#leviswriting-dcu

“Goodbye, Habibi,” Talia said, leaning down to hug Damian, who leaned into her touch. He’d hit a growth spurt recently, so she didn't have to lean down as far as she once would have. Bruce turned slightly away as Talia kissed Damian’s forehead, not wanting to intrude on their moment. Damian squirmed slightly, but didn’t try very hard to get out of her hold, most likely because he truly didn't mind it. “Be good for your father, okay?” 

Damian looked up at Talia. “I always am, Mother. You should be telling him to be good for me.” 

Talia straightened, eyes dancing with amusement. “Should I? Has he been acting up?” 

Damian nodded seriously. “Remember the history project I was telling you about? He will not let me make a replica of one of the Tameranean blaster guns. I even said I would take off the lethal settings!” 

“Preposterous,” Talia agreed, but she was smiling. 

“Damian,” Bruce began, knowing it was fruitless. When the two of them teamed up, he was no match. “I already told you. No using technology normal students wouldn’t have access to to create a weapon, that again, normal students shouldn’t have access to. Especially since you’ll be bringing it to school, and last I checked, your school has a very strict no-weapons policy.” 

“Bah,” Damian huffed, and it was Bruce’s turn to smile. “What is the point of making a replica of something to do with superheroes if I cannot even make anything interesting?” 

“There are lots of interesting things you can make, Damian,” Bruce pointed out. “You just don’t want to make anything for show only.” 

“Well, why would he?” Talia asked. “If he’s going to make a replica, it should be as close to the source material as possible.” 

“Stop,” Bruce groaned. “The both of you. Damian, go see if Alfred wants any help.” 

“Fine,” Damian agreed with a long-suffering sigh. “Goodbye, Mother.” 

“I will see you next weekend, Habibi,” Talia said, and Damian disappeared into the house, leaving just them. 

“You should really stop encouraging him,” Bruce admonished lightly. “Heavens know I already have trouble with Jason giving him ideas.” 

“But however else shall I entertain myself?” Talia asked innocently, widening her eyes. Bruce scrubs a hand down his face, even as his chest fills with warmth. 

“I’m sure you can find something.” 

Talia only laughs. “Have a good rest of your weekend, Beloved.” 

“You too, Talia,” Bruce replied. “And thank you for taking him to the art store. I’d been meaning to take him, but haven’t had the time.” 

“Consider it nothing.” Talia waved her hand through the air. “I’m only further establishing myself as the ‘better parent’, you know.” 

“Right, right,” Bruce said. They’re quiet for a moment, but it’s a comfortable sort of silence, one that doesn’t need to be filled. 

“It’s nice getting to do this,” Talia says, as if she’s divulging some great secret. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” Bruce doesn’t let himself think too hard about the words he’s saying. “I believe Damian is happy too.” 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him,” Talia said, looking past him to where Damian had scampered off to. 

“I know,” Bruce said. “I know.” 

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Dick gulps. Will Bruce get mad at him if he gets caught snooping? He hasn’t gotten mad at him yet but it could happen! What if Dick gets grounded, or worse, benched? 

Steeling his nerves, Dick reminds himself that Bruce said good detectives have to take risks sometimes. He can do this! 

Sticking close to the wall of the cave, Dick creeps to the left, trying to get a better look at his computer. He can’t believe B hasn’t noticed him yet; his skills must be really improving! 

His bare feet make the slightest noises on the stone floor, but Dick doesn’t think it’s loud enough to attract Bruce’s attention. He finally gets to a spot where he can see Bruce’s friend, and it’s not someone that he recognizes. She’s dark-skinned, and kind of looks like one of the performers in Pop Haly’s circus group who had been South Asian. Maybe she was from somewhere similar? 

Curiosity growing, Dick moves forward, crouching low to stay out of the web cam’s view. He turns hus attention to the conversation, and realizes with a start that they’re talking about him! 

“Yes, Dick is a very smart boy,” Bruce is saying, and a frisson of pride runs through him. If Bruce says it, it must be true! The lady says something in return, but he still can’t quite hear her, so he gets even closer, until he’s right behind B’s chair, able to peek up and around it at the lady. 

“I’d like to meet him sometime,” the lady says, and Dick waits eagerly for Bruce’s reply. When it doesn’t come, he does something really brave. 

“Hi!” Dick says, popping up from behind Bruce. “I’m Dick!”

Bruce startles so badly it makes Dick snort. So much for being aware of everything as Batman! 

“Dick,” Bruce says, a little panicked. “What are you doing up?” 

“I had a nightmare,” Dick says with a pout, almost having forgotten all about it. Bruce softens and Dick takes his chance to climb up into his lap so he can look directly into the camera. “What’s your name? Are you B’s friend?” He gasps. “Are you his girlfriend? Oooh, Bruce, I’m telling Alfred!” 

“Why, hello there, Dick,” the lady says, and Dick thinks she’s very pretty. He tells her as much and B makes a really weird, strangled sound. 

“Dick,” he groans, and Dick looks back at him innocently. 

“Hm?” 

“This is Talia,” Bruce says after a long moment. “She’s a very special friend of mine.” 

“Everyone knows ‘special friend’ just means girlfriend,” Dick says with a roll of his eyes. Even he knows that much because he overheard two of the older boys at school talking about it. 

“Ah, you caught me,” Bruce says, still making a weird face. Dick turns his attention back to Talia. 

“Hi, Ms. Talia!” He grins at the camera, and Talia smiles back. Dick decided he likes her. “Are you two in a secret relationship?” 

“One could say that,” Talia says gravely, and Dick wiggles in excitement. So cool! 

“So nobody knows?” 

“Very few people do,” Talia answers, and Dick looks back at Bruce. He’s so going to tell Alfred on him! 

“Talia, I should put him back to bed,” Bruce says after a few more minutes, and Dick pouts. He wanted to talk with Ms. Talia more! 

“Can we talk again?” Dick asks, and Bruce sighs. 

“Sure, but not right now, okay?” 

Pacified, Dick says his goodbyes to Ms. Talia, who also seems sad to see him go. When Bruce hangs up the call, Dick looks up at him with puppy-dog eyes. “‘M not sorry for eavesdropping because I was just being a good detective, okay? So I can’t get in trouble!” 

“Is that right?” B asks, and Dick nods vigorously. Bruce moves to stand, and Dick clings to him, forcing Bruce to hold him when he does. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” 

Bruce shifts Dick until he’s mostly on his hip. “Only if you don’t tell Alfred on me.” 

“It’s a deal!” Dick says, but his fingers are crossed behind his back. He’s totally going to tattle!

“Why, hello there,” someone purred in his ear, and Bruce whirled around. How had someone approached without him noticing? As he took in the person before him, that, at least, started to make a bit more sense. 

“Talia,” he said. Even with the ornate mask covering the top half of her face, no doubt real gold, he still recognized her. 

“Beloved,” Talia acknowledged. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” She swept her long, dark hair back, golden bracelets jingling slightly, barely audible above the music. “Shall we dance?” 

Though the question caught him slightly off-guard, Bruce accepted without hesitation, taking her callused hand in his. The waltz was simple, and they moved in tandem, the movements coming easily to the both of them. Bruce’s mind flashed back to the last time they had danced, in Talia’s quarters in Nanda Parbat, and he knew, without asking, that she was thinking of that night too. 

“Why are you here?” Bruce asked quietly, aware of the eyes on him, now them, that have multiplied tenfold. “You’re pretty far from home.” 

“For the same reason as you, I suspect, although unless you’re also focused on the blonde woman over there, I doubt we have the same person of interest.” 

Bruce followed her gaze but he already had a feeling he knew which woman she was referring to. And he was right, as she had indeed pointed out the lady leaning into his target. “No, but coincidentally I’ve been focused on the man currently with her.” 

“A coincidence indeed,” Talia murmured as her hand slid down his back. He shivered the slightest bit, something that undoubtedly didn’t escape her notice. “What did he do?” 

“Child trafficking,” Bruce replied, and her lips twisted in clear displeasure. “And her?” 

“Art smuggling.” 

“Not your usual type of target,” Bruce observed, and Talia shrugged fluidly. 

“When it’s items of great historical and cultural value that rightfully belong at home in my country I’m a little more inclined to pay attention.” 

Bruce had no response for that so he simply turned her with a little more vigor than he had been. The music was slowing, the song coming to an end, and Bruce knew that their time together was also coming to a close. There was nothing he could do about it, and it was for the best, and yet he still ached deep inside, remembering their time together when he had trained with the League. 

As if she could sense his thoughts, Talia reached up and stroked her knuckle down the side of his jaw. “Do not fret, Beloved,” she said lightly. “You’re much more handsome when you’re calm, though I doubt the shadows under your eyes will ever be fully banished. But you and I, we will see each other again soon.” 

She pressed a firm but chaste kiss to his stunned lips as the last notes hung in the air, then pulled away, disappearing into the throngs of masked attendees. Bruce watched where she had vanished for a moment, but he knew that he would not see her again that night. 

“The swords at your throat should be a proper incentive,” Talia said. “And the easier all of this is, the easier it will be for you in the coming days.” 

The spy scoffed. “And I should believe you because…?” 

It had been a long time since anyone had dared speak to her with such impudentness, and it was oddly refreshing. A shark-like smile spread across her lips. “Because you don’t have any choice but to,” she replied frankly. “You are in my throne room, surrounded by my guards, and since I’m the one who’s deciding what would be done with you, it’s best you consider your words carefully.” 

“Wayne,” the man said in response. “That is my name.” 

“Wayne,” repeated Talia, sitting back and crossing her legs. “A name I am unfamiliar with. And where are you from, Wayne?” 

The man - Wayne, Talia reminded herself - hesitated. Talia flicked her head slightly and the edge of the guards’ swords pressed a little more firmly into his neck. “Gotham,” he eventually said, and Talia’s eyebrows rose.

“Gotham? Well, aren’t you a long way from home?” 

Wayne said nothing. 

“What was your goal here, Wayne? What mission were you on?” 

“Any good spy wouldn’t reveal this information. Especially not without being tortured first.” 

Surprised, Talia laughed before she could stop herself. “If that’s something you want, well, I’m sure it could be arranged.” 

Wayne grinned, his teeth surprisingly white compared to the dirt and grime on his tanned face. “Oh, no, don’t go out of your way for me. But if you must know-” 

“And I think I must,” Talia interjected drily.

“-I was here to gain information about King Ra’s, so imagine my surprise when I found his daughter on the throne, with no record of what had happened to the previous king.” 

It had been nearly a half-year since Talia had overtaken him, taking her place as ruler. It was surprising that the news hadn’t traveled, although she supposed if he were making the journey from Gotham, he may have left before that had happened, especially since she was still pinning down exactly how long he’d been under her nose.

“Ah, my father.” Talia couldn’t stop her nose from wrinkling. “He’s been taken care of. So you were sent here to spy on him and he wasn’t here. Why stay?” 

Wayne looked at her as if she were dumb. “My mission was to learn about the ruler of this kingdom. While when it was first assigned, Ra’s was king, you being in power didn’t actually change the mission requirements.” 

“I see,” Talia said, then remained silent, thinking for a moment. It would be a waste to kill this man, but she couldn’t just let him go. He’d likely try to escape captivity, and it seemed as if his loyalty to Gotham was above no other. What should she do? “Wayne, how much are you being paid for your current mission?” 

Wayne was reluctant to answer, but when he did, she nodded, her decision made. 

“I’ll give you double that if you join my knights for one year. After that, if you so choose, you may go back to Gotham, no strings attached, all transgressions against the crown forgotten.” 

“What?” Wayne said, truly thrown off his game for the first time since he’d been brought in to meet her. 

“I can ever have a contract drawn up, if you’d like,” Talia said lightly, enjoying herself. 

“I would like,” Wayne flatly agreed. “I suppose the other option is death?” 

Talia shrugged fluidly. “The choice is up to you.” 

“But why would you do this?” Wayne asked. “Employ a spy working against you, inviting him into your most trusted ranks?” 

“You seem like a good man, Wayne,” Talia replied. “And it seems like a waste to kill you when you’d be so helpful otherwise. Do we have an agreement?” 

Wayne stared into her eyes, and Talia relished the challenge in his gaze. “Once the contract is drawn up and I deem all components fair, then yes.” 

“Lovely.” Talia smirked. “Bring him to one of the empty rooms in the North Wing. And you,” she said to a scribe by the door, “have a contract drawn up then bring it to me when completed.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they all said, and Talia watched as Wayne was forced away, liking to see him leave very much indeed. 

“I have an idea,” Stephanie says, climbing up on the dining room table, like a queen holding court. Duke, Cass, and Damian, her loyal subjects (the people in the room), barely spare her a glance before going back to their breakfasts. “Guys,” she groans, stealing a piece of toast off of Cass’ plate, “listen up.”

“Fine,” Damian acquiesces, somehow managing to look down his nose at her, even though he has to look up to see her. “What is this ‘idea’? Surely not another foolish scheme to get us in trouble with Father?” 

Stephanie scoffs. “When have I ever got us in trouble with Bruce?” 

Three pairs of eyes side-eye her. 

“Okay, whatever. But no, if everything goes right, it’ll get Tim, Jason, and Dick in trouble with him.” She sprays crumbs a little as she says this, and Duke wordlessly gives her a napkin, which she thanks him profusely for. “Remember that time we got blamed for stealing the Batmobile when it was them? I’ve been biding my time, coming up with a great revenge plan, and I think I finally have it.” 

“I’m in,” Cass says, no questions asked. This is why Stephanie loves her, and she says as much. 

“I had forgotten about that,” Damian says slowly. “We suffered under that grounding for entirely too long. I have bleach stains on my favorite shirt because of Alfred’s tyrannical rule.” 

“Oh yeah, you were forced to clean the bathrooms, weren’t you?” Stephanie asks, and Damian wrinkles his nose.

“It was terrible.” 

She shudders delicately, thankful she’d been given the animals. It had been gross, but not nearly that gross. 

"So, what’s your plan?” Duke asks, and Stephanie returns her attention to her plan, which she’d painstakingly come up with, making first and second drafts until her wastebasket had been filled with papers. 

“What’s one thing that Bruce hates?” she poses, and everyone thinks for a moment. 

“Evildoers?” Duke offers. 

“Superman,” Damian says decisively (and wrongly, Stephanie notes). 

“People messing with his stuff,” Cass says, and again, this is why Stephanie loves her!

“Exactly!” she says. “To Cass, not the rest of you. Bruce can’t stand when his carefully organized stuff is out of place. Remember when Tim accidentally filed that case in the wrong place?” 

Tim had been morose for weeks afterward. 

“That sucked,” Duke says, and Damian waves a hand. 

“Drake deserved it. Everyone knows they’re sorted alphabetically by last name, not first. It was a novice mistake.” 

“My fault,” Cass says suddenly, and they all turn to look back at her. She smiles devilishly, eyes glinting. “I borrowed the file. Put it back wrong. But no one knew, and Tim was the last person before me to have it.” 

“You’re evil,” Damian says, approval clear in his voice. “It is no less than Drake deserves. If he were any sort of true detective, he would have swept for fingerprints and checked the camera feeds.” 

“He did,” Cass replies, “but I am too skilled. The most skilled.” 

No one argues because they all know it’s true. 

“Anyway, back to my plan,” Stephanie says, calling all attention back to her. “Bruce keeps his Batsuit in his case, does he not? All we need to do is get down there, get into the case, spray paint the suit, and make it seem like it was Tim, Jay, and Dick.” 

“And how would we do that?” 

Stephanie smirks. “One: I’ve been collecting their fingerprints for months now, so it’ll be easy to transfer them to the case and suit. Not enough to be suspiciously obvious, but the edge of a palm here. The barest hint of a thumb there. Two: Jason threatened to do it about a year ago, something Bruce doubtlessly remembers, as he increased security on the case shortly after it was brought up. Jason has probably long forgotten about it but there’s no way Bruce has. Three: I bought the spray paint using one of Tim’s secret cards that he think’s Bruce doesn’t know about and had it delivered to one of Dick’s safehouses. He’ll never suspect it was us.” 

“And how do you know Bruce is aware of Tim’s card?” Damian asked, arms crossed. Stephanie detects the barest hint of respect in his voice and preens. 

“About a month ago, I ‘accidentally’ revealed it to Bruce,” Stephanie says, complete with air quotes and all. “Well, not that card, but a different one. I knew if Bruce suspected Tim had more he’d go digging them up, and I’m sure he’s found it by now.”

“The cameras,” Cass says, and Stephanie winks at her. 

“I already have that covered. Babs owes Duke here a favor and I was hoping-” she puts her hands together, blinking prettily at Duke “-that you'd be willing to use it for this.” 

“Gordon owes you?” Damian asks, perhaps in awe. “How in the world did that happen?” 

Stephanie and Duke share a look, remembering their promise to never reveal the exact events of that night. 

“Unimportant,” Duke says firmly. “But Steph, I don’t know if I should use my favor on this. What if I need it in the future for something more important?” 

Stephanie gasps. “More important? Duke Reginald Thomas, you take that right back!” 

“Not my middle name,” Duke interjects, but Stephanie is undeterred from her passionate and rousing speech. 

“Do you not remember how Dick would laugh as we worked out butts off? How Jason would go and make a mess of a room you’d just vacuumed? I think he bought sunflower seeds specifically to spill them! Do you guys not feel anger in your veins when you think about how Tim scolded us for doing something so reckless when it was his grubby little hands that were on the wheel of the Batmobile, not ours? How can you stand for this? We must get back at them, regain our dignity and honor! Who’s with me!” 

Cass claps politely and Stephanie does a few mock bows, still seated atop the table. 

“I suppose I’ll do it,” Duke says, but Stephanie can see the fire she’s lit inside of him, because she’s the coolest and absolutely the best for motivational speeches. Hey, maybe she should see if Bruce will start letting her do them before they go out on missions. That would be awesome. 

“I’m in,” Cass says again, and Damian nods. 

“I am in as well. They shall feel the burn of our wrath when they are the ones forced to wipe down the toilet seat!” 

Stephanie shudders again, and Cass makes a disgusted face. Their bathroom is nowhere near as nasty as the boys’ shared one is, something she’s incredibly grateful for. 

“Great!” Stephanie cheers, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go somewhere to flesh out the rest of these details where we can really plan! To your Titans base, Damian!” 

“What?” Damian squawks as Stephanie ungracefully climbs off of the table. “Why my base?” 

“Best place,” Cass says, and Stephanie beams. Damian, knowing he is beaten, merely sighs, gathering his plate with an air of long-suffering about him. 

*

A few days later finds them going over the plan one last time with Babs, crowding around her chair in the Clocktower. 

“You all know your jobs?” Stephanie asks, and receives four nods. 

“Yes,” Damian says. “I am to distract father, pretending Grayson put me up to the task.” 

“I’m making sure Jason, Dick, and Tim stay away from the cave,” Duke puts in. They had decided to do it on a night when they were home, maximizing risk, but minimizing the chances of any of them having an alibi. “Are you sure they’re not going to suspect me?” 

“Oh, Duke,” Stephanie says, “they’re not going to have a clue.” 

“Fingerprints,” Cass volunteers, “and helping with the case.” 

“I’ll scrub footage as you go and help with access to the case as well,” Babs says, and Stephanie gives in to the urge to rub her hands together like a low-rate villain. Or her father.

“It’s all coming together,” she croons. “And I’ll be painting the Batsuit. I’ve got a suit to wear but underneath it will be Jason’s hoodie, and if traces of paint are accidentally found on it… well, that would be terrible for him!” 

“Let’s do this,” Duke says, and they all nod. 

After driving back to the manor (Bruce would track if they zeta-ed), they all split up. Babs had lent them some of her comms, and after Stephanie has gathered the clothes and things she needs, all hidden underneath a blanket she holds as part of her ruse, she puts it in, sounding off. 

“Alright, everyone is in position,” Babs says, and Stephanie nods, even though no one except for Babs can see her. 

“It’s go time.” 

Passing Damian in the hall, they share a short look but otherwise disregarded one another, set on completing their parts. She stops in the kitchen for a snack, mentioning to Alfred her plan to hang out on the patio for a while, then goes back towards the direction of Bruce’s study, again passing Damian, who’s accompanied by Bruce. She scrubs a hand over Damian’s hair, taking care to make sure everything seems normal, but she’s not fully sure if the hiss he gives her is part of the act or not. Either way, it does the trick, allowing her to slip into the study once Bruce has rounded the corner. 

Cass is already in the Batcave when she gets down there, carefully placing fingerprints in the pre-determined locations. Stephanie makes quick work of getting dressed, shaking the neon orange and green paint bottles with vigor. By the time she makes it to the case, Babs and Cass have already worked their magic and it’s easy for her to spray it down, using her non-dominant hand just in case. In case of what, she’s not sure, but she feels like Bruce would be able to determine what hand was used or something like that, just because it's Bruce. 

“I’m done,” she whispers, to Cass and into her comm, hastily climbing out of the paint-speckled protection suit, taking care, to wipe the tiniest bit along the seam of Jason’s sleeve. “I’m going to put the hoodie in the laundry room then go to the patio. 

“Okay,” Duke says quietly, “I’ve still got all of them with me.

“I’m still with father,” Damian confirms. 

“And I’ll finish scrubbing data and footage,” Babs says, and Stephanie and Cass share a high-five. They’d pulled this off perfectly!

*

“I know you were behind this,” Tim mutters as Stephanie leans against the doorway, watching him apply new grout to the entryway tiles. 

“Consider it payback,” Stephanie says, smug. “Did you really think I’d let the Batmobile thing go?” 

Tim curses, low and long, and Stephanie gives him a little wave, skipping off into the house. Maybe she can find Dick or Jason and rub it in their faces too. 

“Stephanie,” Bruce calls as she passes his study, and she turns, popping her head in with a smile. 

“Yes, Bossman?” 

“Shut the door.” 

Stephanie refuses to be cowed as she shuts the door and drops into one of the seats, casual as can be. “What’s up?” 

“I know you’re behind the painting of my suit,” he says, and it takes everything in her to not pale. Before she can argue, though, he holds up a hand. “I’m not going to punish you. Rather, I called you in to congratulate you. You pulled it off almost perfectly, and I can see that you’re improving leaps and bounds in your skills.” 

“Almost perfectly?” Stephanie echoes, distraught. “No! I thought I had it all covered! What went wrong?” 

Bruce’s mouth twitches like he’s trying to hide a smile and he pulls out a piece of paper. Stephanie instantly recognizes it as one of her earlier drafts of her plan, done up in purple glitter pen. 

“I need to write my thoughts down,” she defends lamely, and Bruce slides her the paper. She crumples it in her pocket, inwardly chastising herself.

“Next time, destroy the evidence,” Bruce tells her. “Alfred found it when he was sorting trash from recycling.” 

“God dammit!” she says, quietly but with a lot of feeling. “If you know it was me, then why aren’t you punishing me?” 

“Stephanie,” Bruce says. “Do you really think I thought it was you who took out the Batmobile?” 

“You knew?” 

“Of course,” Bruce replies. “The boys were not nearly as careful as you were.” 

“If you knew, then why did we get in trouble? It took forever to wash the smell of barn out of my clothes,” Stephanie whines, remembering having to clean Batcow’s stall.

“I knew you’d retaliate,” Bruce says simply, “and I wanted to see how you’d do. Stephanie, you blew this out of the water. I daresay I’d have no clue of the real culprits had I not found the plan itself. The skill and tenacity you displayed during this, as well as your ability to manage and coordinate a team, are on a level with some of the members of the JLA. I am supremely impressed.” 

“Oh,” is all that she can manage. “Thanks.” 

“Of course,” Bruce says. “Now you’re free to go, and if you’re looking for Jason and Dick, well, I think Alfred put them to work out in the yard, spreading some of Batcow’s manure.”

When the engine cut, the silence seemed to echo. Bruce waited, arms crossed, and it took but a moment for the food to hiss open, revealing Talia. 

“Talia, what is this about?” Bruce asked, moving forward to meet her. Talia looked more tired than he remembered, and he hoped everything was going alright back at Nanda Parbat. 

“Bruce, you must promise to keep an open mind,” Talia said, and Bruce knew it was serious. Talia reserved his name for the worst situations. 

“What?” Bruce asked, confusion clear in his voice. “Talia, what is-” 

“Trust me.” Talia’s eyes were a bit wild and instinctively, he leaned back. 

“You know I do already,” Bruce said, a bit slowly. “Please, explain.” 

“It’s better if I show you.” Talia turns, back towards the vehicle, and calls for someone to come out. Bruce waits, unable to imagine who - or what - awaited him. 

Two figures descended the ramp, and Bruce froze. On the left was a small boy, clearly Talia’s, but Bruce recognizes himself in there as well, and on the right- 

“Jason?” Bruce gasps, staggering towards his son. “Impossible!” 

Jason rushed forward to him, throwing himself into Bruce’s arms. Bruce caught him, sinking to his knees. The other child stayed where he was, hesitation clear in his stance. After a long moment, Bruce pulled back from Jason, in order to look in his eyes. His eyes that were now a sickly green. 

“Talia,” Bruce repeated, voice wavering, “what did you do?” 

“Jason?” Talia prompted, and in his arms, Jason shuddered. 

“I crawled out of my grave,” Jason said, and Bruce’s mouth fell open. His words are toneless, but Bruce can tell when his boy is hurting. “And was picked up by the League. But my injuries and brain damage were so severe that Ra’s was going to get rid of me, so Talia put me in…” 

“The pit,” Bruce finished hallowly. “Oh my God. How did you come back to life?” 

“Nobody knows,” Talia answered, moving forward to put a hand on his shoulder. Bruce hugged Jason for a few more minutes, in absolute disbelief, before turning his attention to the other boy, hard as it was. 

“And you?” Bruce managed. “What’s your name.” 

“Damian al Ghul. I mean, Wayne.” The boy - Damian - said stiffly, and Bruce motioned him forward. He didn’t want to let got of Jason, instead shaking Damian’s hand over Jason’s shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, Father.” 

Father. He had seen the evidence of it, but to hear it come out of Damian’s mouth… it was surreal. 

“Talia,” he said. “Why bring them to me? Why now?” 

“Because,” Talia replied, something almost broken in her voice, “I just want my beloved to be happy.” 

There was obviously more to it than that, but for Bruce, it was enough for the time being.

Bruce watched as Jason stormed into the Batcave, throwing his helmet on the floor with a loud clatter.

“What the hell was that, Bruce?” he shouted, striding right up to where Bruce sat on one of the medical cots. “Huh? Why the fuck did you do that?”

Bruce stared up at Jason, who practically had smoke coming out of his ears. A little thrill always ran through him when Jason was in the cave, no matter if it was to yell at him or not.

“No response?” Jason prodded, hands on his hips. “Typical.”

Bruce blinked. “Jason, I understand that you’re angry-”

“Damn right I am,” Jason snorted.

“-but I did what I thought was tactically best at the time.”

“Bullshit,” snapped Jason. “You jumped in front of a hit I was prepared to take, intruding on my fight in my territory.”

There was no way for Bruce to explain how he’d acted without thinking, how the sight of one of the goons raising a crowbar had filled him with acrid, bitter fear, so he just remained silent. His shoulder hurt something awful, considering the hit had landed directly on a row of stitches he’d only gotten a few days before.

Jason’s gaze sharpened at the lack of response. “Did you get hit in the head, old man? Where’s the lecture, the grunting? Come on, Bruce.” He snapped his fingers a few times for good measure, somehow making the action mocking.

“Sorry, Jaylad,” Bruce said without thinking, watching Jason grimace at the old nickname. “I moved on instinct. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“You’re right, you shouldn't have,” Jason agreed. “And instincts? What the hell kind of excuse is that? After you’re up my ass all the time about thinking before doing literally anything in the world ?”

Bruce shrugged, before wincing, hand coming up to clap over the wound. Shit, that was a bad decision.

“Wait a fucking minute,” Jason said slowly. “Are you hurt?”

Bruce nodded. “Being hurt is usually the cause of blood, so I’d guess I am.”

“Now is not the time for your godawful humor,” Jason grit out. “And you’re bleeding? Just from a hit on your armor?”

“I was already injured there,” Bruce explained. “It opened up my stitches.”

“Jesus Christ, Bruce.” Jason abruptly turned away from him and to the medical cabinet. “This is what you fucking get for interfering, you know that? Get your fucking shirt off so I can see the wound.”

Bruce did as he was directed, awkwardly shimmying out of his undersuit’s top. The blood hadn’t really shown up on the dark fabric, but it made itself visible as he pulled the material away from his skin. Jason was by his side in an instant, applying pressure to the wound with a clean towel.

“What’d you even do to get a slice like this?” Jason asked, pushing harder.

“Lucky knife slash through the armor plates,” Bruce managed, voice a little strained. Jason looked up at his face, and Bruce stared back, wondering what he was looking for, what he saw in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason looked away eventually and they sat in silence for a little bit until Jason carefully moved the towel back to look at the state of his arm. “Okay, I think most of the bleeding has stopped,” he said, “and it looks like you popped all of your stitches somehow. Do I have to dig them out or was the degradable thread used?”

“Degradable,” Bruce answered, and Jason sighed in relief.

“Good, because that would have fucking sucked for the both of us.” Jason readied the needle and thread while Bruce held onto the towel, movements practiced and smooth.

“No painkillers,” Bruce said when Jason moved to grab them, and aside from the raising of his eyebrows, Jason didn’t say anything.

Jason began stitching him up with ease, hands steady. Of course he’s got steady hands , Bruce thought, a little hysterically, he shoots guns.  

Bruce watched Jason's face instead of the needle, drinking in every familiar feature, every new scar.

“You’re good at this,” he said, clearing his throat. Jason laughed humorlessly.

“I fucking should be. Had to do it to myself enough times.”

The idea of Jason alone in a safehouse or in the mountains somewhere stitching up his wounds made Bruce a little nauseous. He should have been there, or really, Jason shouldn’t have been.

“Thank you for stitching me up,” Bruce murmured, and Jason’s eyes flickered to his.

“Well, no one else is here to do it and this is your dominant arm, so.”

They both knew Bruce was basically ambidextrous at this point, but Bruce knew better than to call him out. Jason finished with an exhale, cutting the thread cleanly and wrapping a bandage around it. Bruce moved his arm around, thankful there wasn’t any weird tugging on any part of his skin. When he returned his attention back to Jason, he was washing his hands, plastic gloves already in the biohazard bin.

“I’m still pissed at you,” Jason warned, perhaps feeling Bruce’s eyes on him.

“As you should be,” Bruce agreed mildly. “I shouldn’t have jumped in front of the hit like that.”

Jason squinted at him, gaze heavy. “Who are you and what have you done with Bruce?” he asked, and Bruce rolled his eyes.

“Still me, Jaylad. I am capable of admitting when I’m wrong, you know.”

“Right, and Alfred has a full head of hair,” Jason shot back. Bruce did his best to hide his smile, but he knew it still peeked through a little bit.

“You staying?” he asked Jason, who stiffened. “You don’t have to. I just thought…”

“Shut up,” Jason barked, before continuing, quieter. “Fine. Just for tonight, got it? And I’m not staying for breakfast.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bruse said. Alfred would persuade him, he always did.

“Shut up,” Jason said again. “Now can you manage yourself from here or do I have to do anything else for your sorry ass while I’m at it?”

“I think I’ve got it,” Bruce replied. “Thanks again, chum.”

“Whatever.” Jason ducked his head. “I’m gonna shower.”

Bruce watched him go, chest swelling. Things with Jason weren’t great, obviously, but he lived for moments like these, moments where Jason grudgingly let him in, reluctantly opened up a little. The moments were few and far between, but Bruce cherished them all. It was tiring to fight with Jason all of the time, but god, he’d take it any day over not speaking to him.

“Stop staring at me, you creep,” Jason called without turning around. “Go change your clothes.”

“Fine, fine,” Bruce said, the smile he didn't bother to hide this time clear in his voice. “Love you, Jay.”

“Yeah, whatever, old man,” Jason returned, but his tone wasn’t outright hateful so Bruce would take it as a win.

When Bruce doesn’t reply, she turns to him. 

“I’m…” Bruce struggles for the words. “He almost died, Talia.” 

“I know,” Talia says. “You got to him in time through, and now he’ll heal.” 

“It was too close,” Bruce says hallowly. “If I had-” 

“There a million choices that could have been made to prevent this, but also a million more that could have made the situation much, much worse.” Talia pinned him with her heavy gaze. “You did all that you could, Bruce. And it was more than enough.” 

“I should have never allowed there to be a Robin,” Bruce says, shaking his head. It’s a mantra he repeats every time one of his kids is hurt. Every time.

“Oh, Bruce.” Talia pulls him into a hug, and Bruce is so surprised he lets her. He can’t remember the last time they hugged. Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul were a decidedly non-tactile couple when they’d been together, and after they split, there’d been no reason to hug. 

He can’t deny it's comforting. As he lets himself be soothed, Bruce keeps his eyes on Damian. Your son is alive, he tells himself, verging on viciously, and that’s more than enough. 

Talia says nothing, even though he knows she senses his inner turmoil, and for once, Bruce just lets himself fall apart, knowing she’s strong enough to catch all of the pieces.