#platonic!reader

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.

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

You arrived in the apartment and immediately got greeted by silence.

Elena was probably asleep since she worked the afternoon shift, and Thea?

 You look towards the hallway. You couldn't see her shoes.. if she was home, they would be standing on the rack, right? She hated running around with shoes in the apartment, and so did Elena.

 Immediately, you're gripped by fear and an odd sense of deja vu. For a second, you're back in the Manor, your father breaking you the bad news… no, you firmly shake your head, focusing on putting off your shoes.

She was fine. 

But as you stalk through the silent apartment, your stomach drops. Maybe you should've picked her up from Arkham. You should have done that stupid detour. You shouldn't have let the accidental meeting with Tim mess with your head like that. Why, in your right mind, did you leave a newcomer alone in Gotham. Especially when she had to head through the most horrendous part of Gotham-

“Hey?” You had almost been hit in the face by the bathroom door as Thea headed out of it. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you see the familiar head of brown roots and washed out blonde hair.

“You look like you've seen a ghost.” She raises a brow with that silent worry. Of course, you could tell her the truth, that your past experiences in Gotham had you imagining her dead in a warehouse, shot in the head, poisoned, or shot through the spine.

But you settle for a half truth, and you don't even know why. As if your worries weren't that important. “I ran into my brother on the way here. I guess it rattled me up a bit.” Huh, perhaps you were pretty honest. 

Thea's brows knit together for a moment, creating the line you had seen so often in your time knowing her. She was worried. “Oh. I assume it wasn't a good reunion?” She asks. Of course she'd ask. You ask when you care.

“Eh. I guess. But.. I'd prefer to.. be alone with this.” You shrug before rubbing your neck awkwardly. “I'm just tired.” 

Thea raises her brow before she nods. “Understandable, it was a nightshift, after all.” She steps away from the doorway to the bathroom, closing the door. Now, in the hallway, she stands right in front of you. “Elena and I are here though, if you want to talk.”

She doesn't insist further. She doesn't push for answers you don't want to give her. And at the moment, that's what you appreciate more than anything else.

Deciding to switch the subject, you tilt your head. “Aren't you going to sleep?” You ask, mildly confused. If you were this tired after your night shift.. then she must be as well, right? But Thea just dismissively waves her hand. “I don't feel tired yet.” She answers before nodding towards the door. “And if I open the door, Elena will wake up and probably unleash hell on us.” 

You roll your eyes. “Its 7:00 a.m., a perfectly fine time to be awake if you work the late afternoon shift.” Thea chuckles. “As if you willingly get out of bed before 10 when you don't have to.” 

“Touché.” Before she can disappear into the living room though, you stop her. “Don't stay awake too long, though, promise?” She chuckles playfully.

“Sheesh, you sound like my mom.” You shrug. “At least you still have yours to remember.” You place your hand on your hip, a smirk playing around your lips. 

“Playing the dead mom card? Really? You seriously need to go to bed.” She takes hold of your arm before ushering you into your bedroom. “Goodnight [____].” She says before closing the door behind you.

You wake up two hours later to the smell of someone making breakfast. Elena must have woken up.

You sit up with a yawn stretching your arms over your head. Of course you could go back to bed but you were hungry. Way too hungry. So you get out of bed, put on your comfortable but still acceptable clothes and make your way to the kitchen hoping to avoid running into the wall due to chronic morning blurry eyeness that couldn't even be dealt with by glasses.

“Доброе.” Elena says over the sizzling of her pan. “Let me guess, you want some of my blini?” You lean over. “If you're offering, I won't say no.” Elena laughs. “Anything to skip cooking, huh?” 

Grabbing two plates from the kitchen cabinet, you chuckle amused. “I don't dislike it. I just don't see the reason in cooking when you're already doing it.”

That earns you an annoyed but nonetheless affectionate eyeroll. “How was work, by the way?” She asks, filling up your plate. And you sigh. “We had an emergency in the middle of the night. Though that's not unusual in a city like Gotham."

 Elena nods. “Yeah, I mean working in a hospital is always busy. But Gotham is… insane with its workload. You think today is over, and then someone else gets rolled in because another villain decided it'd be fun to blow something up."

 Both of you sit down at the kitchen table now, munching on your breakfast. “It's always been like that. One of the reasons I left this place.” You mutter. 

Elena nods. “If I grew up here and had the chance to leave, I'd do so as well.” There are a few minutes of comfortable silence. Until Elena looks up. “Have you visited your mother already?”

 The question makes you sputter. Your mom was dead, and Elena knew that, so why would she..

You freeze. Once in a passing, you mentioned that you missed being able to visit your mother's grave. You didn't think any of them would remember. “I haven't.” You mumble after a while. 

“You should go.” Elena plays around with her fork, eyes focused on her plate. “I mean… if you want.” She adds, and you can't help but let out a huff and smile.

“No, you're right. We've been here for a week, and I still haven't gotten around for it.” You lean back in your chair. You hadn't been there in five years, and while before you left, you had paid the graveyard gardener to take care of the grave. You weren't sure if it actually looked decent. You look at Elena and remember the bouquet she handed to Thea as a gift for completing the vocation training. The peonies, cherry blossom stems, Gardenia's, and green leaves made for a beautiful combination.

 “Could.. you help me pick out a bouquet?” You ask suddenly, and Elena nods. “Da, we can go right after breakfast. Do you know any good flower shops?”

 You ponder on it. Most small stores closed after a while. Sometimes, because of gangs, other times because they couldn't afford to fix destroyed buildings. Your father had often tried to help out, making donations in order to help with the destroyed buildings.. but it didn't change anything. “I knew one. Not sure if it still exists.”

 Elena shrugs. “Well, what does Thea always say? Asking costs nothing?” She throws her perfectly straight black hair over her shoulder. “We should check it out.” 

The flower shop is near the graveyard. It doesn't belong to it and is hidden behind a few street corners.

You had discovered it after your mother's death, still yearning for her warmth and unaware that Bruce Wayne was/ would become your father.

It had been a cold night, and you had taken a small amount of money, grabbed a coat, and sneaked out of the orphanage. Gotham that night wasn't scary, unlike all the other times.

Your feet moved without you thinking much about it. You just followed the path the wind seemed to drag you.

The big flower shop was already closed when you arrived and you remember that you felt horribly sad, because you wanted to bring your mother new flowers. In your sadness, you began to wander.

It was stupid to walk into alleyways, especially off the main road, but lady luck had favoured you that night. Instead of a band of goons, you found a flower shop. Small and filled with plants up to the roof.

As you entered, a bell rang, and you headed it eyes wide with wonder as you took in the many different colours. Some of these plants you had never seen before…

Today the shop doesn't look so different. But there is a new person waiting behind the counter. It's no longer the woman with the red hair. Instead, there is a guy who looks way too normal for the mystique that always surrounded that shop. 

“Do you plan on planting the flowers?” Elena’s voice makes you snap out of your train of thought. “Oh, yeah. I think so. She'd prefer long-lasting flowers.. if that makes sense.” You answer, and Elena nods, immediately skipping through the shop inspecting the flowers. You had already given her a list of your mother's favourite flowers. “What do you say about a combination of these two?” She asks, holding up to flowers.

You recognised one as your mother's favourite flower. The other not really, but the colours matched beautifully. “They grow together well and it attracts bees and butterflies, you know?”

Your gaze softens. “Oh… I think she'd like that.” Just as you take the two pots, your freeze eyes zeroing in on a small Robin statue. The tiny bird sits there, it's the same. The same on you bought for Jason back when.. the one you bought for..  your breathing picks up as you look at the tiny statue, the black ceramic glaze eyes glitter up at you almost tauntingly. 

“[____],..... [____]?” A hand waves in front of you and you dart your attention over to her and there is Elena, looking at you with a raised brow. “Do you want to pick up two more or not?” She asks with that tinge of annoyance when someone has asked things at least 10 times in a row. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” You shake your head once to clear it up. Elena’s gaze softens, there is still that subtle hardness in her green eyes. But she seems less annoyed. “You good?” You nod.

“Yeah.. just tired. Let's pay and go. Okay?” You grip onto your flower pots holding the flowers inside heading to the counter. The new guy looks almost bored as he takes your plants, not with the enthusiasm from the lady you were used to. “That will be 25 dollars.” He answers and you hand the amount to him though unwillingly. You missed the quips the other lady gave you, the tips. But there was no use crying about this.

Elena helps you carry the flowers around the corner to the big gate leading to Gotham's main graveyard.

The archway to the entrance looked big and spooky, even during day time. The words “Gotham Cemetery” hang over the entrance in big scary letters but this is the only place that is relatively safe. Some villains of course weren't above settling down here, but all in all.. no one wanted to be the one to ruin the cemetery.

“Thea would love this. Its so.. gothic.” Elena mumbles and you can't help but agree. “Yeah, she would.” As you walk along the rows of people you point towards a spot where a statue used to stand. “The penguin once faked his death. After it was discovered they removed the statue he had as his tombstone.”

Elena snorts. “Is that common in Gotham?” “There is a saying that no one stays dead in gotham.” You joke, no one said that. As far as you remembered. “Next thing your going to tell me is that you can pull a pet cemetery here.”

You chuckle. “Who knows. But hey, you finally read the book?” Elena looks to the side, trying to seem nonchalant. “It is not as bad as i thought.” yeah, she was just coping with her wounded pride because she kept insisting she wouldn't like it.

“We're.. here by the way.” You look towards the tombstone. The name of your mother stands there in beautiful writing and.. the grave is taken care of well. The wild flowers that have grown all over look well taken care off and the stone is clean. You turn to Elena. “There should be spade somewhere around the corner.” She nods, stepping to the side before pulling it out.

“Why the heck is this one of the big ones? I thought there'd be one the small ones, like the one's you find in boxes with gardening tools?” She asks, looking at the end.

“It used to be. I seems like people got paranoid.” You answer. “Guess.. we'll have to search for it. It can't be far.”

 “Or we ask the guy over there.” You follow Elena’s finger to a guy. The gardener from five years ago. The one you had offered such a big amount of money just for him to refuse something about that caring about the graves is his job.

You take a step towards the man, waving as he starts looking at you.“How can I help, Wayne?” He asks politely and your cringe as you hear that last name.

“[____] or [Last Name]. I haven't been a Wayne for the last five years.” The man nods slowly.

“No longer a Wayne, huh? Well, [Last Name], how can I help?” You push your hands into your pocket.

He hadn't changed, he was still the weird guy from back then. The one never involved with any of the gangs haunting the Gotham Cemetery, whether it was the cult of owls nor the black masks. He was the one guy that actually the cemetery gardener.

 “We.. want to plan some flowers.” You answer, nodding towards where Elena is standing. “We just can't find the tools.”

The man nods. “Sure, sure. You'll find them down the path, near the little fountain. You remember the little stone well, right?” You nod.

“Yeah, thank you sir.” You turn around, ready to head your merry way as you hear the man's voice again. “And [Last Name]? You can't run from unfinished business.” Before you can actually be confused he is gone. Just.. walked away without turning back

The grave was redecorated now. And you sat there in silence. Your hands are covered in dirt and grime from planting, careful not to damage any of the surrounding wildflowers. Though you took care of some invasive species. 

You were proud of the work.. though Elena had done most of it. She knew how to handle garden work. You carefully reach out to touch the gravestone as you kneel in front of it, tracing your finger along your mother's name.

“Sorry for staying away so long.” You murmur, before chuckling. “Or maybe not. It's not the gravestone that keeps the memory, but the people no?” Taking a deep breath you stand up.

“I'll be.. here more often. But you probably now what, if you've been keeping watch from wherever you are. Hope its a nice place though. You deserve it.”

Brushing the rest of dirt from your clothes you step to Elena who had been waiting at the side, looking everywhere but you. You chuckle slightly. Thea would've had some comforting words and a hug to offer. And Elena? She was good at giving you awkward pats on the shoulder.

"I.. uh.. lets get going.” She nods squeezing your shoulder, before letting go. But she doesn't step away. Just hovers. A steady, unsure presence.

“Yeah, lets get going.” You nod. Walking back you feel lighter and at the same time mich heavier then before. The cryptic message from the man, the robin, Tim… it was too much, especially over the span of two days. And in the back of your mind the memory that somewhere around here was Jason Todd's empty grave was hammering through your mind like the church bells at a gotham funeral…

“So, how much time do you have left?” You ask and Elena looks at her watch. “Ah, about 2 hours. We really need to get back.” You sigh in relief at that. Knowing you'd be safe back in your shared apartment. In the one place you could pretend gotham was far away despite living in it. 

“I'm starting to think this whole Gotham thing was a bad idea.” You say as you follow Elena out the archway. “I mean, I always thought I was fine with.. here. Seems like it am.. more affected by this place then I should be.” Elena sighs. “Don't..” she shakes her head.

“No one is ever completely okays after trauma. And it doesn't just go away.” She takes your hand. “We both now.. Thea is better at that. Emotions and shit.” Her eyes move towards the floor. “But I understand how you feel. I know what its like to be haunted.” You squeeze her hand once. “Haunted huh? I guess that's the right word for it.” And thats how you both settle into comfortable comfortable silence

Somewhere in gotham trouble is brewing. You have officially been recounted into the Batcave tracking system. Barbara's fingers dancing across the keyboard. “[____]’s working in Gotham Central hospital, same as her friend. Elena Ivanova. But thats all I know. I can't even access the files to Thea.”

Frustratred she rubs her eyes while holding up her glasses, before re-arranging them. “Whoever they befriended, the two are not keen on getting found out.” She points at something in the screen. “I need more time to hack into the Arkham data base to find out more about the other one.” She leans back in her chair. “You sure you don't want to tell.. you know Bruce?”

Tim crosses his arms. “After what happened last time? He's going to scare [____] away.” 

Barbara raises a brow. “Scare her away? I think they were the ones to pop off on us. They punched Dick in the face when he tried talking them out of leaving. We won't scare them, they wil scare us.”

Tim couldn't help but agree. Still he didn't want to let this opportunity go to waste. Because no matter how much he lied to himself, he missed his older sibling. Especially the way they were before they changed.

Before Gotham took the one good thing of them and stomped on it and threw it in the trash.

 Ugh, his list was getting way too long. But if he didn't do it, no one would. So more coffee it was.

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[NOTE: Yay, here is the update! Sorry that the Batfamily again doesn't have more screen time! They will get their moments, I promise! But for now enjoy reader being absolutely spooked by gotham.