#platonic!reader

How do you tell a kid their parents abandoned them? Jack had been stuck with that question for the better part of two days now. Your parents hadn’t been seen by anyone. It was as if they’d left earth's surface and never looked back. For all he and everyone else knew they could have moved to another country. At the very least they didn’t reside in Pittsburgh anymore, at least according to the police.

Jack had been watching you from the kitchen for the last hour. You’d settled onto the couch with a warm blanket around you. Your favorite plushie tucked under your arm as you slept soundlessly, except for the soft snores that left you ever so often since you were still sick. The cartoon in the background was still playing softly, the black end credits already on.

In the last two days you’d stayed with him he’d gotten your things from your parents house. Said home that had been empty for two days. Your parents' belongings had been gone when the cops had let him inside the house. Abandoned shirts they’d opted not to take with them hanging from the drawers. The apples in the kitchen had gone bad, he hadn’t particularly liked the smell from the kitchen. No doubt your parents hadn’t changed the trash for a week at least or something had been left out to get moldy for some days.

Your room had been the chaotic mess it had been the day you got sick. The paper sheets half colored on the floor instead of your desk, the pens you’d used spread all over the floor. He’d cringed when he accidentally stepped on a lego piece with his non prosthetic foot.

On your request he’d grabbed the plushie on the bed. It was well loved to say the least. The stuffing was all in one place and one of the eyes was barely hanging on by a thin thread. He’d also per your request grabbed a blanket that was in the living room. Jack couldn’t help the way his lips curled down in a frown as he saw the family photos either turned away or with the picture facing the surface it had once stood on. It was as if your parents in their haste to leave had turned the once happy pictures away to hide the guilt that seeped into the cracks of their hearts. To hide the shame and in Jack's opinion the horrible decision they’d made. He didn’t understand how they could abandon you. Despite you being sick a lot you were a good kid. They had raised you well despite their recent act of abandonment. So he didn’t actually understand why they’d dropped you off at the hospital and just left.

No matter what he thought of the situation he was stuck with you at the moment. Not that he minded all that much. You were one of his favourite patients. And despite knowing it wasn’t good to get involved with your patients in any way he couldn’t help it. You were living with him, he was taking care of you. It was hard to not see you as his kid. He’d thought about it. If he fostered you, adopted you. If you got sick again he could easily help you. He’d come to acknowledge that he wasn’t horrible as a dad.

Then again as soon as those thoughts came the doubt would slither itself into his mind. Whisper that you were better off with a stable family, two parents, maybe siblings. He couldn’t give you that, at least not as of now.

“Jack?” He blinked, a hum leaving him as he was cast out of his thoughts. Walking over to you, he sat down by the end of the couch. Your head poked out from the blanket burrito you’d entangled yourself in as he settled down. Watching as he placed your meds and a glass of water on the coffee table.

“When will mom and dad be back” Jack had to look away from you to hide the frown on his face. Not only because of your innocent question but because your voice sounded so weak. His hand automatically went to your forehead. If the fever didn’t break until tomorrow he’d bring you to the hospital again.

He didn’t answer at first. How could he? Jack didn’t know the answer to your question, no one did. He glanced back at you, the hopeful expression, and something cracked inside of him. While his wife had left involuntarily your parents had left purposely. It wasn’t a coincidence they left you at his hospital.

Jack couldn’t just outright tell you they abandoned you. Or maybe he could, but it felt wrong to do so. “I don’t know” he looked towards the tv, avoiding your gaze. “Maybe, maybe they aren’t”

Your hopeful expression fell. Face scrunching up in confusion, abandonment wasn’t something that existed in your world. Not until now. “Are they in a better place, like grandma?”

That might have very well been a stab to his heart.

“No, they-“ he paused trying to find the right words. “They couldn’t take care of you anymore, but maybe” Jack handed you the medicine giving you a look of ‘don’t argue with me’.

“Maybe you if you want, I could care for you” when had he decided that was a good idea? Like actually decided.

“Like forever?” Your brows knitted in confusion. Was he going to be your new dad? “Like-like my new dad?” A cough left you.

“If you want” he had not thought this through.

You blink. Still somewhat confused, Jack didn’t fault you for it, it was confusing to a kid who’d only known the love of their parents before this. “Okay” you swallowed the pill with a grimace, your throat still hurt. Downing the rest of the water you curled back into the corner of the couch. Closing your eyes. You liked Jack and didn’t mind staying with him.

Okay. Okay. He could do this right? He took care of patients every night, how hard could a child be? His wife had always wanted kids, but that had clearly not gone to plan. Looking down at you now. Arms curled around your plushie, half asleep. Yes he could do this. For his wife. She would have helped you, and Jack could only wish he made his wife proud. For you. If you felt safe with him, if you wanted to stay with him he’d make that happen.

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By morning the fever still hadn’t broke through even with the help of the meds. The trip back to the hospital was inevitable at that point. Especially since the fever kept rising.

Grabbing the keys to his house he glanced into the kitchen to see that the light was off before he turned to walk towards you who was sat on the bench by the door. “Alright, got your jacket?”

You don’t look at him. Instead your gaze stays on your feet that’s dangling back and forth as you sit on the small bench-like seating area he had by the entry way to be able to put on his shoes easier when he didn’t have his prosthetic on.

“No” He raised a brow at the sheepish tone that tinted your otherwise hoarse voice. At least your voice sounded better than yesterday where it’s barely been a whisper.

His head turned towards you disapprovingly. It had rained all night, the wind was still blowing outside in cold gusts. And you were still sick.

Jack glanced at your short sleeves then back outside where he could hear the patter of rain against the road. Along with the puddle by the side walk, a hole that had yet to be fixed by the city. Watching the rain he shook his head. Hell no, you were putting your jacket on if he had anything to say about it.

“Put it on” his voice was stern but still held that gentleness he always reserved for you. “don’t want you getting more sick now, do we?” He grabbed your jacket and handed it to you, he couldn’t help but to frown at how thin it was, he’d have to get you a new one.

Your hands curled around the fabric before you, with a pout, put one arm through the sleeve and then the other. It did make the shivers from the fever go away slightly, not that you’d admit that Jack was right. You might be sick, but you were still a stubborn kid.

Jacks zipped your jacket, an assessing gaze as his eyes flicked up and down on your form. Making sure you were comfortable and warm. “Anything else you want to bring?” He didn’t know how long you’d stay at the hospital, at the very least overnight, his two days of work were up and he’d have to work today, no one to cover his shift.

He watched you walk into the living room, coming back out with your plushie. Of course.

His hand went onto your shoulder and he steered you towards his car. Opening the door to the passenger seat for you he watched you climb inside. Maybe if you were to stay with him he’d have to get a different car that wasn’t so far off the ground. But he did love his ridiculous big truck.

A smile tugged at his lips as he rounded the car and got into the driver's seat, watching you place the plushie nearly in your lap before you put on your seatbelt. Putting on his own seatbelt he started the car.

The drive wasn’t too long. Since his wife died he’d moved closer to the hospital. He hadn’t been able to stay in the same house they’d once happily lived in. The house that was planned to fill with the laughter of children and the smell of home cooked meals. But maybe now at least he could get one of those things.

As the two of you made it inside the hospital he kept a tight, not too tight, grip on your shoulder. Steering you past everyone in the waiting room. Shielding you slightly from a man that was coughing. He did not need you catching anything else.

You give a shy wave to Lupe as the two of you stop in front of the protective glass, walking right past the line of sick people. But Jack didn’t care all that much. Lupe smiled back at you. By now you recognized her and most other doctors, maybe one of the positive things about having to go to the hospital a lot. She recognized you too, as most of the staff did.

“Hi hon, you still sick?” You nod slightly, pressing yourself slightly into Jack as you look back at the angry glares from the people you’d skipped ahead of. Jack’s response was to unconsciously move you in front of him, his back receiving the glares instead.

“Robby in yet?” He kept you in place as he spoke to Lupe, keeping you from wandering off.

Your eyes glanced around the room. It felt different now, being here without your parents. It was like an emptiness in your chest you wanted to scratch away but couldn’t. It was scary. Jack had said they weren’t coming back. Maybe he’d said. But maybe had always been a no. When your parents said you could maybe get ice cream you never got it. So your parents weren’t coming back, Jack just didn’t know how to tell it to you.

It was true that kids were more perceptive than adults thought.

Lupe opened the door for you and Jack as they finished talking. Giving you a sympathetic smile before she got right back to the many complaining people waiting to get seen.

Jack steered you deeper into the hospital until he stopped by the nurses station. On the way he’d crouched down slightly to pick you up as he’d noticed your steps faltering from lack of energy.

He greeted Dana with a hushed voice not wanting to talk straight into your ear. Remembering you telling him loud noises rang in your ears almost painfully. Which had brought him to think that maybe you had an ear infection, but then it could just be the fever and headache doing its miserable job.

Perhaps against the usual protocol he gently placed you on the desk. Arms going on either side of you, caging you in so he could keep his eyes on you. He doubted you’d wander away but it was for extra precautions he told himself. Not because he was extremely worried for you and wanted to keep you as close as possible.

His body was slightly leaning to the right so he could see Dana clearly behind you. “Got a room open?” Any other day he would have greeted her but he was here for far more important things.

“Langdon just finished with a patient in room 9, can add the kid to the board and page Robby for you” working at the hospital was good for one thing at least.

“You’re a life saver Dana”

“Don’t I know it, take care of the kid now” she gave Jack a gentle but stern look as if to tell him what she’d bring down on him if he didn’t treat you well. Not that she doubted him, she could see the care and worry he held for you. The paternal instincts that had formed over two days. Even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself yet. You were already his kid now, no matter what would happen.

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It didn’t take long for Robby to arrive to your room in the ER. Personal cases usually tended to take priority even if it wasn’t serious. Besides since you only ever let Jack or Robby treat you, it’d be better for everyone if he took your case as soon as possible without the hassle if anyone else tried to treat you.

“Go easy on him will you, the newly made dad is really worried in there”

Robby couldn’t help the shit eating grin as he shook his head at Dana. “I always go easy on him”

“Sure you do- Antoine stop arguing with your girlfriend and get back to wo-“ Robby closed the door softly behind him as he stepped into your room. He felt like he almost intruded onto a sacred place as his eyes glanced over the room. The lights were dimmed, no doubt you had a headache then. Jack had scooted the stiff hospital chair closer to the bed you laid on. Your hands fiddling with the soft fur of a worn out plushie. Robby didn’t dare say anything at first, not when Jack talked to you in hushed words. Whispers that could only be heard to those included in the bubble of two.

The room felt much calmer than the rest of the ER. Maybe that’s why Robby stayed by the door for a few seconds. Catching his own breath. No beeping, no yelling, no people walking in every direction stretching themselves thin. Just a sick kid, Jack and a dark room.

“Still a fever?” Jack hadn’t just mentioned you when talking to Robby the last two days. It was all he ever talked about. Your symptoms. A cute thing you’d said. The way he was planning to start the process of adopting you. You were all he’d talked about for two days straight. And in the room right now, Robby could see clear as day that Jack could as well have been your dad by blood with the way he looked at you.

It wasn’t all that odd to him or Dana that Jack had so quickly fit right into the pattern as your caregiver. Because the fact was it hadn't happened overnight. Jack had been your primary doctor for the last few years, he’d always been extra gentle with you, and now you were fully under his care. He’d been bound to this fate years ago, even if no one knew it back then.

Jack bites the inside of his lip in worry. “Still a fever, last time I checked it was 105.8” He shook his head slightly before looking at Robby who gently hooks you up to the monitors. “It just keeps going higher”

“What tests did you do last time?” Robby’s fingers grab his glasses, while his other hand uses his doctor badge to log into the computer and into your medical chart.

“Just the blood test, parents wanted to leave as soon as they could” he relaxes his hand when he feels you try to force his fingers into a fist. “Like I said three days ago when we talked I told them to come back in the morning before I left but they never did”

“Think we’ll redo them just to be safe, maybe add a UA… pee test” Robby clarified for you as he turned his body to face you more, seeing the confusion written in your scrunched up face. “Think you can do that?” He gives you a soft smile in return as he watches you nod. You’d done them before, but both Jack and Robby learned long ago to always ask if you were okay doing it, and telling you what it was if you didn’t know. “We could do some scans but Jack they’re always clean, doubt it’ll change this time around”

“Better safe than sorry” at Jack’s words, Robby added the tests into your chart before moving forward to take your blood. Then he proceeded with all the other tests. Luckily they all came back clean. Like every time they deemed it that you had a really bad case of a common flu or infection. Perhaps someone from your school had been sick and since your immune system never seemed to kick in that was probably the culprit.

After two days at the hospital the fever finally broke. It took two more days for Jack to feel okay with taking you home again. The fever was practically gone. Your sore throat and headache were practically nonexistent by now.

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled this much. You’d been with him for five more days after the hospital trip. The fifth night, today, had been the first night you slept through. You hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat from the sickness, no tears from wanting your parents. You’d stopped asking when they were coming back, Jack had stopped answering the question anyway. It was one of the factors as to why Jack realized some kids adapt faster than others. Even if he hadn’t outright told you, some part of you understood that they’d never come back and so you adapted. Or at least you tried to. You weren’t as discreet as you thought you were when watching the cartoons on tv. Whenever a family would appear, when they’d say I love you and hug. Jack always noticed the crease in your brow from sadness or the way the corners of your lips dipped down, the glistening eyes before you hid in your plushie.

It was all very sad.

But then you’d do something so innocent as asking politely for a midday snack and the sadness that tinged his lips tilted up into a smile. You were polite as he’d noticed, he couldn’t deny it. Though your patient manners could certainly improve for others that weren’t him or Robby.

A soft expression splayed on his face as he watched you munch on the snack he’d given you, eyes transfixed on the screen. A cartoon was playing, Jack had tried to understand it but it was all too bright colored and loud for him to actually be able to sit down and enjoy it with you. Then again it wasn’t exactly made for people his age was it?

His phone was laying on the counter right in front of him. He’d been watching you from the kitchen. Eyes traveling from the phone and back to you every so often. He was scared to call your social worker. Scared to ask what it’d take for him to adopt you.

The social workers had already approved the home visit, they had to when you’d stayed for over a week. He knew the actual process would take time but he was ready for it. You’d said you wanted to stay with him. He’d make that happen. For you. Besides he’d rather have you stay with him than some stranger that might just be there for the paycheck.

You’d nuzzled into the couch by now. Talking slightly to yourself about what happened on the screen. As if you could make the characters listen. If he was honest it reminded him slightly of him and Robby when they’d yell at the referee.

The buzzing sound of his phone vibrating against the hard counter was enough to bring his focus elsewhere. Your social worker.

Jack’s hand froze halfway towards the phone. Heart hammering. It felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped significantly. His head swarmed. This was it.

With the feeling of his heart running out of his chest his finger slid over the screen to answer. He closed his eyes for a second to collect his breath and thoughts before he brought the phone to his ear.

He was met with a hello which he answered back. The woman on the other side spoke in a short snippy tone and she sounded far too business-like to work with kids. Jack hadn’t particularly liked her when she stopped by a day or so ago to check if you were ready to be moved. You’d still been sick and Jack had been able to talk his way through “doctor opinions” to let you stay a bit longer while he worked up the nerve to actually adopt you.

“We’ve been trying to reach you Mr. Abbot”

“Jack please, and I was just about to call actually, I wanted to le-“

“We have found a placement for Y/N” Jack didn’t even realize he stopped breathing when the social worker cut him off with those words. “The couple” of course, a couple, stability Jack didn’t have. “can take Y/N tomorrow, it’s always easier to do it as soon as possible for the child” Jack didn’t utter a word. Tomorrow. You’d be leaving tomorrow. “Mr. Abbot? You still there?”

“Y-yeah” he forced the words out even though his heart just cracked into a million more pieces since his wife died. “Can’t Y/n stay with me?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Abbot but it is in Y/n’s best interest to go with this couple. They have other kids there, to play with, a big backyard with a swing set, they live close to one of the best schools, Y/n will thrive with them” them, not him, not Jack, like you wanted.

“But-“

“I’m sorry Jack but you can’t change it” at the very least she had the sense to sound sympathetic this time.

“Y/n wants to stay here, I’m a doctor that must acco-“

“It’s not about what the child wants but what’s good for them, and I’m sorry to say it but you work nights Jack, despite Y/n being sick a lot you can’t look after a sick kid while working nights, if you switched to days, perhaps, but this family is already expecting Y/n, I can’t just change it now, it wouldn’t be fair to them, I promise you they’ll take good care of Y/n” Jack forced himself to keep back the snappy comeback. He was certain they didn’t know what was good for you. Not when they didn’t even take into account what you wanted.

His eyes traveled back to you as he drowned out the social worker's words. He’d have to tell you today didn’t he. Had to get you ready for tomorrow to leave.

“So if yo-“

“Yeah I got it” Probably not his best reaction, certainly wouldn’t help to get you back by being unfriendly to the people who’d take you. But he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye, he just wanted to end the call and sit by you. For as long as he still had left with you.

So that’s what he did. He sat down beside you with a soft groan, he’d been standing for far too long. His eyes traveled to the cartoon. Listening to your soft breathing.

“Kid?” He chuckled quietly at the way your head practically snapped towards him. “I need to tell you something, it may upset you, and that’s okay”

“My parents aren’t coming back are they?” You said it so softly Jack almost didn’t hear it. Blinking down at you he was left speechless for a few seconds. He hadn’t realised you’d comprehended his earlier words as such. But of course you did. You were a kid, not stupid.

He licked his lips and let out a soft sigh. “That is true” he looked back down at you. You looked far too cozy under the fluffy blanket for the news. “but it’s not what I wanted to tell you” he watched your face scrunch up in confusion, he never realized just how animated kids were in their expression sometimes until now.

“Your social worker, you remember Mrs. Johnson right?” You nod. “She just called” he swallows to brace himself. “She’s found you a new home, a new place to live”

Eyes cast down, your brows crease further. A new home? Not with Jack? Buy he’d said… “but I wanted to live with you” tears gather, first your parents abandoned you, now Jack too. Deep down you knew Jack wasn’t abandoning you but it still felt like it. Even if it was out of Jack’s control at the moment. “I don’t want strangers”

“I know kiddo” he can’t stop the grimace from forming on his face. “You’ll still live in Pittsburgh, and we’ll still see each other every time you get sick, my hospital will still be the closest one to where you will live”

His breath catches as you fling yourself forward. Your arms wrapping around him tightly. Almost too tight, but he wasn’t about to tell you to stop.

Jack just hugged you right back, as if you’d disappear if he let you go. Because by tomorrow morning that’s exactly what would happen. And Jack was powerless to stop it. He’d been too late.

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Screaming was pointless- your throat was too bloody to do so. All your tears had dried up since you never cried in front of them. No, you wouldn’t give those monsters the satisfaction. 

A crimson pool had gathered beneath you, the scent of iron filling your nose along with the sterile scent of the lab. A few sounds echoed down the halls of voices. 

Darkness began to ebb at the edges of your vision, making everything seem both blurry and vivid at once. A claw curled around you, trying to tug you down into the abyss below, and tearing at your heart. There was a dark hole threatening to pull you in. Would dying be all that bad? 

Nope. Not today. Not ever. Death had followed you all your life, like a shadow you couldn’t quite shake off. Whoever had said death was like drifting off into a peaceful sleep was lying. No, this was a fight, a fight where you were holding onto life like a thread, refusing to let go. If death were here, it would not be easy. You would fight it. Fight as you always have. All you ever knew was fighting, as if it were next to breathing. 

Taking in a shaky breath, you reminded yourself that if you had done this once, you could do it again. 

From the moment you were born, the doctors had been left without answers for the strange blood condition you had fought. Not after everything you had been through would you die alone in an abandoned lab in a pool of your own blood. Never. The scientists had never liked you being a fighter when you refused to take orders and ignored demands. Now you clung to the small part of you who could imagine a chance at a new life, and held onto it even as your breaths became fewer and fewer. Gasping, you kept clinging as the claw seemed to press down on your throat, sinking into it. 

A small flicker of glowing light sparked at your fingertips before fading away and flooding the room back into darkness. They had always left you in the dark, and every day for the past few years had been nothing but endless dark, full of experiments, tests, and commands. Nothing but a weapon to mold, a thing to command and order around until it was discarded. The line between life and death relied on lab results, which you had walked carefully so you could find a life on the other side of these walls. Squeezing your eyes shut, you focused on that part of yourself. 

During those endless nights, you would come up with songs to fill the endless silence. Lullabies from long ago, or random ones thrown together to pass the time. It seemed silly, but it kept you from losing your sanity.

Anything to hold on to hope. Under your breath, you whispered a melody, one you had written as a child, years before this place.

“A sparrow sang a song, even in a cage. One day, it would fly to the sky beyond, and the world would be its stage. Every day it sings, because hope carries wings until it finds the key it carried all along and flew free, never to be trapped again.” 

One day, you would have wings and fly far away from this place. 

What if this were all just a nightmare, and you would wake up in a normal home with a normal life? An agonizing pain crawled up your spine, digging into your nerves like shards of glass, each pushing further in. Yup, this was a real nightmare brought to life. 

 If someone didn’t show up soon, you were done for. 

“No, I want to live,” you internally begged. “I just want to get out of here. Don’t take me. Don’t take me.”

Life could be cruel. After all, you never expected to go from being a girl trying to get by to a weapon left to die. Despite all its faults, you still wanted to live it. 

There was a spark that hadn’t quite died out yet, buried deep within. 

A noise tore you back into reality, followed by a few voices behind the door. Panic rose in you, flooding you with dread. What if the scientists had returned? There was no chance of living if they were. 

The door flung open, where a few figures stared from the shadows. Trying to focus your vision, you squinted and could only make out a few bright colors.  Footsteps got closer, each more measured than the last. 

One, two, three…

A few voices whispered nearby, sounding strangely familiar. How many were there? Whoever it was, they couldn’t be good news. 

“What do you want with me?” you whispered with all your remaining strength.  One emerged, stepping out of the shadows and towards you. A cold voice responded, “We’re here to help you.”

Help? Yes, help! At this point, you would take any sort of help if it meant survival. It was as if a star burst to life in a starless sky, bringing a tiny bit of light after an endless darkness. Finally, your body gave out from under you, sinking into the floor. 

 Your eyes widened at the recognition of the person before you as the figure got closer. Was it? No, it couldn’t be…the Dark Knight. 

One week earlier….

The cave seemed to be colder tonight as Bruce stared at the screen, trying to piece everything together. Tonight had gone unexpectedly, to say the least, but when was the unexpected ever new to him? 

Gotham always seemed to be stuck in a perpetual shadow, yet tonight the city was darker if it were possible. One minute, Bruce was in the middle of giving a speech at a gala for the Gotham Institution of the Arts, and the next, the entire museum went dark. Everyone assumed it was Riddler or some other Rogue breaking in, until the whole city turned to an endless sea of shadow- a blackout. Gotham is already chaotic enough when it’s functioning normally. Well, as normal as Gotham can be on the normal scale. Luckily, Oracle had managed to track down the source of the power surge and hack into the city’s main power center to fix the issue before any major damage could be done, so now the others were out fixing up any wreckage it may have caused. Crimes had already increased within the hours, and the GCPD had been flooded with calls of break-ins or worse across town. At least none of the rogues had escaped Arkham this time. 

Oracle’s symbol appeared on screen, “Power-grid is secure, and everything seems to be running smoothly again. Everything okay on your end?”

“Everything’s fine. Nightwing and Robin are making sure the east side of town is okay, and Red Robin is speaking with the commissioner,” Bruce responded, voice clipped with an edge of exhaustion.  “Do you know what the source of the blackout is yet?” 

“Always straight to the point,” She internally rolled her eyes, “At least that’s nothing new.” 

“As far as I can tell, there was a large power surge that overwhelmed the grid,” she explained, pulling up a picture of the recent energy levels. Bruce furrowed his eyebrows, trying to see if there were any other signs of abnormalities. It seemed as if everything had been running smoothly until now. Odd. 

 “Which would usually be due to some sort of faulty issue, but here’s the thing…it would take a large amount of power to shut down a city of this size. Nothing about this is normal. I’ll keep looking.” The screen went dark again. 

Just as he had expected. Nothing about this felt random, but what would someone gain from turning off the city’s power? 

A nagging feeling in the back of his head kept warning him this was a part of something bigger, putting a pit of dread in his gut. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with right before something bad was about to happen, as if the city itself were whispering a warning. Memories of the aftermath of that dread followed him around like a shadow, never quite too far away. 

Haunting. Unforgettable. Painful. 

Joker was still in Arkham. He had already checked the moment the power returned.

Who would benefit from that much power? Even worse, what could have that much power? Mr. Freeze could be using it to fuel a new project, or maybe Poison Ivy has been making some sort of environmental statement? Nothing had been stolen except for a few small robberies during the blackout, which wasn’t really unusual for Gotham. 

There were too many missing pieces right now, full of blank spaces, unable to be strung together. Without any information, trying to figure anything out for now was useless. 

“Just when I think Gotham can’t get any darker,” Dick’s voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back into reality.  He strolled in, taking a seat on the edge of the keypad. Bruce scowled a bit, but said nothing. A long time ago, he learned that telling him to stay off the Cave’s equipment was useless.  

“Where are the others?” he asked, turning to face him. 

Dick shrugged, “I think Tim is still speaking with the commissioner, and Damian decided to go to bed. Cassandra and Stephanie went off to do who knows what.” 

Leaning back, Bruce let out a tired sigh, “Do you want to stay here tonight? I can have Alfred prepare your old room.” 

Hesitation glimmered in Dick’s eyes, as if he were considering it. So much had changed since he was that little boy holding tightly to Alfred’s hand as he showed him to his new room, but sometimes he would give anything to go back to those days. 

“Nah, I have to get back to Bludhaven by morning, so I should really head out,” Dick responded, brushing off any of the earlier reluctance.  “Let me know as soon as Babs has the information about the source. See ya, B!”

The cave went quiet again. Bringing a family together was the easy part, but keeping them together was more difficult than it seemed. Although he had to admit most was his fault, with his ability to push those around him away so easily. 

Bruce sat there for a while when a familiar voice said, “Master Wayne, it’s far too late, and you’ve been up for hours. It’s time for you to get some sleep.” A few feet away, Alfred stood calmly stirring a cup of tea. 

“I’m fine, Alfred,” he answered gruffly. “If I can go over some of the recent activity recorded at the power company-”

Alfred cut him off, nearly scolding, “How many times must I remind you that sitting in a cave late into the night does not mean you are an actual bat? Now get some sleep.” Bruce shot him a look, in which the butler responded, more softly, “Things have gotten quieter here ever since most of them moved out, hasn’t it? Now it’s only Duke and Damian who reside in the manor. Suppose it’s easier to sleep now that things are quiet.” 

Easier? It had only gotten harder when Bruce had to constantly worry about where his kids were and what they were doing. Always worrying if he would lose another, only to not be there in time all over again. 

Quietly, Alfred added, “As stressful as it was, I did always adore having a fresh face around here. My age is catching up with me, but I think I could still handle it.”

Another? No, that was the last thing Bruce needed right now. Even if Jason often joked about his “adoption addiction,” he wasn’t sure if he could handle another member of the family. Another person who could be lost…

“Goodnight, Alfred,” he said without looking up from the screen. With a sign, the butler left without a word. 

A new message from Oracle flashed on the screen again, along with a sense of urgency in Barbara’s voice. “Hey, you may want to take a look at this. I think I found a lead and much more than we expected.”

Project X - Experiment 00217 - Successful

Tags @littlebirdygirlywriting @minishico @writer-in-wonder

@sppoookkiii @flashyspeedster @starrydustedwinter

bruce wayne

Bruce acts calm about adopting an alien child, but internally, he is absolutely spiralling.

He reads every alien biology file the Justice League has. He makes contingency plans, dietary charts, safe-room protocols, emotional support protocols, and probably a binder titled “Alien Child: Unknown Customs, Known Needs.”

You call him “Father Bruce” very formally at first. Then “Bat-Father.” Then “Dark Dad.”

Then, after watching him brood on a rooftop, “My beloved nocturnal tree of sadness.”

Bruce pretends not to like this.

He loves it.

You can sense his emotions, so his whole “I’m fine” act collapses immediately.

Bruce: “I’m fine.”

You, touching his sleeve: “You are experiencing grief, guilt, back pain, and the emotional flavour of wet stone.”

Bruce: “...”

You: “Also hunger.”

Alfred: “At last. Someone useful.”

Bruce is extremely protective of you because you’re new to Earth, but you’re also weirdly powerful, so half the time he’s protecting Gotham from your enthusiasm.

You once accidentally levitate during a charity gala because someone complimented your outfit, and your joy “became too large for gravity.”

Bruce calmly puts a hand on your shoulder and says, “Feet on the floor.”

You beam. “Yes, Father Bruce.”

The press loves you because you answer questions too honestly.

Reporter: “What’s Bruce Wayne like as a father?”

You: “He is very loving but pretends to be furniture.”

Bruce nearly chokes.

dick grayson

Dick immediately decides he is your emotional support human.

You adore him because his emotions are bright, warm, and acrobatic.

You call him “Brother of Flips.”

Dick: “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever called me.”

He teaches you slang. This is a mistake. You start saying things like, “That villain’s vibes are rancid,” and “Father Bruce, your coping mechanisms are not slay.”

Dick is so proud.

He also teaches you hugs, high-fives, fist bumps, and dramatic entrances.

You love hugs. You become terrifyingly good at them. Like, emotionally healing bear traps.

Dick notices you can sense when people are hiding sadness, so he gently teaches you boundaries.

“Sometimes people aren’t ready to be read,” he tells you.

You take this very seriously and start asking, “May I perceive you?”

Dick cries laughing the first time.

You become one of the only people who can get Dick to admit when he’s overwhelmed.

You simply sit beside him and say, “Your smile is doing too much work today.”

That gets him every time.

jason todd

Jason does not trust you at first.

Not because you’re an alien. Gotham has weirder things on Tuesdays. He doesn’t trust you because you’re too sweet, too open, and too good at seeing through him.

You touch his hand once by accident and freeze.

Jason immediately pulls away. “What?”

You stare at him with huge, sad eyes. “You are very angry. But underneath it is a small boy holding a crowbar-shaped shadow.”

The room goes silent.

Jason: “Don’t do that.”

You: “I am sorry. I did not mean to open your sorrow cabinet.”

He avoids you for three days.

Then you show up at his apartment with soup because you sensed he was “emotionally crunchy.”

He tells you to leave.

You ask if that is “a real leave” or “a wounded animal leave.”

Jason hates that you’re know the difference.

Eventually, he becomes one of your fiercest protectors.

He teaches you swear words and then gets offended when you use them incorrectly.

You: “This soup is bitchin’ with despair.”

Jason: “Close enough.”

You think Jason’s helmet is wonderful.

You call him “Red Bucket Warrior.”

Jason: “Do not call me that in public.”

You, immediately at a Justice League meeting: “Red Bucket Warrior has arrived!”

Clark loses it. Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. Jason considers exile.

Secretly, Jason loves that you’re never scared of him.

You once tell him, “Your anger is loud, but it does not make you monstrous. It is only pain wearing armour.”

Jason leaves the room.

Later, he brings you a book and says, “You might like this.”

That’s Jason for I love you, kid.

tim drake

You are fascinated by Tim. You think he is “small, fragile, and powered by forbidden bean water.”

Tim says he’s not fragile. Then he passes out standing up.

You scream because you think he has “entered death mode.”

Tim becomes your Earth Culture Tutor, which is deeply ironic because he’s barely functioning as an Earth citizen himself.

He explains memes to you. You misunderstand them constantly.

Tim: “So ‘no thoughts, head empty’ means—”

You: “Ah. Like when Father Bruce attends a social event.”

Tim: “Exactly.”

You and Tim become dangerous together because he has plans and you have zero impulse control.

Tim: “We need a distraction.”

You: “I will scream in seventeen languages.”

Tim: “That could work.”

Bruce, over comms: “No.”

You adore Tim’s detective brain. You call him “Brother of Many Tabs.”

Tim pretends to hate it, but he changes your contact name to Alien Gremlin and yours for him is Sleep-Deprived Oracle Bird.

You can sense when Tim is anxious before he says anything. You’ll quietly hand him a weighted blanket, coffee, or sit beside him without touching.

He appreciates that you learn not to pry.

One night, Tim asks, “What do I feel like?”

You think carefully and say, “Like a candle pretending to be a lighthouse.”

Tim is silent for a long time.

Then he says, “That’s actually devastating. Thanks.”

damian wayne

Damian declares you suspicious immediately. “You are not human.”

You gasp. “You noticed! You are very clever.”

Damian does not know what to do with sincere praise. It disarms him more effectively than any weapon.

At first, he sees you as an intruder.

You see him as “small blade brother.”

Damian: “I am not small.”

You: “You are emotionally small in a way that bites.”

Damian: “Tt.”

You adore his animals. Titus loves you instantly. Alfred the cat tolerates you (which is high praise). Bat-Cow accepts you as kin after you solemnly bow and call her “Honoured Milk Beast.”

Damian pretends not to like you, but he starts teaching you about Earth animals.

You take everything literally.

Damian: “This is a robin.”

You: “Like Brother Dick? Was he once bird-shaped?”

Damian: “Unfortunately, no.”

You are one of the few people who can make Damian laugh accidentally.

You once ask if murder is considered “bad manners” or “illegal seasoning.”

Damian laughs so hard he has to leave the room.

Eventually, Damian becomes quietly possessive of you as a sibling. If anyone insults your alien habits, Damian appears like a tiny storm cloud with a sword.

“They are adapting. You are merely stupid.”

You cry because that is the nicest thing Damian has ever said to you.

He panics. “Do not leak from your face. I defended you adequately.”

duke thomas

Duke is one of the easiest people for you to be around. His energy feels steady, bright, and grounded.

You call him “Sun Brother.”

Duke actually loves it.

He helps you adjust to Gotham because he knows what it’s like to enter the Batfamily later and feel like everyone else already knows the choreography.

He tells you, “You don’t have to become like them to belong here.”

That hits you hard.

You ask, “Even if I am strange?”

Duke smiles. “Especially then. This family runs on strange.”

You and Duke bond over light. Your alien biology reacts to certain kinds of sunlight or starlight, and Duke’s powers feel comforting to you.

Sometimes when you’re homesick, he sits with you at sunrise.

No big speech. Just warmth.

You tell him his light feels “like a door remembering it can open.”

Duke gets quiet. Then he says, “That’s beautiful.”

You grin. “I am very wise before breakfast.”

stephanie brown

Steph adopts you emotionally within five seconds.

She calls you “space bestie.” You call her “Purple Joy Warrior.”

She teaches you about waffles, glitter, sarcasm, prank wars, and reality TV.

This is catastrophic. You become addicted to makeover shows and start rating villains by “emotional renovation potential.”

Joker: “Why so serious?”

You: “Because your aura is mouldy and your outfit lacks narrative cohesion.”

Steph falls over laughing.

You and Steph prank the entire Manor. Nothing harmful. Mostly glitter, googly eyes, and changing Bruce’s ringtone to dramatic opera.

Bruce: “Who did this?”

You, glowing faintly with pride: “I participated in bonding crime.”

Steph: “Snitches get stitches, bestie.”

You: “I do not want stitches.”

Steph teaches you that sometimes “crime” means “family fun with plausible deniability.”

Bruce bans this lesson immediately.

It does not work.

cassandra cain

Cass understands you better than almost anyone.

You read emotions through touch. Cass reads bodies like poetry. The two of you can communicate without words almost immediately.

You sit together often, shoulder to shoulder, watching people move through the Manor.

You call Cass “Quiet Star.”

Cass smiles every time.

She likes that you do not expect her to speak. You like that she understands feelings without needing them explained.

The first time you touch her hand, you feel calm, discipline, grief, love, and a deep, deep loneliness.

You simply squeeze her fingers and say, “You are not empty. You are full of quiet light.”

Cass hugs you.

Everyone pretends not to cry.

You and Cass become terrifying in combat together. She moves like shadow; you float, dodge, and occasionally knock enemies over by accidentally blasting them with emotional energy.

You once shout, “Your hostile feelings are unpleasant!” before launching a goon into a dumpster.

Cass gives you a thumbs-up.

That’s basically a standing ovation from her.

clark kent

Clark is delighted by you.

He gives off such warm, golden energy that you immediately trust him.

You touch his hand once and gasp. “You are made of kindness and solar explosions.”

Clark blushes.

Bruce: “Don’t encourage him.”

Clark becomes your guide to being alien on Earth.

He understands the homesickness, the loneliness, the weirdness of learning human customs while everyone assumes you’re fine because you look mostly okay.

You ask him if he ever feels “too not-from-here.”

Clark gets very soft.

“All the time,” he says. “But Earth became home anyway.”

You think about that for days.

You also adore his cape.

You ask if it is a “formal blanket of heroism.”

Clark says yes. Bruce says no.

You believe Clark.

You and Clark sometimes float together above the Kent farm and look at the stars. He tells you about Krypton. You tell him about your planet.

Neither of you has to pretend not to miss what you lost.

Clark is also the one who gently explains that Bruce adopting strays is basically his love language.

You ask, “So he collects wounded beings and gives them bedrooms?”

Clark: “Pretty much.”

You: “That is beautiful and concerning.”

Clark: “That’s Bruce.”

extra

You struggle with Earth sometimes. The food is strange. The customs are stranger. Gotham is loud and wet and full of fear.

Some nights you sit on the roof of Wayne Manor staring at stars that do not form the constellations you know.

Bruce finds you there.

You tell him, “I am happy here. But I am also sad there is no here that contains everything I miss.”

Bruce sits beside you.

For once, he doesn’t try to fix it. He just says, “I know.”

You lean against him.

He lets you.

After a while, you whisper, “Your sadness is quieter tonight.”

Bruce says, “So is yours.”

That becomes your thing. Sitting together. Saying nothing. Letting the night hold both of you.

Because somehow, impossibly, the alien child with too much heart and the human father with too many ghosts learn how to be family.

Not perfectly. Not easily.