian were the cast of the year, you just hope that at least nobody breaks anything or that nobody has a psychotic episode.

In the following morning, Bruce didn't question you anymore; he knew very well that trying to get anything out of you at that moment would only make the whole situation worse in a way, he just lingered a little longer on his touches, as if he were trying to capture some of what troubles you for him.

You tried your best to go about your day normally, you worked, did some revisions, listened to Duke complain about some teacher and took some time to look at a case that Tim had asked you to help with. But as night fell, the shadow of what was about to happen sent shivers down the spine; you hadn't even bothered to try on the dress you planned to wear, dragging along the maximum the misery that waited.

Even though the party only starts at 7 pm, the day passed in a blur; you could only remember how everyone stared at you. It was as if you had a strange dark aura representing your inside clinging to you that everyone could now see, made you embarrassed and scared but nothing you did take that out of you, along with the multiple "You don't need to go dear" and "mom, is ok, stay at home".

But you felt almost offended; you were capable of going, you had to go. What kind of miserable woman were you if you could barely keep yourself composed for a stupid party like that?

So, your real firt memory was of already being dressed in the form fitting satin black dress, so long that covered the amazing louboutin you had, with that deep v-line that It highlighted the delicate pure gold necklace that went up to the middle of your chest. With flawless makeup that accentuated the bright eyes with smudged eyeliner, and the hair perfect as usual.

And your second memory was how disgusting you looked, how you wanted to vomit while looking to that monster Infront of you, While feeling that disgusting sensation inside you growing stronger and stronger, tempting you to jump in front of the mirror once more, attacking that thing that seemed to be trying to kill you with just a look.

But when you turned around to the sound of the wooden door opening behind you, you turned with a small, gentle smile without even letting Bruce say anything.

"Do I look pretty babe?"

You didn't even properly looked at him before noticing his arms around your waist while spin you in the air.

That party was going to be your downfall.

Even before arriving at the Gala venue, every now and then someone, even Alfred who was just driving you to the event, kept talking about how it wouldn't be a problem if you decided to go back home without even getting out of the car. But you promised yourself that you would at least try to enjoy yourself, try your best to have a good night, even if forced, to prove your own point to yourself, that you could and would be a good wife, an even better mother, and a fantastic woman, so you even stopped responding to the comments.

Even before the car stopped, you were helping the boys straighten their ties with the greatest pleasure and the biggest smile in the world, while taking a deep breath before all those people were breathing the same air as you.

And a few seconds after the door opened, a shrill reporter's voice deafened you and multiple flashes blinded you.

You only truly regained consciousness when they were already taking you to the infirmary in the cave; you were still quite dizzy and disoriented, but it was easy to say that they didn't even know what to say.

You woke up in Bruce arms with the gentleness and safety you expected, and Cass walking behind you two with such silence that it was impossible for someone without training to notice. You thanked whichever entity that Damian was at the Kent's farm for the weekend and that Duke was at his aunt's house.

And when you went down into the cave and Alfred, who was already there organizing some things for you, started tending to your hands, that was when the room really got heavy, but it was something you expected.

The inside joke in the family was that you were the saint, the only one with your head on straight. It didn't mean you remained an untouchable doll all these years; you've cried in front of them out of nervousness about producing a new work, out of anxiety about a release, and had your share of panic attacks over the fear of losing your kids during a mission or injuries that no mother should see in their own kids. It was more of a way for saying you was the only one that had "normal" problems, a consequence of being the one that wasn't direct involved with vigilantism.

So, for them, one random morning, after a really good night, after waking up in a great mood, while getting ready for work, you simply shaterring a mirror with your own fist while derealizating was something none of them could even dream of; they could barely imagine you having a fit of rage, let alone something like that.

No one lies to a bat, not even other bats, but you were not only a bat, but you're Batman's wife, the man who made that code. You never really went out into the streets, you didn't have a fixed uniform or a hero name, but you drove the Batmobile more times than any of the kids can dream, you handled more communications and mapping than Oracle, you tended to more injuries than Alfred, and you were definitely extremely important to maybe one case or a hundred.

You adapted to so many things in the span of a couple years that no one even imagined half the things you thought. You weren't just smart, you were one of them, which sometimes got forgotten amongst so much chaos, but you are one of the best of them.

But right now the situation was different, because you let your guard down around one of the best at reading people. Cass stared at you from head to toe, with an anxious but not profound expression, at least to outsiders. You were well aware of the whirlwind of information as he meticulously analyzed each and every move you made.

And your mind was on par with hers, what would she say, what would the others say? Because you know very well that you have two hours until everyone else knows, maybe three if you're lucky, and if this infirmary room already has a horrible atmosphere where nobody even knows what to say, imagine when all the other bats, stupidly caring for you, arrive?

Because you not only let your guard down, but you don't even know if you can raise it again, you don't even feel like you'll survive if you stay like this, but you have no other alternative, you don't trust that you'll be able to hold back if they start questioning or harassing you too much, especially if Bruce does something similar, the idea of ​​seeing the reaction of the man you love so much while he discovers this perverse secret makes you want to vomit.

You've worked for years to stay here, and if it all ends like this, you don't even know what you're going to do with your life.

"[Name]? Can you hear me?" You heard Bruce soft voice finally bringing you back to reality. Apparently you dissociated so hard again that you didn't even notice when the other two leaved the cave.

You look to your hands resting in your lap, perfectly treated and fingers covered in bandages, but one much larger hand covers them and you bring you attention to your husband again.

"Sweetheart... What happened?" Bruce voice sounded awfully sad, what matched his expression that he was trying to hide. People often say that Bruce isn't more than a lovesick puppy when it comes to you, and you never doubt that, and that was what makes everything harder.

"I-I..." You try to sound more serious or maybe more put together but your cracked voice still gets over. It was the first time in years that you genuinely didn't have a clue on how to explain something. "I don't know, I was getting ready and started to zonig out and when I come back I saw what I did..."

Omitting was the best thing you could think of in that situation but also was the worse, you know damm well you don't will be able to hold it for too long.

"What you was thinking of? Did something happened at work those days or was something happening in the house?" Bruce just sounded more and more worry and it was breaking your heart at this point.

"I don't know? Maybe we should redo my blood tests? I just fell like... It was just unnatural of me you know" You even forced a heavy sight while your husband was just holding you stronger.

"I gonna call your work and say you need a day off and ask Alfred to redo your tests, ok babe?" You just nodded slowly while fell your heart aching as Bruce gets closer to you. "You know that I am here for everything you need, right darling? And if you ever fell that I am getting too distant you know you have all the right of scream how much as you wanna with me... Or maybe you can even talk to the kids or Alfred before come to me..."

No you are not here for everything, you don't want your wife to become your husband, you don't wanna me screaming in your face over how much I want to die, you don't wanna your family having contact with me after this, you don't wanna a man.

"Of course my dear" was the only words that come out of your mind, following a long a open wide smile that was dripping in silence fear.

Bruce may love you, and you don't doubt that, but hear him saying things like that hurts everything, because he doesn't even know half of what is happening, but this is all your fault, you can't even actually blame him for this.

In the end, he let you go with a kiss that was supposed alleviate your fears but it only made you fell more dizzy.

You went upstairs praying that Alfred had cleaned up for you, because there was no way you could do it yourself, but when you entered the room you not only found everything clean but also Cass, lying on your bed, with two small bowls of food.

"It's almost one p.m and you haven't eaten anything today…" She said without much emotion, but arranging the two small plates on the bed for you, which brought a genuine smile to your face at that moment.

Cass is the quietest of them all and your only girl—Steph would rather die than admit that you or Bruce were her parents—and sometimes you even feel that this makes some moments a little sweeter. She wasn't one to express what was happening with words, but this was her way of showing that she would be there.

You sat on the bed next to her and pulled her under your arm while you ate. You'd barely been in the room for 10 minutes and you could already feel her gaze, a look that said she knew something, but didn't have the whole story, so she was going to try, gently or not, to get you to talk.

But that's something she won't get out of you that easily; the idea of ​​seeing your little girl react to such news isn't easy on your mind.

"My brothers are having dinner here tonight, by the way." Yes, exactly two hours. You honestly prefer not to know how that exchange of messages went or what their reaction was.

Your boys are the loves of your life, just like Cass, but the idea of ​​having them around you, obviously trying to get information from you and not knowing what to do, was too stimulating for a day like that, but you knew that you couldn't avoid them for more than a day.

You didn't even answer, just sighed and shook your head slowly, for the tenth time that day, which was barely halfway through. It was to be expected that silence would now reign, while the two of them ate peacefully in bed, which would still elicit a complaint from Alfred, but you almost froze when you felt Cass snuggling closer to your side.

"I love you, Mom." Her voice was barely audible, a whisper so sweet it would warm anyone's heart.

"I love you too, my dear." You tried to respond in kind, kissing her forehead and taking a small smile from her. That's why you considered yourself one of the best among them.

You think you won't last much longer.

When you were little, you admired your mother so much, you saw her almost as a goddess—well, most children do. A mother is supposed to be one of the greatest loves of someone's life, but with you, that only lasted a short time, when you felt her hand forcefully on your cheek while her screams were muffled in the background.

You didn't even remember what you could have done at age 7 to cause this; the trauma probably hid behind many things, and honestly, you didn't want to know. You only remember, for a long time, not blaming your mother, but your father.

Being the product of an arranged marriage for political reasons was horrible, especially when your mother, one of the best women you had ever seen in your life, a sweet woman with so much potential, was trapped with a disgusting man who you were forced to call father. It was frustrating to see a woman who tried her best lose everything around him, including her own temperament because of it.

Now, as an adult, you realize that your mother wasn't exactly innocent in this situation, and that you had the right to be upset with her, but that this man was still the source of all the yelling and punishments.

Your mother wanted very little from you, when she wasn't having a meltdown, obviously. She just wanted a daughter, a good and gentle girl she could identify with and watch grow up smoothly. Your father, on the other hand, wanted many things: he wanted someone hardworking, someone who could take care of the company, someone recognized, someone extraordinary, but only the extraordinary within the ordinary.

At first, you cared far too much about what they both wanted; you tried your best, but it didn't take long for it to become obvious that no matter how many Oscars you won, a C- on your math report card would still mean more to your father.

Then, when adolescence arrived, you gave your father the most sincere "fuck you"; you'd rather lose your hearing from his yelling or feel your skin burning when he raised his hand to you than kill yourself for something that didn't even interest you. You had to deal with a lot of nonsense from him, really a lot, but you still feel that the results still been much better than what you could have done if you still had him on your mind.

You focused only on what your mother wanted, which, compared to your father and many other families, was extremely little, but it didn't take long for you to realize that you couldn't even do that, and it was way more horrifying.

It was the middle of the night at your fifteenth birthday party. You'd received so many amazing gifts and there were so many people you admired there, and oh God, you looked beautiful—best makeup artist, best hairstylist, and the best dress—it was big, sparkly, and no other girl could dream of anything less.

So why did you feel so dirty? The party had been a total blur. You'd put on the dress and now you were here, all the lights in the house were off, and you could barely look in the mirror in your closet wall. It was the first time you realized that the thing staring back at you wasn't you, and you only understood what was happening when your face was buried in the toilet bowl, feeling the bitter taste of bile burning your throat.

You weren't stupid, you knew what trans people were, but there was no way you could be one, there was no way that among all the misfortunes in your life you had to have this as well, because that way you wouldn't even be able to achieve the basics your mother wanted from you. How awful of a daughter would you have to be to not even be able to be normal?

You clearly didn't even dreamed of saying or doing something, you locked everything in the darkest place in the back of your mind, praying that one day that would be just a faint memorie of a confused teen. You never even spoke about it out loud, afraid that the moment you said it, someone would appear. And even if you tried your best to hide everything, to act as if nothing had happened, obviously your parents realized something was wrong right away.

They thought you were just a lesbian, but they never confronted you about it. It was the kind of issue that stayed on the back burner; everyone expected someone to say something someday, but talk only would make this look more real, and surely some ugly stares are way better than be kicked out your own house as a minor, so you didn't even bother.

But as time went on, even tho you still lacked the courage to verbalize it, you slowly began to gather more courage. Initially, your hope was to let it fester inside you, not bringing up the subject even after death, but when you discovered that your parents were willing to let you go to college where you wanted, a little spark of hope shined inside you. Especially when you saw your father's reaction to your plans for college, Film and Audiovisual Arts. You expected him to be furious, but this time it was as if he had given up on understanding you, he didn't look at you for one whole week; and that curiously gave you more hope.

Even though your mother didn't particularly liked or understood it, she still supported your choice. You two were a classic case of love, but without actually liking each other; you loved your mom, but was unable to like her as a person, and vice versa, but you knew that when you putted the first drop of testosterone in your body it would change everything.

You gave it your all, studied harder than ever, and when you finally saw that letter, you tough you would have the future as you wanted, finally having your life, not having to worry about your family. You entered Gotham University with one of the best grades between all the art courses. Many judged your choice, but not only did they have a huge campus and a great film department, believe it or not, it also was almost on the other side of the country, which only helped with your situation. Your father genuinely stopped speaking to you the same day you boarded that plane, but your mom would call maybe once a week for ask how everything was going, but after a while it also stopped.

In your first month you got a haircut, a low fade that miraculously turned out well, bought a binder, and immediately dove headfirst into research on hormones, but if anyone asked, the fear of what would happen if you admitted who you were was still to big to make you vocalize it.

But even though you were still small, that was the month you felt most at home; it was the only time in your entire life that looking in the mirror brought tears of happiness, a time when you could breathe and see yourself. Then, that idiot appeared in your life, that idiot who made you head over hells, that made you fall in love so suddenly for the first time in your entire life, Bruce Wayne.

Your romantic life had been confusing until that point, never truly fallen in love with anyone, a one-sided crush here or there during high school, but never even tried to do something about it. But that man, that man was driving you crazy. He had heard about you in the past because of your family bussines, but when you once mentioned that you didn't actually had much contact with them, he never brought this again, he never criticized your "Tomboy"-ish style, because that was what you were for the people, just a woman who didn't had problem being masculine.

At first, you never prayed so hard for a man to be at least bisexual in your life, because you loved him so much, so deeply much, that it hurt, almost hurt more than the idea of being someone's girlfriend. But on the same night that he confirmed to you that he was straight, he kissed you under a wonderful starry sky, and maybe, only maybe, you could hold out a little longer, just for a while, until he gets bored of you.

And when he dropped out of medical school and said he was going on some rich kid trip around the world for self-discovery, you did think he'd finally gotten tired of this, then, he told you to wait, and also had the weekly letters... and oh Lord, you was in love, so deeply in love.

Obviously, the relationship itself wanted to make you tear your own skin off; every time you bought a new dress for a date you would threw up, your hair fell out every time you heard the cute nicknames that are direct at a girlfriend; but you still loved Bruce. When he returned from his trip and you found out about the whole Batman thing, you thought that this would be what would finally made him put a end on this. You didn't want to actually broke up, as was clear to everyone on the world, you love him like no one else, but the ideia of being his woman, was still to much, and the fear of what he would do or say if he finded out about the truth inside yourself (even though when come to you he wasn't less than a lovesick puppy) was loud.

And he didn't even got close to do that, you two stayed together, and you stayed telling you "Just some more few months, or he'll get tired of me or he'll find out about it and broke up", but you still didn't want to break up, the ideia of lost the love of your life to some bullshit inside you was too much. And in a blink of an eye, somewhere between Dick and Jason, you said yes, had your weeding dress arrived perfectly, had all your works signed under the name you hate, was being used as a feminist icon in the cinematic industry, had the kids referring to you as mother and the world referring to you as Mrs. Wayne.

What the fuck you did to yourself?

You genuinely don't have any idea of how you didn't kill yourself yet.

You love your husband and you love your childrens, even though you don't share blood with any of them, but you hate the woman looking you back in this mirror.

But there's nothing you can do anymore. You are in your early 30's, a mother, a director and screenwriter known worldwide, an improvised nurse and an intelligence agent for a group of vigilantes. What would you say to Bruce? "You've been married to a transvestite for years without knowing it?" And the others?

Dick basically grew up with you, he calls you mom more often than call Bruce anything close to dad, he was your first baby after all. Jason was other one that didn't had much shame showing that he clearly preferred you over Bruce sometimes, he had so much faith and trust on you that was almost cruel do this. Tim was the one that didn't show a explicit preference, he was very embarrassed and very rarely called you mom or something similar, but you knew the felling was real. About Cass you didn't even knew how you would start to explain, she was extremely smart, even though she doesn't talk much, but socially, she still learning a lot. Damian was a full case apart, you love that boy, but his first year in the manor was basically you trying to convince him you wasn't trying to take his dad away from his mom, and even now, three years later, he was way better and they clearly are forming a bond, but this would be way to big. Also had Duke, that lived like 80% of the time in the manor, he wasn't even two years on their life's, how would you start?

And also there's the girls that love deeply, Steph and Babs, that you see almost like your daughters, but knew in the moment the whole family start to get distance, probably would fall along.

Is gonna do years you didn't actively thought about this, was like someone finally unlocked inside you after all those years all of the sudden, and you didn't even realize how that affected you. You only come back to reality when you heard Bruce voice less than one meter away from you.

You arms are loosen and the mind fogging was suffocating you. You didn't even notice the broken mirror or the glass in your hands and your own blood staining the floor of your bedroom.

"Babe, please, can you hear me?" You can't tell if Bruce was just struggling to talk or was your mind shutting down again, you just knew he sounded almost in panick. "[Name]?"