#godfather

---

You always wondered what it would take for them to care.

Would it be your absence? No, they never noticed when you left.

Would it be your silence? No, they never listened in the first place.

They only cared when they realized you were never coming back.

---

Being part of the Batfamily was a lot like being a ghost.

At least, for you, it was.

You weren’t the golden eldest son, the resurrected second chance, the genius detective, the silent assassin, or even the scrappy underdog.

You were just… there.

And that was the problem.

You weren’t a priority. You weren’t even an afterthought.

You were the one whose voice was always talked over in mission briefings. The one whose ideas were dismissed before they could even be considered. The one whose absence barely registered because, well, had you ever really been part of the conversation in the first place?

At first, you tried. You trained, you fought, you bled for Gotham—just like them.

When you got injured, there was no frantic check-up, no worried hovering. Just a passing glance and a muttered, *“You’ll be fine.”*

The first time you broke a rib, you had to set it yourself in the Cave while Tim typed away at the Batcomputer. You had been wheezing in pain, your movements stiff, but he never looked up, never asked if you needed help.

The first time you dislocated your shoulder, you had to pop it back in while listening to Dick and Jason argue over something stupid. When you let out a sharp gasp of pain, Jason barely glanced at you before continuing his rant.

When you got left behind on missions, no one circled back to get you.

The comms would be filled with their chatter, their coordinated movements, their triumphant victories. Meanwhile, you were stuck in some alleyway, bleeding, your voice drowned out by their excitement.

*"Guys, I need—"*

*"Mission accomplished! Let’s head back!"*

No one waited for you. No one even noticed you weren’t with them until much later. And even then, all you got was a casual, *“What took you so long?”*

When you stopped showing up for family dinners, no one asked why.

You used to sit at the table, quietly picking at your food, listening as they talked over each other. You had once tried to join in, only for Stephanie to jokingly talk over you—again and again and again—until Barbara finally snapped, *“Let her finish.”*

By then, the conversation had already moved on.

The next dinner, you didn’t bother speaking. The one after that, you didn’t show up.

No one commented on your absence.

When you started skipping patrols, no one noticed.

You expected Bruce to say something, expected at least a reprimand. Instead, all you got was a glance in your direction before he refocused on Damian, giving him feedback on his latest takedown.

It was like you didn’t exist.

And when you finally packed your bags and left, the Batfamily carried on as if you had never been there at all.

---

**The Neglect From Each Member**

**Bruce Wayne/Batman**

Bruce was the hardest to deal with. His neglect wasn’t as obvious, but it was the most profound. He would acknowledge you in passing, just enough to give the impression that you were a part of the family. He’d give you orders, but never the same praise or attention he reserved for the others. He rarely looked your way during briefings, unless he needed something from you. But when you were injured, it was always *someone else* who asked if you were okay—never him. When you left, he never pursued. In fact, the lack of pursuit made you feel even more invisible.

Bruce’s “concern” was an afterthought. If it didn’t affect him directly, he didn’t care. And when you left, the silence from him was deafening. He never once asked why.

**Dick Grayson**

Dick was supposed to be the older brother you could count on, but instead, he was more like the “cool” older sibling who forgot you existed once his focus shifted to *everything else*—especially his relationship with Barbara. He often shrugged off your attempts to have deeper conversations, brushing them off as “mood swings” or “attention-seeking” behavior. When you needed him most, his attention was always on someone or something else.

When you finally disappeared, there was a brief moment when you saw him again—barely a blink of recognition. The only words he offered were, “Oh, you’re back? Good to see you.” Like you hadn’t been gone for months.

**Jason Todd/Red Hood**

Jason's neglect was a bit more blatant. His was a mixture of disdain and indifference. He often teased you, belittling your abilities, calling you out for "overreacting" to things that genuinely bothered you. His jabs were cutting, but always with a smirk, always acting like it was just playful banter. It wasn’t. It was his way of saying, *You’re not worth my time*.

When you started to pull away, he shrugged it off with a *“You do you, Princess.”* It wasn’t until you were *completely* gone that he finally seemed to care. But by then, it was too late.

**Tim Drake/Red Robin**

Tim was the one who was supposed to notice. He was supposed to be the one who tracked your whereabouts, who kept tabs on everyone in the family. But even *he* overlooked you. When you were struggling, he was too engrossed in his tech, too absorbed in data to care.

When you started cutting off contact, he didn’t make the effort to reach out. Instead, he buried himself deeper in his work, refusing to acknowledge the rift forming between you.

It wasn’t until *you* were gone, until he saw the empty space at the table, that he finally realized. But the realization came too late.

**Damian Wayne**

Damian’s neglect wasn’t as much about indifference as it was about superiority. He believed that, as the *true heir* of the League of Assassins and the Wayne family, he didn’t have time for anyone beneath him—including you. He often dismissed your abilities, making snide comments about your “inadequacies” and *“lack of training.”*

But the truth was, Damian *wasn’t the one* who truly wanted to fight for you. When you pulled away, he just focused on his own “superior” missions. It wasn’t until much later that he realized you weren’t just skipping patrols—you were *gone*.

**Stephanie Brown/ Spoiler**

Stephanie was the loudest to brush you aside. She would joke with you, but it was always the kind of joke that made you feel like you were the punchline. When you tried to confide in her, she’d shrug it off with a *“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad!”* and then change the subject to something trivial.

Her neglect didn’t stem from hatred, but from a lack of depth in her understanding of your situation. She thought you were always the tough one, the one who didn’t need help. And so, she never gave it.

**Barbara Gordon/Oracle**

Barbara was distant in a way that left you longing for something that never came. She was always busy with her tech, eyes glued to her screens, constantly solving problems while ignoring the ones right in front of her. When you needed advice, she would offer it in the form of an afterthought, giving you a brief glance and muttering something like, *“You’ll figure it out.”*

She didn’t offer the emotional support you needed. She didn’t see the cracks forming. She only saw what was on the surface. And when you left? She never asked why.

**Cassandra Cain/Black Bat**

Cassandra’s neglect was quiet. She didn’t talk much, but the lack of communication was more than enough to leave you feeling abandoned. While she wasn’t cruel like the others, she was far too focused on her own personal demons to notice yours.

You could’ve been screaming for help, but all she would ever do was watch, silent, observing, never really *seeing* you. When you walked away from it all, she probably didn’t even realize you were gone.

---

**Joining the Air Force Was the Easiest Decision of Your Life**

The recruiter had given you the usual speech about honor, duty, and service. But honestly? You just wanted out.

“You have family to list?” he asked, pen hovering over the form.

You thought about it for a second. Thought about Bruce and his endless lectures. Thought about Dick and his empty reassurances. Thought about Jason’s scathing remarks, Tim’s distracted nods, Damian’s barely concealed contempt.

Thought about Stephanie’s jokes at your expense. Thought about Barbara never looking up from her screens when you talked. Thought about Cassandra offering a rare smile, only to turn away just as quickly.

Then, you shook your head.

“No.”

The recruiter nodded like he understood. “Emergency contacts?”

You smirked. “No one’s gonna come looking for me, sir.”

And you were right.

---

**Cutting Your Hair**

Your hair had always been a mess, long and untamed, a symbol of your disarray. But after you left Gotham, after you stepped away from the family that never cared, you knew something had to change.

So, one night, standing in front of the mirror in your small, unremarkable apartment, you grabbed a pair of scissors.

The snip was sharp. The strands fell away in thick chunks, leaving you with a new, fiercer version of yourself. Your hair, now cropped short, framed your face perfectly, emphasizing the sharpness of your features. It looked *badass*. It was a decision that made you feel more in control than anything you’d ever done back in Gotham.

You barely recognized yourself as the strands hit the floor. No longer a soft, neglected girl, but someone who had chosen this life. Someone who would never be dismissed again.

---

**Meeting Michael Corleone**

It was in the midst of that change, in the blur of military training and the raw intensity of the world you’d entered, that you crossed paths with him.

Michael Corleone—dark eyes, sharp suit, cold demeanor, a figure that commanded the room the instant he entered. And you? You were exactly the kind of person he liked to keep an eye on.

It was a late-night gathering at an officer’s retreat, and there, across the room, you saw him—the man who didn’t blink when dealing with the most powerful in the room, who never

hesitated to make hard decisions.

He looked at you for a brief second, like he was measuring you. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. Just one look, and you knew exactly what he saw.

You weren’t weak anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt... seen.

---

**The Batfamily Realized Too Late**

When the news hit Gotham, when the whispers started about the *new force* rising, they finally understood. It wasn’t just some random recruit.

It was *you*. You, the one they had neglected, the one they had abandoned without a second thought.

You were no longer part of their story. You had become a legend all on your own.

And now they were the ones left to wonder: What would they have done if they had just noticed you, if they had just cared when they still had the chance?

But by then, it didn’t matter.

---

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The smell of cigarettes fills the office before you know it, a light mist seeping through the curtains of the windows overlooking the lake. The afternoon light falls on a pile of documents on your husband's desk, Michael.

Thinking about it, you're no longer sure if he's really your husband... the old him vanished a long time ago. You take a few steps forward, keeping your gaze down and folding your hands in your lap.

The only sound is the ticking of the grandfather clock; you turn your gaze to watch it slowly swing from left to right. He sits behind the desk, leaning forward slightly to sign a paper. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, a sign of intense concentration.

He hasn't even noticed your presence, or perhaps he's simply ignoring you. You, in there, almost seem like an intrusion... it's a world built for him, not for you. The light from the lamp reflects off the polished wood, cutting the contours of his face in two.

You stop in front of the desk, your hands even tighter "Michael..." your voice comes out low, like a whisper... you hate yourself for how fragile it sounds "I need to talk to you" he doesn't look up immediately, he leaves you there, feeling the weight of your own voice as if he wanted to teach you the right measure of words, then finally he says softly "I'm listening."

You take a step closer... you don't know why your heart is beating so hard - perhaps because you still love him, perhaps because you hope the man you once knew will return "I need to know. Everyone's talking, saying things... about you, about your family. I... I can't go on living like this."

He doesn't answer right away, simply looking up from the paper and placing the pen next to it. He shifts back in his chair so he can cross his left leg over his right. He folds his hands in his lap, just like you are doing right now "Do you know what your problem is, darling?"

His voice is low, almost affectionate... almost "It's just that you think the truth is your right, but that's not the case. The truth is a burden, and I keep you away from that burden because I love you. You have the right to live a quiet life, not to get your hands dirty... that's your right."

At that point, he slowly raises his eyes to you, that gesture - just that - is enough to make you take a half-step back. You feel trapped even though there's no chain holding you back. Your now sweaty hands stretch to the sides of your dress, tightening it slightly.

Michael exhales slowly as he rises from his chair, walking around the desk to come toward you. His hands end up in the pockets of his black pants "I'm not lying to you, I'm protecting you" you bite your lower lip before murmuring "I just want the truth, Michael." the sound of the clock sounds like a gunshot in the silence.

He pauses, inhales again, and looks up at you once more. Those eyes, so dark, so calm... no tremor, no flash of emotion "The truth," he repeats "You want the truth." he takes a hand out of his pants and runs it over his face, as if to erase the anger building inside him.

His voice lowers to a tone that hides something more dangerous "The truth would destroy you, you really don't want it" you stop, but you've gone too far to turn back "you can't decide what I can handle!" your words come out louder than you intended, and you immediately regret it.

"Every time you ask me about my business," he says "you ask me to show you the part of me I try to keep away from you" driven by anger, you take a step forward, pointing your finger at him "I don't-!" the slap came from the side, suddenly... a sharp blow.

The noise cracked in the air like a whiplash, and you remain still... your cheek burning. It wasn't so much the pain that struck, but the humiliation. Tears blur your vision as you touch your cheek, in disbelief: you didn't think it could hurt this much, and not just physically.

"See what you're forcing me to do?!" he yells at you as he rubs his hands together to ease the pain of the blow "Every time you insist, every time you don't listen to me... you push me further." the words slip through you like poison.

Suddenly, the feeling of fear and humiliation seems to have disappeared... now you understand, the Michael you fell in love with is gone forever. Old memories come to mind, the beautiful summer days when he took you to the beach, by the sea.

"Good..." you whisper, wiping away the solitary tear that has fallen down your cheek "Do as you wish, Michael, but from now on, you and I are done" your voice sounds like a snake's hiss, bitter "I've waited so long for you to change, but apparently it hasn't happened. Stay with your stupid family; let them curse me for what I just said, I don't care."

You take a few steps back, toward the door "Find another woman, there will be plenty of them who want you." a half-smile of hatred escapes you "You ruined me, and I, who deluded myself into thinking we could have had a better future together. One day I'll leave when you least expect it, and that moment will come soon enough... and woe betide you if you come looking for me; I never want to see you again."

You've finally managed to say everything you've never been able to admit, not even to yourself; you feel at peace, so to speak. His face is expressionless, but you know he's still confused. There's a hint of concern in his eyes, as if your words came from someone else's mouth, not yours.

You've always been so kind and polite that he would never have considered retaliating. He doesn't say anything, probably knowing it's the best thing to do to avoid further escalating the situation. You turn away from him as your feet move quickly across the office parquet, ready to escape the hell that has confined and manipulated you for far too long.

© Xoshize 2026

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