beauty in the broken glass

It had been some time since Kori had visited; it had been during one of the strange Earthen holidays that her friends had said she needed to experience. Dick had invited the entirety of the Teen Titans to Wayne Manor for the Giving of Thanks Festival. Only three of their friends had declined: Wally and Roy had plans with their own families while Donna was away to Themyscira. The Manor had been just as beautiful back then, lightly decorated with a fall aesthetic. Bruce had greeted the group of teens while holding his youngest child; a toddler Y/N who looked at his big brother’s strange-looking friends with big, curious eyes. But the small boy was quick to warm up to everyone: giggling at Garfield’s funny faces and jokes, listening in rapt attention to Victor’s stories, having a pretend tea-party with Kori and Tara, and even begging Raven to read him a book. Kori could still remember the fond smile she had seen on Dick’s face when he saw his little brother getting along with his friends and then a stutter in her heartbeat when she watched Dick and Y/N’s goodbye ritual: forehead-to-forehead and rubbing their noses together. When she saw this soft side of Dick, Kori knew she truly had feelings for her best friend.

Dick walked around the car and wrapped an arm around Kori’s waist. She could tell that her love was tired in a way she could not help. The dark bags under his eyes and the heaviness on his shoulders were reminiscent of the time Deathstroke tormented the former Boy Wonder. She knew that the smile on Dick’s face was merely a mask; it was feeble and trembling, threatening to turn into a frown. Kori leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her love’s cheek; the reaction was instantaneous, his smile softened just a little, making it more natural. If it were not for the fact that Dick and Kori were here for a specific reason, she would have told her love to just get back into the car and they could leave. But she wanted to see Y/N, wanting to hear all about his adventures during the summer. 

Kori had read the letters that Alfred had forwarded to Titans Tower. Dick had read a couple but every time he did, it was clear that he felt guilty; he knew he should have been there for some of those moments. But Kori knew that the fights Dick kept having with his father-figure was causing fractures in that big heart of his, making her love dread coming home. She knew that Dick had been relieved that Y/N had not been home all summer and felt horrible for feeling that way.

“Come, my love, let us see your little brother. I am sure he will be glad to see you,” Dick’s smile softened a little more as he pressed a kiss to Kori’s forehead. He let go of her waist to take her hand as they walked forward. As they climbed the stoop stairs, one of the Manor’s large front doors opened to reveal Alfred.

“Master Dick, it’s good to see you are well. And Princess Koriand’r, it is an honor to have you grace our humble home with your presence once more,” Kori giggled as she pulled the butler into a warm hug. Alfred chuckled in good humor, giving the alien princess a squeeze of the arms. Kori let go so Dick could greet his grandfather-figure. Alfred soon stepped out of the way of the door to let the couple inside and then was quick to take at least Kori’s light jacket to reveal the purple summer dress Dick got her as one of his gifts for the anniversary of her Earth arrival.

“Have you been well, Alfred?” Kori quickly took off her shoes to place them at the nearby shoe rack as Dick did the same and Alfred was putting away the princess’s coat.

“I have. It had actually been a quiet summer with the Young Master away at their camp. Apart from Doctor Isley taking up residence at the local farmers market for a tense two days last month,” It had actually been a funny sight to see Poison Ivy standing in the middle of Bristol’s highly acclaimed Lilian Market, hosted by the Hartwell family farm; it was only a few years old and named in honor of one of the family’s grandchildren who had unfortunately passed during a Rogue attack. It had been clear that the villain was there looking for a simple reason to wreck mayhem, probably something about the local rich families using their wealth to inflate prices of their products, but Esme Hartwell, the matriarch of the family, came strolling out of her farm stall. The former doctor had been clearly confused by a woman her grandmother’s age in dirt-covered blue jeans and an oversized straw hat walking right up to the villain without a trace of fear on her aged face. Esme had then given Pamela a guided tour of the Hartwell farmland, showing off how her family had been handling their farm for generations, barely changing how things were done and how well they treated their produce and livestock. The former doctor was later seen the next day working alongside Esme at the farm stall, dressed in some of the farmer’s daughters’ clothes. When Oracle finally sent Batman towards the farmers market, the villain went willingly, but Pamela had actually gotten misty-eyed when Esme promised to come visit her at the asylum with some fresh jam and homemade baked goods for the villain and her friends; Alfred was fairly sure that Esme had just made her farmers market into a neutral zone for heroes, villains and those in between, considering he saw some of Harvey Dent’s men as well a disguised Edward Nygma browsing the wares and actually paying for their goods. 

“Babs told me about that. Is it true that Ivy was actually helping at the market?” Dick looked amused, but he honestly did not mind Pamela. She wasn’t big on hurting kids so the most she would do when Robin was out on the field was tangle the Boy Wonder up in a bunch of vines while focusing on Batman. Even when Dick changed to Nightwing, it was clear that the former doctor was torn between having to fight him or just reverting back to her usual Robin tactics.

“Master Dick, if I had not witnessed it myself, I would not have believed it either,” Alfred closed the coat closet door and started to lead the couple toward the solarium where he knew Y/N was taking his afternoon tea. The butler pretended to not notice Dick glancing towards Bruce’s rooms. Kori took the younger man’s hand once more, giving it a squeeze, before she turned back to Alfred.

“May I ask how the Titans have been doing?” Alfred watched Dick’s gaze lingering on the door to Bruce’s study before he turned back to the butler to answer the older man’s question.

“They’re doing well. Virgil and Jaime stepped up to help Kaldur lead while Brion and Artemis took up the tactician role since…” Dick trailed off, unable to speak Jason’s name out loud. The teen had not taken up the leader role like the former Robin had done, instead choosing to help with tactics and fighting techniques, which was one of Jason’s strong suits.

“What about Y/N? How is he handling…” Kori stopped, glancing over at Dick; it appeared to Alfred that the younger man had cautioned his girlfriend about saying Jason’s name aloud at the Manor. The butler did not like that the name of a boy they had all loved had become taboo. Only one person was allowed to say it and it was merely because Y/N said his nickname for Jason instead. Alfred paused, the solarium’s glass panel doors were opened just a little a few feet away from the group.

“...The young master still sometimes waits at the front door. He asked me when he returned from his camp if…if he had come home yet…” Alfred took a moment to calm his emotions, feeling the wave of sadness once more. He had been caught off guard by Y/N’s question but he had handled it with his usual tact. All the butler could say was ‘not yet’, which the boy had accepted before returning to his meal; Alfred was not ashamed of the tears he let himself weep later that evening. Dick took a quick breath as if he had been punched in the gut while Kori rubbed his arm in comfort.

“...Alfred, I hate to say this but we can’t keep this lie going…It’s only going to break Y/N’s heart even worse once he realizes…” Alfred glanced back at the glass panel doors.

“I know, Master Dick. It breaks my own heart when I have to lie to the Young Master, but I cannot say the words I need to say out loud. I cannot bring myself to be the one who breaks his heart,” Alfred looked back at Dick and the younger man could see that the butler was torn with his emotions.

“So what do we do?” Dick had only been a little older than Y/N when he lost his parents, but he had sort of understood the concept of death by that age. A contourist and one of the strongmen for Haly’s Circus had passed away when Dick was 6 and his parents sat him down and explained why his Zia Ylenia and Ujak Kazimir were not coming back to the circus; Kazimir’s heart finally gave out and Ylenia just never got over the heartbreak of losing the love of her life. He had been mostly devastated by the fact that death was permanent, but comforted by his parents’ faith in that death was merely another form of life; that maybe somewhere out in the universe that Ylenia and Kazimir were together once more. He felt the same about his own parents’ death after he finally accepted Bruce’s help; he hoped that his parents were still together, maybe watching him grow and find family and even love of his own.

“Given Gotham’s track record for doctors and psychiatrists, I have reached out to a contact in Metropolis to help me find a trusted child therapist. She is doing research at the moment and will get back to me shortly. She and I believe that we should wait for the new school year to start before we introduce therapy to the Young Master’s schedule,” Lois Lane had been surprised when Alfred had called but after hearing what was happening with Y/N, she agreed to help. The reporter was after all the reason why the Justice League now had a few trusted therapists added to their medical department; she had seen Clark struggle with losing civilians and Kara still dealing with the fact that she witnessed her entire planet be destroyed and put her foot down. If only Alfred had enough fire in himself to force Bruce into therapy as well, but he had found out just the other day that his access to the BatCave entrance had been revoked with his entry code no longer working.

“That…that’s a good idea…” Dick looked thoughtful, and Alfred could see where the younger man’s thoughts were going.

“If we find a reputable child psychiatrist, I will make sure their name is sent your way. I’m sure your friends and their proteges would appreciate it,” Dick let a soft smile spread across his face.

“Thanks Alfred,” The butler reached forward and gave Dick’s shoulder a squeeze.

“No matter how old you’ve gotten or how far away you move, it is still within my duty to provide you help, even if you do not ask for it. You know how much I’ve disliked how Master Bruce has been treating you lately and I understand the need to be away from him. But you are still family, Master Dick, always,” Alfred could see a shine start to appear in the younger man’s eyes and gave his shoulder another squeeze. Kori hugged Dick’s arm to her chest. The two gave the former Boy Wonder a few moments to collect himself.

“Now, let us join Young Master Y/N in the solarium. I find every moment with him brightens the day just a little more,” Dick wiped at his eyes and sniffed.

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds great,”

XX

Y/N was seated at the same table where his life had changed only a few months ago when he heard voices coming down the hallway. One of the sketchbooks Alfred had placed in his tower was open in front of the child with a couple of bottles of different colored ink. Nearby was a tea tray with Y/N’s favorite mug sitting next to a half-full teapot and a small arrangement of sweets Alfred had set out for afternoon tea. It had only been a few days since the boy had returned from her camp. He had spent these past couple days either catching up with the Manor’s ghosts or trying to readjust to his civilian life that did not have as much activity that camp life had. Alfred had promised a visit to one of Gotham’s skateparks in a day or two after they went shopping for school supplies; the butler needed to see for himself that Y/N could handle himself on a skateboard before he thought about getting the boy one of his own.

Y/N capped his fountain pen, putting it away in the pen case Alfred had gotten him with one of his favorite cartoon characters embroidered on it as he heard voices get closer to the tea room. He quickly closed the ink bottles as well, remembering the small lecture Alfred had given him about the proper care of his new art supplies. Y/N looked over his hands taking in the sight of the ink stains adorning his skin -dark red with gold flakes, brilliant blue and electric green-, but he knew he would not have the time to properly wash his hands before the guests arrived. For a moment, the boy wondered who was visiting, but then the familiar sound of Dick’s voice made Y/N’s head snap over to the doorway.

“Dickie!” Y/N closed his sketchbook before he scrambled out of his seat and raced over to the doorway. Dick kneeled down as he crossed into the solarium and held out his arms. It took a lot of his training to make sure the two brothers did not fall backwards as Y/N slammed into his big brother with a hug. Dick squeezed the boy for a long moment, before picking Y/N up as he stood; neither brother wanted to let go of the hug just yet.

“Oof, Little Wing, what did they feed you at that camp of yours? I swear you’ve gotten a little heavier than the last time I saw you,” Y/N leaned back a little in Dick’s arms, his ink-stained hands clutching onto the collar of his brother’s jacket. The vigilante could practically see stars in his eyes.

“S’mores! They’re so good. Have you had one before?” Dick could not help but laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve had some. Can’t believe you haven’t had one this whole time. I’ve failed at being a big brother,” Y/N patted Dick’s cheek as if to reassure the man.

“That’s okay, Dickie. Alfred probably wouldn’t let you give me one anyway,” Dick chuckled, knowing that Y/N was right and the butler definitely would not have let the younger man give his brother a s’more; way too much sugar and barely anyone could keep up with a hyperactive Y/N so it was best that his sugar rushes were handled by that camp of his. A bell-like laugh sounded behind Dick, making Y/N lean over to look behind his big brother.

“Miss Kori!” Dick turned a little so they could see Kori and Alfred looking at the brothers fondly. Y/N began to wiggle in his brother’s arms, holding out his hands towards the alien princess. Kori let out another laugh before stepping forward to take Y/N away from Dick.

“Little One, it is so good to see you. It has been far too long. You have grown so much,” Dick smiled fondly at two of the people he loved most in the world. Y/N looked up at Kori’s emerald eyes with adoration.

“You did too, Miss Kori. Your hair is longer and fluffier!” Kori could not help the giggle at Y/N’s words; she liked those terms for her hairstyle and would definitely be using them herself.

“Now, come, Little One, you must tell me all about this camp of yours,” Y/N nodded eagerly, but then thought about something. He turned his head toward Alfred, who was picking up the tea tray to go refill the teapot.

“Wait, Alfred, the pictures! We gotta show Dickie and Miss Kori!” Y/N wiggled excitedly in Kori’s arms which tightened just a little so she would not accidentally lose her grip on the wiggling, smaller boy.

“What photos?” Alfred’s tone sounded confused but Y/N could see the twinkle in the butler’s eye that told the boy the man absolutely knew what he meant; he was merely teasing. Alfred tapped a gloved finger to his chin as he pretended to think.

“Alfred! The ones Poppy gave you,”

“Ah yes, those photos. Let me put the kettle on and collect the album I have been making,”

XX

Kori settled into the chair with Y/N seated upon her lap while Dick took the seat right next to them. The man grabbed one of the cookies on the plate that Alfred had left behind and munched on it as he took in the art supplies on the table. He furrowed his brow slightly at the ink bottles and then glanced back at Y/N’s hands that were stained.

“Did you pick up another hobby while you were away?” Y/N looked over at his big brother. He started to nod, but then remembered what Lou Ellen had told the smaller boy to say if he was asked about his supplies.

“Lou Ellen and Ramzi said calligraphy could help with getting the words to stop moving. I haven’t started on words yet, just getting used to the way the pen works. Alfred got me a bunch of pretty colors,” Dick had never heard of that method being used to help with dyslexia, but Alfred had said that the camp Y/N went to was specialized in helping kids with ADHD and other learning disabilities.

“That’s good. I hope it does help,” Y/N grinned at Dick before looking back to Kori to tell her all about Lullaby; though he referred to the Pegasus as a regular horse as per Alfred’s careful instructions. The butler reappeared with a new teapot on his tray and a photo album under his arm. Alfred set the album down in front of Dick before going about pouring everyone a new cup of tea.

“I’m still in the process of transcripting the captions the other campers had made, but I have most of the photos placed,” Dick looked at the album that had a clear title stating ‘Summer One’ in Alfred’s delicate script. He opened it to the first two photos: Y/N in what looked to be a before and after. In one photo he was wearing a too-large bright orange shirt that had a Pegasus on it, the shirt was basically a dress on the boy and Y/N was holding up the excess fabric with a confused look. The next photo was Y/N in the same orange shirt but this time it was the proper size; the boy was smiling while his hair was a mess with a hand still resting on the top of the boy’s head. The caption read ‘There was a mix up at the camp store. They sent the largest size shirt instead of the smallest. Connor snuck in and stole the right size - Julia’.

“So who’s Connor and Julia? They’re the ones who wrote some of your letters, right?” Y/N nodded at Dick’s question as he set the tea cup back down.

“They were my cabin counsels. They were in charge,” Y/N most likely meant counselors, but Dick gave his brother a smile as he turned the next page. They slowly went through the available photos while Y/N described what was going on and Kori and Dick asked questions. But then the former Boy Wonder froze as he stared at one photo. There was a tall black-haired boy kneeling in front of Y/N with paint in his hands; the boy was very carefully painting a neon green domino mask onto Y/N’s face with some streaks of yellow and dots of red along the mask. Dick felt like his heart had frozen over, because for a moment, he did not see a stranger, instead he thought he could see Jason being the one to paint Robin’s domino mask onto Y/N. The vigilante could hear his little brother saying something next to him, but he was not registering the words.

“My love?” Kori placed a warm hand on Dick’s forearm, making him jolt and the whole table looked at him with concern. The man blinked rapidly in an attempt to dislodge the false memory and then took a deep breath before looking toward his girlfriend and his little brother. He forced a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“I’m fine…I’m fine…” It was clear that Dick was trying to reassure himself instead of his loved ones. But his eyes drifted back to the photo; he still could not shake away the fake image of Jason. The boy in the photo had a scar down his face and across his nose that was almost too familiar; Dick had seen what the Joker had done while he was torturing Robin, the jagged ‘J’ had been cut across Jason’s face and forced them to have a closed-casket funeral since no one could handle staring at that mark. Dick could feel tears welling up in his eyes so he stood up from his chair.

“Sorry…I need a moment,”

XX

Kori watched Dick leave the solarium as she glanced back at the photo that had clearly rattled him. Under the photo was another caption in Alfred’s handwriting: ‘Sherman couldn’t say no to Y/N’s little face. I’m going to weaponize this - Connor’. The alien princess wondered what exactly about the photo had sent Dick into a near panic attack, but then she herself could see a similarity to Jason Todd in the teen in the photo; the main difference was that this ‘Sherman’ was a little lighter in color than Jason and it was clear he had brown eyes. Y/N looked up at Kori with worried eyes, one of his small hands reaching up to gently touch the alien princess’s cheek.

“Is Dickie okay? Is he sad?” Kori’s heart clenched at the question. She brought up one of her hands to cover Y/N’s.

“He will be alright, Little One. He simply needs a moment to feel his feelings,” Y/N nodded, not entirely understanding but accepting the explanation. The boy took his hand away from Kori’s face and leaned against her chest in an attempt for some comfort. The alien princess wrapped Y/N in a gentle hug.

“Maybe when Jay comes back, everyone can feel better again,” Kori could feel her heart breaking at Y/N’s words. She did not know what to say to the younger boy so she simply gave him another squeeze. Alfred was sat across from Kori and she could see that what Y/N had said had devastated the older man.

XX

Dick had not meant to walk to Bruce’s study. His feet had simply carried him there while his mind was still trapped in the false memory of Jason painting a Robin mask onto Y/N’s face. The study was empty with stacks of paperwork and even a tray of covered food left abandoned on the desk. Dick walked over to the grandfather clock, shivering at the usual cold spot in front of it. He pulled the secret lever that revealed the keypad and typed in his access code. The wall behind the grandfather clock pushed away, revealing the elevator door for the BatCave.

Dick could barely recognize the man looking back at him in the reflection of metal doors. His tanned skin was pale with dark bags under his eyes. There were a couple of stress pimples peeking out that he knew that Kori was eventually going to force a facemask on him to take care of it. His hair is shaggy and overgrown, covering his eyes and neck, but he could not for the life of him bring himself to ask Alfred or even Gar or Victor to trim it for him. These were just the consequences of his own guilt so he forced himself to bear with them. Dick had known he had been an asshole to Jason while the younger boy was Robin. He had known that all Jason wanted was for them to be like brothers, to be close, but Dick just needed to find who he wanted to be on his own. So he pushed away everyone, even Kori and Y/N, and by the time he felt like he was finally comfortable in his name and skin again, it was too late. Jason was taken by the Joker, Bruce became a man consumed by vengeance, and Y/N was just a reminder that Dick had failed as an older brother. 

After what felt like hours, but was only mere minutes, the elevator doors opened to reveal the extensive BatCave. The dinosaur animatonic was the first thing to greet Dick before the symphony of bat screeches above him started up. The former Boy Wonder could see that the BatMobile was still here so he made his way over to the BatComputer console. It was there that Dick found Bruce; he had his suit on but his cowl was still off. 

Bruce’s head was bowed over the keyboard, his fingers flying across the keys with a speed that spoke of desperation rather than efficiency. The glow of multiple monitors cast harsh shadows across the man’s face, illuminating the gaunt hollows of his cheeks and the tension in his jaw. On one of the screens, Dick could make out several different maps layered over each other as if they were trying to find the same variable. Another held a list of people with many of the names already crossed out.

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice was flat, devoid of the warmth that used to fill it when Dick was just a boy learning to be Robin. He did not turn from the screen, his eyes fixed on the report he had been typing.

“Bruce,” Dick’s voice was equally flat, a mirror of the man who raised him. The two vigilantes stood in silence for a long moment, the only sounds being the distant dripping of water and bat screeches.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Bruce still did not turn around. He instead closed the report he was typing to open up a new file filled with photos of various hide-outs. His father’s words start to fan the flames of anger in Dick’s chest. The guilt that he felt earlier helped fester that anger into something uglier.

“Really? That’s all you have to say to me? I come home after months away, and you won’t even look at me before you send me away?” Dick stepped closer, his hands clenching at his sides.

“I’m busy,”

“Busy,” Dick laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Busy doing what? Chasing another lead that goes nowhere? Running yourself into the ground while the rest of us are left to pick up the pieces?” Bruce finally turned, and Dick felt his breath catch. His father’s face was gaunt, his eyes sunken and ringed with dark circles, and stubble on his chin was almost a beard. 

“What do you want, Dick?”

“I want you to stop this. I want you to come upstairs and have dinner with your family. I want you to spend time with Y/N before he forgets what you look like,” Dick’s voice cracked slightly.

“Bruce, he still thinks Jason is coming back. He waits for him at the front door. He keeps asking Alfred when his brother is going to come home,” Something flickered in Bruce’s eyes -pain, grief, guilt- before it was quickly smothered by the mask he wore when the cowl came on.

“That’s not my problem,” Dick felt something in his chest snap.

“Not your problem? Y/N is your son! How can you say that? How can you hear that he doesn’t understand what’s going on and think it’s not your problem?!” Dick’s voice rose.

“Because I can’t fix it!” Bruce slammed his hand against the console, making one of the nearby screens flicker.

“I can’t bring him back! I can’t make this better! The only thing I can do is make sure the monster who did this pays for what he took from us!”

“And what about Y/N?! What about what the Joker took from him?!” Dick was shouting now, his composure finally shattering.

“Jason was his life! He was the one who walked him to his first day of kindergarten. He was the one who read to him every night. He was his everything while he was his! Y/N is seven, Bruce. Seven! And he doesn’t even know that his life will never be the same again,” The words hung in the cavernous space of the BatCave, echoing off the stone walls. Bruce’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, but he said nothing. He just stood there, still as a statue, and his blue eyes glittering with something that might have been pain or might have been anger.

“You want to know what the worst part is?” Dick’s voice dropped to something quieter, but more dangerous.

“I was just upstairs, looking at photos from Y/N’s summer. He was so happy, Bruce. He was laughing, making friends, learning new things. And I realized that I haven’t seen him that happy in almost a year. Not since Jason was still here. Then, he comes home and he has nothing. No brothers, no father, none of the warmth that filled this house since he was left on our doorstep. And what hurts the most is that he knows. Y/N knows that something is wrong, but no one has the guts to tell him. We’re nothing but a bunch of cowards,” The silence that followed Dick’s words were deafening. Bruce’s face had gone completely still, but his eyes were raging. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, dangerous growl; the same voice he would use as Batman.

“How dare you,”

“How dare I what, Bruce? Tell you the truth? How dare I remind you that you have a son upstairs who still believes in you? That’s the real tragedy here. Not that Jason died, but that you’re letting his death destroy the family he loved,” Bruce moved so fast Dick barely had time to register it. One moment he was standing several feet away, the next he had Dick by the collar of his jacket, slamming him against the cold stone wall of the Cave. Dick’s head cracked against the rock and he saw stars for a moment.

“You don’t get to lecture me about family,” Bruce’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was filled with a venom Dick had never heard from the man before.

“You left. You walked out. You could not stand to be in the same house as me, so you ran off to Blüdhaven and pretended that was enough. And you want to talk to me about abandonment?” Dick shoved back, breaking out of Bruce’s grip with a speed that surprised them both. He rubbed the back of his head where a lump was already forming, but his eyes never left Bruce’s.

“Because you pushed me away! You pushed everyone away! That’s what you do when things get hard, isn’t it? You isolate yourself, you bury yourself in the work, and you refuse to let anyone in. I learned it from the best,” Dick knew his words weren’t hitting Bruce as well as the younger man wanted. So when he caught sight of Jason’s Robin uniform encased in a glass display box, he knew what he wanted to say next.

“I left because you made me feel like I wasn’t enough. You took Robin away from me. So I tried to become someone you’d be proud of. Jason left because he struggled to be the perfect little soldier you wanted him to be. We will never be good enough for you!” Bruce’s fist connected with Dick’s jaw before either of them could think. Dick stumbled back, more stunned than hurt. The former Boy Wonder pressed a hand where his father-figure just hit. Bruce looked stunned at himself, but he did not apologize.

“Get out,” Bruce’s voice was a low, trembling thing, barely controlled. Dick could feel the warmth of blood trickling from his split lip and he knew he and Bruce both had gone too far. But he could not leave, not without saying one more thing.

“Fine. I’ll go. But you should know,” Dick wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving Bruce’s.

“You’re not just losing me. You’re losing Y/N too. And one day, when you finally come back for air, he may not be there waiting for you. He may stop believing in you and who you think you are when you wear the cowl,” Dick turned and walked toward the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. He paused at the entrance, not looking back at Bruce.

“I hope the Joker is worth it, Bruce. You’re not the man who raised me, I don’t think I even know you anymore,” The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off whatever Bruce might have said in response.

XX

Bruce stared at the closed elevator doors for a long moment, before he looked down at his own hands. On the BatComputer, Oracle’s icon popped up before her voice came over the comm piece in the hero’s ear.

“B? I’m sending you a location on a lead now. It’s an abandoned fun-house on Amusement Mile. A few sources say Joker’s been spotted nearby,” Bruce reached for the comm to answer.

“Copy. I’m on my way out,” Bruce pulled on his cowl, the familiar weight settling over his head like a shroud. As he walked over to the BatMobile, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny surface of the vehicle. For a moment, Bruce did not recognize the man staring back at him.

“He still thinks Jason is coming back. He waits for him at the front door. He keeps asking Alfred when his brother is going to come home,” Bruce closed his eyes and tried to not let that image of his youngest child haunt him. Y/N will understand when he’s older why Bruce did this, why he went to such great lengths to hunt down the monster that took Jason away from them. Dick was wrong, Bruce tried to make himself believe, but he did not think he could lie to himself either.

XX

Kori was waiting for Dick in the foyer when the grandfather clock closed its secret door behind him. The look on her face told the man she had known he had argued with Bruce again. She did not say anything, just walked forward and wrapped her arms around him. Dick tucked his face against her neck as he wrapped his own arms around his girlfriend, taking the amber-vanilla scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her golden skin. He did everything he could to not focus on the overwhelming wave of sadness threatening to consume him. Kori said nothing about the fact that her shoulder was getting wet.

“I love you,” Dick hugged Kori tighter at her whisper.

“I love you too,” The couple held onto each other for another moment longer, before Dick finally pulled away. He rubbed at his eyes, before he looked at his girlfriend guiltily. 

“I can’t stay here. I can’t be in this house,” Kori placed a gentle hand on Dick’s bruised cheek, her emerald eyes searching his face.

“What about Y/N?” Dick’s heart clenched. He shook his head.

“I can’t say goodbye to him. If I see his face, I’ll stay. But I can’t stay. I can’t be here anymore, Kori,” The alien princess studied her love for a long moment, and then nodded.

“I understand. Go to the car. I will say goodbye to Y/N and Alfred. I will explain that we have an emergency with the Titans. I will be quick,” Dick wanted to argue, wanted to tell Kori that he really should be the one to say goodbye, but he couldn’t. If the vigilante went back into the solarium, if he saw Y/N’s trusting little face staring at him with love in those beautiful eyes, Dick would break. So he nodded, pressed a kiss to Kori’s cheek, and walked out the front door. The alien princess watched him go, her heart heavy. Then she turned, squared her shoulders, and walked back down the hallway leading to the solarium.

Y/N was sitting at the table again, his sketchbook open in front of him and his ink-stained fingers carefully drawing a symbol that looked like a spiral. Alfred was nearby, clearing away the tea things, but Kori could see the worry etched into the old butler’s face.

“Little One,” Kori’s voice was soft as she kneeled beside the child. Y/N looked up, his big eyes searching the princess’s face. The boy tilted his head at the older girl as if he could see Kori’s conflicted emotions.

“Where’s Dickie?” Kori reached forward, and caressed Y/N’s cheek, smiling softly as he leaned into her touch.

“Your brother and I need to go. There is an emergency with our team. He asked me to tell you that he loves you very much, and that he will call you soon,” Kori hated the lie, but it was a mercy compared to the truth. Y/N’s face fell for a moment, then brightened again.

“Like a superhero emergency?” Y/N’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Are you going to save someone? Is Miss Raven going to use her magic? Is Mister Gar gonna turn into a tiger again?” Kori could not help but smile at the girl’s excitement.

“I am sure there will be many heroic deeds tonight. Now, I promise you that I will make sure your brother calls you sometime soon. But if you do need him, Alfred does know the numbers for Dick, myself and the Tower,” Both Kori and Y/N glanced over at the butler, who gave them a nod. The boy looked back at the alien princess.

“Miss Kori?”

“Yes, Little One?”

“Could you give Dickie a hug for me?” Kori felt her heart melt at Y/N’s words.

“Of course I will,” Y/N leaned forward to wrap his arms around Kori’s neck, who immediately wrapped her own arms around the young boy. And then Kori felt it.

It was subtle, barely there; a faint hum beneath the surface of the boy’s skin, like a distant melody playing just out of reach. Kori’s breath caught in her throat. She had felt something similar only once before, in the presence of her dearest friend. Raven’s soul had always sung with a dark, ancient harmony; a byproduct of the demonic power that flowed through her veins. But this was different with Y/N; it was softer, younger, more tentative, like a song that was still searching for its notes, still learning what it wanted to become.

But it was magic. Undeniably, unmistakably magic. Kori had spent enough time on Earth to recognize the signs. She had fought alongside sorcerers and mystics, and had witnessed the way magic coiled beneath the skin of those who wielded it. Y/N’s song was barely a whisper, fragile as thread, but it was there; a melody woven into the very fabric of Y/N’s soul, waiting to be sung. The alien princess held the young boy for a moment longer than she had intended, her arms tightening almost imperceptibly. She could feel the faint thrum of potential beneath her fingertips, a power that was only just beginning to stir. Whatever Y/N was becoming, whatever magic was awakening within him, it would change everything. It would change him.

Kori did not know what it meant. She did not know if it was a blessing or a curse, if it was something to be nurtured or feared. But she knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that Y/N was no ordinary child; he never had been. The loneliness that clung to him, the way he saw things others could not, the strange summer camp, the ink-stained fingers, the quiet intensity in his gaze; it all made a terrible, beautiful kind of sense.

Y/N Wayne was magic. And one day that magic would reshape his family in ways none of them could predict. Kori pulled back slowly, her emerald eyes searching Y/N’s face. The boy looked up at her with innocent curiosity, utterly unaware of what he carried within him. Kori’s heart ached with a fierce, protective love.

“Little One,” Kori’s voice was softer now, almost reverent. Y/N tilted his head, waiting.

“Yes, Miss Kori?” Kori opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say? I felt the magic sleeping inside you? I know you are more than you appear? I am afraid for you and I am afraid for everyone who loves you? None of it would help. None of it would make sense to a boy who was still discovering who he was. Instead, Kori leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, letting her lips linger for just a moment longer than usual. She could still feel the faint hum of power against her skin, a warmth that had nothing to do with body heat.

“You are loved, Y/N Wayne. Never forget that,”

XX

The car ride back to Blüdhaven was silent. Dick stared out the window at the passing Gotham skyline, his jaw clenched. Kori drove, her gaze occasionally flickering to her love’s face, but she said nothing. She knew better than to press when he was like this. The sun had fully set by the time they crossed the bridge into Blüdhaven. Dick finally spoke up when they stopped at a red light, his voice hoarse.

“He hit me, Kori,” The princess’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She had seen the bruise starting to form on his jaw, had felt the tension radiating from him, but hearing him say it out loud made something cold settle in her chest.

“I know, my love,”

“He’s never…he’s never done that before. Not to me. Not to anyone he considered family,” Dick’s voice cracked a little.

“I don’t know who that man was down there. That wasn’t Bruce,” Kori reached over and took his hand, her thumb tracing soothing circles across his trembling knuckles.

“Grief can transform even the kindest souls into strangers. But that does not excuse what he did. You did not deserve that,” The light turned green, but Kori did not move. She turned to face Dick fully, her emerald eyes glowing softly in the dim light of the car.

“You are not responsible for his choices, my love. You cannot save someone who does not wish to be saved,” Dick laughed bitterly.

“Then what am I supposed to do? Just give up on him? Despite what he did, he’s still my dad,” Kori squeezed Dick’s hand.

“I know. But you are allowed to protect yourself. Give him space. Eventually he will see the light, but if he can’t, you have to protect Y/N. Because right now, you are the only one who can,” The words hung in the air between them. Dick’s stoic expression started to crumble, and his eyes began to shine with tears. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Kori’s, and let out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know how to do this alone,”

“You are not alone, Richard Grayson. You have me. You have our friends. And you have Y/N, who loves you like you personally hung the moon for him. We will find a way through this. Together,” They sat there for a long moment, forehead to forehead, breathing in sync. Finally, Dick pulled back, his eyes red-rimmed but his expression steadier.

“Let’s go home,” Kori smiled softly and put the car back into drive.

XX

Y/N stood at the large windows by the front door, watching his brother’s car disappear down the long drive. He pressed his small hand against the glass, feeling the cool surface beneath his ink-stained fingers.

“Miss Kori said Dickie would call,” Y/N’s voice was just above a whisper. He could feel Alfred’s presence behind him, steady and warm as always.

“I have no doubt she will make sure of it, Young Master,” Alfred’s voice was gentle, the same tone he used when Y/N was sad and he did not want to push. Y/N finally turned away from the window, his expression thoughtful.

“Dickie was sad. Really sad. Even when he was smiling, his eyes were sad,” Y/N looked down at his hands.

“Do you think if I got really good at magic, I could make him feel better?” Alfred’s expression flickered with a mixture of something complicated: love, worry, and a deep, abiding sadness.

“Master Dick’s sadness is not something that can be fixed with magic, my dear. It is something he must work through on his own. But you being here, being you, does help. More than you know,” Y/N nodded slowly, accepting the answer even if he did not fully understand it.

“Now, I believe I am in need of some assistance with making dinner. Let us test your knowledge of the herbs that you learned over the summer, shall we?”

XX

Gotham Academy loomed before Y/N like a gothic cathedral made of dark stone and stained glass windows. The building was beautiful in a cold, imposing sort of way, its tall windows reflecting the gray sky above. Students milled about the front courtyard, catching up on others’ summers or bemoaning the fact that school is starting again. Y/N stepped out of the Bristol charter bus and immediately tried to blend into the crowd. He spotted his friend, Jenny Hickory, near the front steps, surrounded by a small group of other children. The red-haired girl waved enthusiastically when she saw the youngest Wayne, and Y/N waved back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Y/N! Over here!” The son of Hecate made his way through the crowd, weaving between older students with practiced ease. Jenny threw her arms around Y/N in a tight hug.

“I missed you over the summer! Did you have fun at your camp?” Y/N nodded, his smile growing.

“It was so fun. I learned how to ride a skateboard and make–”

“Hey, Jenny! Miss Noonan is already calling for our class!” One of the other girls tugged on Jenny’s sleeve, pulling her away. The red-haired girl gave Y/N an apologetic look.

“I’ll see you at lunch. We can sit together,” Y/N nodded, watching as Jenny was swept away by the crowd. For a moment, the son of Hecate stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by children who did not seem to notice him at all. It was strange, this invisibility. It was as if the other students were looking right through him. Y/N wondered if this was how the ghosts back at the Manor felt when someone living walked right through them.

XX

The second grade classroom at Gotham Academy was bright and welcoming, with posters of the solar system, a reading corner with colorful cushions, and a large world map taking up an entire wall that even had superhero logos next to the cities those heroes operated out of. Y/N stood in the doorway, his new backpack -one that Alfred had purchased during their school supplies trip with patches of an owl and a skateboard properly stitched on and straps for a skateboard attached- felt heavy against the boy’s back. 

Miss Luisa Guzmán was exactly as the note from Miss Dahl had described: warm, patient, and genuinely excited to meet her new students. She had dark curly hair pulled back in a low bun, kind brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She wore a bright yellow cardigan that reminded Y/N of sunflowers over a light blue dress. When she spotted Y/N hovering in the doorway, she immediately crouched down to the boy’s level.

“Y/N Wayne! I’ve heard so much about you,” Miss Guzmán’s voice was soft and melodic.

“Miss Dahl told me about your special interest in Greek myths. I think you’re going to have a lot of fun with a segment of our lessons in history this year,” Y/N’s eyes went wide and he offered his new teacher a small smile.

“Thank you, Miss Guzmán,”

“Why don’t you find a seat? Any one you like. We’ll be starting our morning lessons in just a few minutes,” Y/N scanned the classroom. There were about twenty desks arranged in clusters of four. Most of them were already occupied by chattering children, some familiar faces from last year. Y/N found an empty desk near the windows, the cluster of desks it was a part of had only one other kid seated. The boy did not look up as Y/N sat down and began to put his school supplies on the desk.

XX

The first few weeks of second grade passed quickly for Y/N. Miss Guzmán was everything Miss Dahl had promised: patient, understanding, and always willing to make accommodations. She gave Y/N extra time on reading assignments, allowed the boy to use colored overlays to help the words stay still, and never made him feel bad for needing to move around during lessons. When the boy started to feel overwhelmed, Miss Guzmán would simply nod toward the back of the classroom where there was a small sensory corner with fidget toys, noise-cancelling headphones, and cozy beanbag chairs. Y/N was grateful for his new teacher’s kindness, and was not the only student in the class to take comfort in the sensory corner.

But Jenny was no longer in Y/N’s class. The red-haired girl had been placed in Miss Noonan’s class across the hall, and while the two friends still saw each other at lunch and recess, it was not the same. Y/N could see Jenny making new friends, laughing with other children and even joined the school’s equestrian club. Y/N’s only friend had drifted away. The son of Hecate tried to not let it hurt, but it did. It felt like another person leaving, another connection slipping through his fingers.

The other students in Y/N’s class seemed to look right through him. It had to be the necklace, Y/N realized. Lou Ellen had explained that the notice-me-not spell would work on mortals as well, to make them not quite pay attention to Y/N, but this was different. It was like the other children did not even register Y/N’s existence. He would sit at his desk, raise his hand to answer a question, and the teacher would call on someone else. He would try to join a group activity, and the other children would simply forget to include him. At lunch, Y/N would sit at an empty table, watching the other kids laugh and play, feeling like a ghost in his own life.

It was lonely. So very lonely.

But there seemed to be another kid in the same shoes as Y/N. Tim Drake sat in the same cluster of desks as the son of Hecate. His black hair always fell into his eyes and cut in a straight fringe like the rest of his hair. His gray-blue eyes always seemed to be watching everything with a deep intensity that other kids called weird but Y/N found comfort in. Tim never spoke much in class -Y/N had heard Miss Guzmán try to gently encourage the other boy to participate more- but when he did speak, it was always thoughtful, almost as if he had been carefully weighing every word before letting them leave his lips. Outside at recess, Tim did not play with the other kids either. Instead, he took photos with a camera that looked too expensive for a kid his age should have. Y/N would watch the boy from his own lonely spot on the swings and wonder what Tim was taking pictures of.

Y/N remembered Tim being in Mister Landry’s class the previous year, and he had been one of the only kids to not laugh when the teacher decided to call the youngest Wayne stupid in front of the whole class. He was quiet and alone then too. Tim lived in Bristol, like Y/N. His family’s estate was just down the road from Wayne Manor. They saw each other on the charter bus most mornings. Y/N usually watched the world go by through the bus windows while Tim read books that looked far too advanced for his age. Sometimes though, the lonely boys would say ‘good morning’ or even spare a smile to the other.

XX

The first week of October arrived with the typical Gotham dreariness: gray skies, persistent drizzle, and leaves that rotted on the ground rather than crunching underfoot. Y/N sat in the back of the town car Alfred was driving; he had picked the young boy up from school instead of letting him take the charter bus home. But the butler did not take the usual streets Y/N knew led back to the Manor. Instead, the son of Hecate found Alfred had gotten on the bridge that would take them across the bay over to Metropolis.

“Where are we going, Alfred?” Y/N peered out at the dark waters of the bay. He had never been to Metropolis before, but did remember that Mister Clark and Miss Lois worked over there. He had not seen the couple in a long time and wondered how the two were doing.

“We are going to meet someone, Young Master. Her name is Doctor Shiloh Blackwood. She is a specialist who helps children navigate difficult emotions,” Alfred kept his voice carefully neutral. Y/N furrowed his brow.

“Difficult emotions? Like what?”

“Like sadness or confusion. Like the feeling of missing someone who isn’t there?” Y/N was quiet for a long moment, his small hand playing with the chain of the necklace his mother had given him.

“Is this about Jay?” Alfred’s grip on the steering wheel tightened while he chanced a glance of Y/N through the rearview mirror. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that no words came. It was apparent that his charge found that his silence was an answer itself since Alfred noticed the boy nodding.

XX

Doctor Shiloh Blackwood’s office was in the quiet part of Metropolis, tucked away on a tree-lined street that felt almost peaceful compared to the chaos of Gotham. The brownstone Alfred parked in front of had a bright blue door and planters in almost every window. Y/N followed the butler into the first floor office and took in the details of the waiting room. The walls were painted a soft green with comfortable-looking armchairs. There was a bookshelf that had a mixture of children's and young adult fiction as well as local magazines and newspapers; Alfred took one of the Daily Planet’s before he sat on one of the armchairs. In one corner, there was a toy chest but a stuffed fox looked like it had fallen out. Y/N walked over to pick up the fox and stared into its button eyes.

“That’s a good choice,” A soft voice made Y/N look away from the fox. They found a woman standing by the previously closed glass doors. She was very tall with silver hair and hazel eyes. She wore a pale pink cardigan over a blouse and slacks. When the woman noticed Y/N’s surprise, she gave the boy a soft smile.

“You must be Y/N Wayne,” The boy nodded shyly, clutching the fox to his chest.

“Well then, hello Y/N. My name is Doctor Shiloh Blackwood, but you can call me Shiloh if you’d like. I’ve heard a lot about you from Alfred,” Y/N glanced over at his butler, who gave his young charge a nod. Shiloh stepped out of the way of the door, revealing her office behind her.

“Why don’t you come in and we can get to know each other? You can bring your new friend, if you wish,” Alfred gave Y/N another reassuring smile and the boy walked into the office area. He tried not to panic as Shiloh closed the door behind them. The doctor pulled back the curtain that was covering the glass door to give Y/N the view of the waiting room.

“I need to keep the door closed for your session. But I don’t mind keeping the curtain pulled back,” Y/N looked up at Shiloh before glancing back at Alfred. The boy waved at him through the window and got one in return. Shiloh walked over to an egg-shaped chair and sat down, grabbing a notebook from the end table next to it. Y/N took in the details of this room as well. There were a few other seat options to choose from: another egg-shaped one, one that was almost like the armchair in front of the fireplace back at the Manor, and even a rainbow-colored beanbag chair. With his new fox friend in hand, Y/N sat down as neatly as he could on the beanbag. For a moment, the doctor and patient stared at each other.

“So did Alfred tell you why you’re here today?” Y/N shook his head as he looked down at the fox.

“He said you help kids who are sad,” Shiloh smiled.

“That’s one way to put it. I help children understand their feelings. Sometimes feelings can be big and confusing, even for us adults, and it’s nice to have someone to talk about them.” 

XX

The therapy sessions became a regular part of Y/N’s routine. Every week, Alfred would drive them across the bay to Metropolis, and Y/N would sit in Shiloh’s office and talk. At first, the son of Hecate did not know what to say. He would clutch the fox, which he named Finnick after a character in one of the books Jay had read aloud, and stare at the colorful rug beneath his feet while Shiloh asked gentle questions about his week, his friends, his school, his family. Slowly, hesitantly, Y/N began to open up.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m invisible,” Y/N admitted during his third session. He was sitting cross-legged on the beanbag chair, Finnick in his lap, his small fingers tracing the stitching on his face.

“Invisible?” Shiloh’s voice was curious, not judgmental. Y/N nodded, but did not look away from Finnick.

“At school. The other kids don’t see me. They look right through me, like I’m not even there,” Y/N glanced up from Finnick to Shiloh, who was writing something down in her notebook.

“Jenny doesn’t sit with me anymore. She has new friends now. And when I try to play with the other kids, they forget I’m there. It’s like I’m a ghost,” Shiloh nodded, her expression thoughtful.

“That sounds very lonely,” Y/N nodded, his eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall. He buried his face against Finnick’s felt body.

“It is. But it’s not like that at camp. At camp, everyone sees me. They talk to me and play with me and…and I’m not invisible there,” Y/N did not see Shiloh making another note.

“Tell me more about camp. What makes it different?” Y/N thought about it. He thought about Lou Ellen and Maeve, about Connor and Julia and Fitz, about Josie and Sienna and Clarisse. He thought about the campfire songs and the strawberry fields and the way the other campers made Y/N feel welcomed. He thought about the feeling of belonging, of being seen and being loved for who he was instead of what his last name meant.

“Everyone there is like me. Well, not exactly like me. But they understand. They don’t think I’m weird for having trouble with words or reading, or for needing to move around a lot. And they don’t look through me. They look at me,”

“Like your family?” Y/N’s expression flickered. He looked back down at Finnick.

“Sometimes. Alfred looks at me. Dickie used to, but he’s sad now. And Pa…” Y/N trailed off, his voice growing small.

“Pa doesn’t look at me anymore. Not really. He’s too busy looking for the monster,” Y/N did not mean to say that. The words had just slipped out. Shiloh’s pen paused over her notebook while Y/N glanced out the window doors toward the waiting room where Alfred was waiting, looking panicked.

“The monster?” Y/N bit his lip. He knew he had said too much and broken the rules that his family had almost cemented into the boy’s mind. But Shiloh’s voice was soft and gentle, like Alfred’s when he was trying to coax the boy out of a bad mood.

“Y/N, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I won’t be upset. And I won’t tell anyone unless you’re in danger. This is a safe space,” Y/N looked back over at Shiloh. The doctor’s hazel eyes were warm and patient. Y/N wanted to trust her.

“I can’t tell you about the monster. It’s a secret,” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper. Shiloh nodded, making another note in her notebook.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. But if you ever want to, I’m here,” Y/N nodded, relief flooding through him as he hugged Finnick to his chest. For the rest of the session, he talked about camp, about the older kids at the local skatepark who were quick to take Y/N under their wing, about the new books Alfred had ordered for him from the demigod contact. By the time the boy made it back to the butler in the waiting room, he felt lighter than he had before.

XX

As the weeks passed, Y/N found small moments of joy wherever he could. Skateboarding had become his escape. On the weekends, Alfred would drive the boy to one of the local skateparks and watch as Y/N practiced the moves Fitz had taught him. The skatepark in Bristol was not well populated with only a few kids that Y/N recognized from galas, but there were a couple of older kids that seemed to look out for the younger ones. For the first couple of visits, the youngest Wayne had to rent a skateboard from the entrance hut.

Alfred had eventually kept his promise and bought Y/N his own skateboard: a beautiful piece of craftsmanship with a dark wood deck and custom paint job in his favorite color with a swarm of bats and birds flying right next to each other. Y/N had cried when he saw it, throwing his arms around the butler and holding tight. The older kids at the skate park had celebrated when the boy came with his new board.

“Thank you, Alfred. Thank you, thank you, thank you,”

“You are most welcome, Young Master. Though I must insist on a full set of protective gear, no matter your demigod nature. Helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards. Non-negotiable,” Y/N had agreed enthusiastically, and Alfred had smiled that rare, warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

XX

After the first couple of sessions, which Shiloh considered the getting-to-know-you visits, the therapist began to ask Y/N questions as a sort of homework; something for the boy to think about until his next visit. Sometimes they felt simple, like ‘what do you do after you have a nightmare?’ or ‘what would you change at school if given the chance?’. Y/N knew the answers for those: Alfred would make the same warm honey milk that Camp Half-Blood had sent the recipe to the butler and the boy would curl up in the library in one of Jason’s hoodies and no more mean teachers.

But it was the questions like ‘what does safe mean to you?’ or even ‘who in your life do you want to be most like when you grow up?’ left Y/N stumped for those week periods between sessions. The boy would go to Alfred to get a better idea on the word ‘safe’. To Y/N, safe meant Dickie’s warm hugs, Alfred’s rare smiles, and when he used to curl up against Jason as he read aloud. But it also meant looking out at the Gotham sky and seeing the bat signal since that meant Batman was out keeping their city safe.

In the middle of December, Shiloh asked a question that made Y/N feel frozen like the snow outside.

“What do you know about death?” Y/N looked up from Finnick in his lap at the therapist.

“Death?” Shiloh nodded, as she made a note in her notebook.

“Yes. That is your homework question for this session. When you come back, I want to know what you know about death and what it means,” Shiloh closed her notebook and stood from her egg chair. Y/N stood up too, still clinging to Finnick.

“Like always, you can ask Alfred and even your brother Dickie about the topic, but make sure you make your own conclusion on what you think death is. Alright?” Y/N nodded, and he held up Finnick for Shiloh to take back like he always did at the end of their sessions.

“How about you take Finnick home with you? Think of him as an early Christmas gift,” Y/N hugged the felt fox to his chest, smiling softly against his faux fur.

“Thank you, Miss Shiloh,” The therapist winked at Y/N before she opened the glass door to the waiting room, where Alfred was waiting.

“See you after the holidays,”

XX

Y/N thought over the word ‘death’ during the car trip home and even during dinner. It was during dessert that the boy finally spoke up.

“Alfred, what is death?” The butler froze as he was placing a piece of strawberry cheesecake in front of Y/N. For a long moment, the only sound in the dining room was the soft ticking of a clock nearby. Alfred’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly before he steadied himself, setting the plate down with his usual precision.

“That is a very heavy question for a young mind, Young Master Y/N,” Alfred’s voice was carefully neutral, but Y/N could see the storm of emotions flickering behind his eyes. The son of Hecate looked down at his cheesecake, suddenly not hungry.

“Miss Shiloh said it was my homework. She said I could ask you and Dickie about it, but I had to come up with my own answer,” Alfred took the seat across from Y/N, folding his hands on the table. The gesture reminded the boy of the way he sat when they first discussed his troubles at school.

“Death is…a transition,” Alfred began slowly, choosing his words with the same care he used when handling fine china.

“A transition from one state of being to another. For some, it is an ending. For others, it is merely a beginning,” Y/N tilted his head, his small fingers tracing the edge of his plate.

“Is it like when someone goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up?” Alfred’s expression flickered again with pain, which he quickly suppressed.

“In a way, yes. But sleep implies the possibility of waking. Death is…permanent. At least in this world,” Y/N thought about the ghosts that haunted Wayne Manor. He thought about Martha and Thomas, about John and Mary, about Catherine. He thought about the way those spirits lingered, unable to move on.

“But the ghosts, they’re still here. They’re not gone gone,” Alfred’s eyes widened slightly. He had known Y/N could see the spirits of the house, but hearing him speak so plainly about them still sent a chill down the butler’s spine.

“The dead can linger, my dear. Some more than others. But they are not truly living. They are echoes of the people they used to be, memories given form,” Y/N considered this, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Then where do they go? When they stop being ghosts, I mean,” Alfred was silent as he considered what to say. He thought about the Wayne family crypt, about the bodies kept there. He thought about the souls that he knew linger in their home, about the ones that he wished he could have just one more moment with.

“The answer to that question, my dear, is one that scholars and philosophers have debated for centuries. Some believe in an afterlife, a realm of peace where the dead find rest. Others believe in reincarnation, in the cycle of rebirth, becoming someone new. And still others believe that when we die, we simply cease to be,” Y/N’s eyes went wide at the different possibilities after death.

“What do you believe, Alfred?” The butler reached across the table and took Y/N’s small hand in his own. His skin was warm and calloused from years of service.

“I believe that death is not something to be feared. It is a natural part of existence, as certain as the rising of the sun. But I also believe that it is the living who suffer the most from it. The dead feel no pain, no grief. They have moved beyond that. But we who are left behind must carry on,” Y/N glanced over Alfred’s shoulder where Martha appeared. One of her pale hands hovered over the butler’s shoulder and she looked like she wanted to cry.

XX

Christmas morning dawned gray and cold, the sky spitting out a mixture of sleet and snow that coated the Manor’s grounds in a thin layer of ice. Y/N had barely slept the night before, or ever since he had sent his letter to Santa a few weeks ago. He had asked for just one thing this year. The boy had been dreaming of Jason, but last night was different. It was not like the normal dreams where he was alive and happy like before, but a new dream where he was standing in the Manor’s foyer, his back to Y/N. He was wearing his Robin uniform, the one with the long yellow cape that the younger boy liked to hide under. But this time, Y/N could tell something was wrong.

“Jay?” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper. Jason had turned, but his face was a blur. He said something, but the words were garbled, like a radio tuned to the wrong station. Then the front door opened, and Jason had walked out into the gray morning, disappearing into the fog.

Y/N had woken in his bedroom, the breath knocked out of him, his small hands clutching at his blankets. He had lain there for a long moment, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars his brothers had once helped put up with his heart pounding in his chest. Then Y/N had gotten up, wrapped himself in one of Jason’s hoodies, and made his way down to the Manor’s foyer. He stood by the front door, just like he had been doing for the past year, waiting for a brother who would never come through it. 

XX

Dick had not intended to come to the Manor on Christmas morning. He had made a promise to himself after that fight in the BatCave, a promise to keep his distance, to protect his heart from the pain of watching Bruce destroy himself. But Kori and his friends had come together to get gifts for Y/N and Dick could not bring himself to be another person to neglect his brother on this day. Alfred had met the former Boy Wonder in the foyer and took the large box of gifts with a fond smile.

“Where’s Little Wing?” Alfred closed the coat closet door after putting away Dick’s jacket. The butler kept his back toward the vigilante for a moment. When the older man turned around, there was a heartbroken look on his face.

“The library,”

“What’s wrong, Alfred?” The butler glanced away with a sigh.

“The doctor I have sent the Young Master to had broached the topic of death recently…” Dick felt something snap in his chest.

“Does he…?” Alfred shook his head.

“No. He asked what I knew about death and what I thought happened afterwards. But Master Jason’s name has not come up yet,” Dick still felt unsteady.

“Then, what happened?” 

“He has been lost in thought since that night. And this morning, I awoke to the young master waiting by the front door again,” Dick knew that Alfred had gotten up at four in the morning to get started on his day. If the butler woke up to find Y/N already up, who knew when the boy woke up themself or if he went to sleep at all.

“There’s also this,” Alfred pulled an envelope out of his inside suit pocket, handing it over to Dick. The mailing address was to Santa Claus in the North Pole, and it was from Y/N. The vigilante pulled the letter out and felt his heart break even more when he saw the one thing his brother had asked for this Christmas.

‘Please send Jay home’

XX

Dick stared at Y/N from the entrance of the library. He was still in his pajamas and looking out at the snow falling onto the grounds of Wayne Manor. There was a stuffed fox on the boy’s lap, where he was absentmindedly playing with one of its ears. As Dick stepped closer, he realized that his little brother had dark shadows under his eyes like he had not been sleeping. Dick sat down next to his brother on the couch. The older man could see that the younger was biting his own lip in thought so the vigilante waited. It was not a long wait before Y/N turned his head to his big brother.

“Dickie?”

“Yeah, Little Wing?” Y/N bit his lip again and looked down at his hands. With a heavy heart, Dick realized that his little brother was wearing one of Jason’s old hoodies

“Jay’s not coming home, is he?” The question hit Dick like a physical blow. He had known this day would come, had even dreaded it, and had prayed he would not be the one to answer it. But here they were, and Y/N was looking at him with those big eyes, fighting back tears, and just hoping Dick would say what Alfred would always say.

Not yet.

Dick opened his mouth, but the lie would not come. He could not do it. Not anymore.

“...No. I’m sorry. Jay…Jay can’t come home…” Y/N’s face crumpled, but he fought to keep his composure.

“Is he lost like Odysseus?” Dick blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. Odysseus? Where would an eight-year-old even learn about some mythical character even he hadn’t even learned about until high school? But he shook the thought away, focusing on what to say next. 

“Little Wing, what did Alfred say about death?”

“Alfred said when someone dies, they are no longer here with us…That death was permanent and no one could come back,” Y/N glanced through the room as if he was looking for or at something before he turned back to Dick.

“But…Jay’s just lost, right, Dickie? He said he’d be back soon. He promised. Dickie. Please, you have to find a way to bring him back,” Dick could feel his heart breaking at his little brother on the verge of a breakdown.

“You and Pa are heroes. You save people. You can save Jay. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good. I’ll never complain about anything ever again. I’ll do all my homework, and eat all my vegetables. I’ll help Alfred with chores. I’ll never, ever ask for anything ever again. Just bring Jay back,”

“Y/N…” Y/N’s tears finally began to slip down his face as he shook his head. He knew Dick only used his name when he was being serious. The boy reached forward with shaky hands, grabbing onto Dick’s shirt.

“No, no. Bring me Jay. I want my Jay. Where is Jay? Dickie, please. He promised,” Dick pulled Y/N against his chest into a tight hug. He let his own tears stream down his face as his little brother kept saying ‘he promised’ over and over again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But Jay’s gone. He’s dead, baby,” Y/N let out a sound that was half-sob, half-scream, burying his face in Dick’s chest. The man held his little brother tightly, rocking him back and forth as if he was a baby again.

XX

The hours blurred together. Y/N’s sobs slowly quieted into hiccups, then into exhausted whimpers. Dick held him through all of it, his own tears drying on his cheeks that he could not bother to wipe away. The snow outside had begun to fall harder, making it hard to see anything. Y/N’s cries had finally exhausted him, his small body going limp against Dick’s chest. The vigilante looked down at his little brother, his face tear-streaked and swollen, his breathing shallow and uneven. He knew he should move him, should get him up to his own bed, but Dick was still an older brother who had just broken his youngest brother’s heart. So sue him, if he wanted to hold onto Y/N for just a little longer.

Dick ran his hand up and down Y/N’s little back. He paused when he felt some sort of metal and cord around his tiny neck. The older man looked down, following the metal and cord around Y/N’s neck and found two very different necklaces. One was a delicate silver with a strange three moon charm with different gemstones; it was beautiful and Dick wondered where Y/N got it. He would have to ask Alfred where his brother had gotten it; maybe he could get one for his Star. The other necklace was a leather cord with a simple-looking bead; it was a silvery blue color with what looked like a twisting green snake painted onto it. That had to be from the camp Y/N went to over the summer. Dick had heard that Alfred had already confirmed the youngest Wayne’s attendance in the upcoming summer; he must have really liked it there.

“Little Wing?” Dick’s voice was barely above a whisper. Y/N stirred slightly, his small hand fisting in his brother’s sweater.

“Don’t go, Dickie. Please, not you too,” The words were so quiet, so broken, that Dick felt his heart shatter all over again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ves’tacha. I’ve got you,” The nickname Dick’s mother once called him just slipped out, but he knew he meant it with his whole heart. Y/N was truly his ‘Beloved’ brother. He pressed a kiss against the top of his head, before he carefully cradled him against his chest as he stood up. The boy’s head lolled against his shoulder, his eyes already fluttering closed, but he still let out a small whimper. 

Dick made his way through the Manor’s halls, not knowing that those that haunted said halls walked alongside him. His parents were at his side, their sad gazes for once not turned toward their son, but to the small one he claimed as family. Martha had kissed her husband’s cheek before leaving him to his constant vigil over the Cave’s entrance as she followed after her grandchildren. Catherine, still weeping since her own son had disappeared from this realm, could only let more tears fall at the sight of the brokenhearted family. Even the ones that Y/N had yet to learn their names, but have been looking after the youngest Wayne since his ghostly sight had been discovered, bowed their heads in solidarity as the two walked past.

Y/N’s room was exactly as the boy had left it earlier that morning, but it felt like a lifetime since Dick had been here. Gone was the crib he made with Alfred; the butler had let the boy choose the colors, a dark green to match Robin’s uniform and a purple so dark it was almost black to match Bruce. In place of the crib was a four-poster bed with drapes in Y/N’s favorite colors, a quilt that Alfred claimed belonged to Martha Wayne’s mother and too many stuffed toys that he knew were from his family and friends. Dick eyed the neon green tiger that he knew Gar had sent the first year he met Y/N as he gently laid the boy on his bed. He began to pull the covers up to his chin, but a small hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay, Dickie. Please,” Y/N’s voice was thick with exhaustion. Dick looked down at the boy and saw the desperation in his eyes, and he knew he could not refuse him. Not today. Probably not ever.

“Okay, Ves’tacha. Scoot over,” Dick pulled his damp sweater over his head, leaving him in his BPD t-shirt. He climbed into the bed and immediately the boy curled right up against him, his small body fitting against his side like he was always meant to be there. Dick wrapped his arms around his little brother again, tucking him against his chest.

“Love you, Dickie,” Y/N went limp once more against his body, finally resting after who knows how long.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than anything,” Dick pressed another kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, feeling him breathing even out. He closed his own eyes, not moving for some time and just listening to the wind howl outside. For the first time in months, Dick did not feel the need to run.

XX

Dick did not leave Y/N’s side for the next couple of days. He told himself it was because his brother needed him, because he was still grieving, because he was too young to be left alone with his pain. But the truth was simpler and more painful: Dick needed Y/N too. The grief that had been festering inside his chest for months had finally broken open, and being near Y/N was the only thing that made it bearable. They spent the days in a quiet haze, opening gifts by the tree and menorah, eating Alfred’s cooking, and talking about everything and nothing.

But Dick could not ignore the elephant in the room. Bruce had not been home. The man’s bedroom and study were empty. The younger man had seen and heard the news reports on the television and radio. The Batman was out there doing what he always did: hunting for the Joker, losing himself to the darkness, and drowning in his grief. Dick wanted to confront Bruce, wanted to scream at him to make him see what he was doing to his family. But when Dick was about to try to do just that, he discovered something that left the former Boy Wonder filled with ice and dread.

Dick had slipped away at the end of dinner one night as Alfred prepared coffee, hot chocolate and dessert. The grandfather clock loomed before him. He pulled the secret lever to reveal the keypad. He entered his access code and waited, but then the screen flashed red, leaving behind one message.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick had stared at the screen, his blood running cold. He tried again, more carefully and slowly this time, making sure each digit was absolutely correct.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick typed in Alfred’s code, the butler had let the younger man know just in case of an emergency.

ACCESS DENIED

“Maybe Jason’s?” Dick put in Jason’s code; he had helped the younger boy figure out his own when he took over as Robin.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick felt a chill run down his spine. He had one more code he could try. The one Bruce made for a worldwide disaster.

ACCESS DENIED

The screen went black, then displayed a single line of text: 

THIS ACCESS POINT HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY DISABLED BY THE SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR

Dick felt something inside him break. Bruce had locked him out. Not just him, but the rest of his family, even the memory of Jason. There was no coming back from this. Dick pulled out his phone and called Barbara. For half a moment, he felt bad, but then his friend picked up on the second ring.

“Dick? What’s wrong?” Barbara’s voice was sharp with concern. Dick could hear someone in the background singing badly while someone was cheering them on. Barbara was probably with her father at the Gotham PD holiday party. That bad feeling filled the man’s chest again.

“Sorry, Babs…I just…” There was a muffled conversation on the other side of the phone call before the singing slowly began to disappear.

“Dick, take a breath and then tell me what’s going on,” Dick took a steadying breath as he leaned against Bruce’s desk.

“He locked me out…”

“Who did?”

“Bruce. I’m at the Manor, and I tried to get into the Cave, and he locked me out. He shut off the access point. None of the codes work. Mine, Alfred’s, Jason’s, even the emergency one,” Barbara gasped as Dick hung his head, closing his eyes. He felt like clinging to the bare threads that were barely holding his family together and he did not know what to do. Barbara was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more careful.

“When Bruce started this crusade, I thought I understood. The Joker ruined my life. He needed to be stopped before he ruined more lives. But…Bruce is no longer the Batman I looked up to anymore. He’s more violent and he’s even started to hesitate listening to my advice,” So Bruce was even shutting out Barbara too.

“But the worst was the other day. Bruce almost killed a man. He may have been a henchman, but he is likely going to be in the hospital for months,” Dick bit his lip as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“I don’t know what to do, Babs,”

“Same,” For a moment, the former Robin and Batgirl let the silence linger. The man who saw the best in them was drowning what he thought was justice, but could it even be called justice anymore. 

“I hate to say it, Dick, but you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved,” Dick sighed.

“I know. But I have to try. He’s still my dad. He’s still Bruce, even if he’s forgotten how to be. We need him…Y/N still needs him,” Dick glanced over towards the door of the study, down the hallway that would lead back to his brother.

“How is my favorite munchkin?” Dick let himself smile at Barbara’s nickname for Y/N. It was rare that his friend would interact with the boy, rarer now due to how inaccessible the Manor was for Barbara’s wheelchair. But he remembered the one time that the former Batgirl had helped Dick watch over Y/N when Bruce was at a gala and Alfred was away for vacation. The toddler had been chaotic and had been running circles around the teenagers, but Barbara had scooped up Y/N and the trio made their way down to the home theater. The rest of that night passed quickly with children’s cartoons and movies and way too much popcorn.

“It’s been a rough couple of days,” Every time Dick tried to tell himself that he should head back to Blüdhaven, he would look at Y/N and feel haunted by his breakdown from the other day. Kori had texted him and told him to keep staying with his brother; the Titans would be fine for a little while without him.

“But now he can start healing,”

“Yeah,”

“Look. I’ll keep an eye on Bruce. I’ll track his patterns, make sure he doesn’t go too far. I can’t stop him, but I can still watch over him,”

“Thanks, Babs. I don’t know what else to do,” Barbara sighed.

“You’re doing what you can, Dick. That’s all any of us can do. Now go take care of Y/N, give him a hug for me,” Dick smiled weakly.

“Thanks, Babs, really for everything,”

“Always,” Dick hung up and stood in the empty study for a moment. He glanced at the clock, trembling at the chill in the air. He knew he should feel angry, should feel betrayed, but all Dick felt was a deep, hollow sadness that echoed in the halls of the Manor.

XX

After almost a week of staying at the Manor, Dick finally had to leave. His boss at BPD had messaged him about covering a shift. The vigilante agreed to come back after one last night. He had to break the news to Y/N and Alfred over dinner, but surprisingly the boy was understanding. All he asked of Dick was to read him a bedside story. So after dinner and Y/N’s nightly routine was almost done, the vigilante found himself back in the boy’s bedroom. As Y/N was brushing his teeth, Dick looked around his room for a book. There was a couple on the nightstand. A small smile appeared on his face when he picked up the first one to find Alice in Wonderland. There was a red and green bookmark with a yellow tassel sticking out towards the end. Dick turned when he heard Y/N’s footsteps coming over.

“Hey, I haven’t read this one in a while. How about this one tonight?” Dick held up the book in his hands. But instead of looking excited, Y/N looked like he was about to cry. The boy quickly snatched the book away from his big brother, hugging it to his chest.

“Whoa…hey, Little Wing, what’s wrong? We don’t snatch things like that,” Y/N wiped at his eyes.

“Sorry, Dickie,” Dick kneeled down, putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on, okay?” Y/N nodded, before looking down at his book.

“It’s just…Jay was reading this before he…” For a second, Dick did not understand but he glanced back down at the book, catching sight of the bookmark once more, at its Robin uniform colors. Then, it clicked in his brain, remembering all the times he had found his brothers reading together and Jason holding that exact bookmark that Dick knew Y/N had made for his big brother.

“Oh…oh, sweetheart. I understand,” Y/N shook his head.

“I know you said Jay is gone, but if I finish the story, then he really is gone. This way, Jay is just in Wonderland with Alice…and I can visit him,” Dick felt his heart breaking all over again. He gave his little brother a gentle smile.

“I get it, Little Wing. I like that idea. How about this? I won’t finish the story for you, but how about we start it over? We can send Jay onto his trip through Wonderland together,” Y/N thought for a moment over Dick’s words before nodding. Dick motioned towards the bed. He waited for Y/N to climb up before he settled in right next to him. The boy tucked himself against the older man’s side as he wrapped his arm around him and then opened the book to the first page.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank…”

XX

The rest of the school year passed in a blur of gray skies and quiet moments. Y/N found a rhythm to his days: school with Miss Guzmán, therapy sessions with Miss Shiloh, skateboarding on weekends, and letters to Lou Ellen and his camp friends. The grief over Jason still lingered like a shadow, but it was no longer the all-consuming darkness that it had been that winter holiday.

In March, Y/N received a letter from Connor Stoll. He was settling into New Rome College, specializing in languages, particularly lost ones. He wrote that he missed Camp Half-Blood but was excited for the future. He also included a photo of himself, his older brother Travis next to a girl and a boy. The girl was apparently Travis’s girlfriend, Ava Delaney, daughter of Pomona while the other boy was Agustín Pérez, son of the Norse god Bragi. Connor had met the son of Bragi at orientation and were supposedly ‘just friends’ but he also called the boy Auggie and had left a small heart by his name on the back of the photo. 

In April, Y/N got a letter from Josie. The daughter of Aphrodite graduated high school early so she could travel Europe with her father as he filmed a new movie over there. She sent photos of ancient ruins and seashores and told the child to keep practicing their cooking skills with the new instructor at camp. She also mentioned meeting a girl while in Rome named Caterina and that she was too pretty for words. Josie lovingly called her Cat and said her father really approved of the Italian girl. Y/N did not know much about romance, that was for bigger kids, but if his friends, Connor and Josie, were happy, then maybe love was something to look forward to when the son of Hecate was older.

Julia sent updates from the Hermes Cabin. She was doing well as the new counselor, though Fitz was taking up Connor’s former role as the camp troublemaker. She had hoped that Alphonse would temper the child of Hermes’s mischief, but lately the two have been working together on pranks. Julia, also, has a new year-round camper by the name of Jubilee; the new camper was only a couple years older than Y/N and had a talent for theatrics. There were several bets being made about Jubilee’s parentage, but Julia was hoping the kid would be claimed by summer just so she did not have to deal with the younger girl’s chaos anymore. 

And Lou Ellen wrote about her preparation for the coming summer, about the new spells she had been practicing and the books she had been collecting for Y/N’s education. She mentioned that she had been in contact with a daughter of Pluto named Hazel Levesque who was also a student of Hecate, but she mainly used the Mist as a weapon other than to use spells. Lou Ellen said Mist training would have to wait until Y/N is older, since it could be really tricky at first. That she was just asking Hazel for some advice and what sort of spells the daughter of Hecate could begin to teach her younger brother.

XX

By the time summer arrived, Y/N had grown in ways both visible and invisible. He was a little taller, a little leaner from all the time spent on his skateboard. His hair had grown longer, falling into his eyes if he did not push it back, but he had waved away Alfred’s attempts to trim it. And there was a quietness to him now, his grief and loneliness clinging to him. But there was also a spark of something new: a determination that flickered behind his eyes like a candle flame.

The day Poppy pulled up to Wayne Manor in his beat-up station wagon, Y/N was waiting by the front door with his trunk packed and Jason’s backpack slung over his shoulders once more. Alfred stood behind him, his hand resting gently on the boy’s shoulder.

“Ready for another summer, kiddo?” Poppy grinned as he hopped out of the car. Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Ready,” Poppy grinned as he popped open the trunk of his car. Alfred knelt down to adjust Y/N’s collar, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“You have the emergency numbers?”

“Yes, Alfred,”

“And the drachmas?”

“Yes, Alfred,”

“And the rules?”

“Eat my vegetables. Listen to my counselors. Write home every week. And have fun,” Alfred nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright.

“Good. Then off you go, Young Master Y/N,” Y/N leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck. The butler held him tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he pulled away.

“I’ll miss you,” Y/N’s voice was a whisper, only for Alfred’s ears to hear.

“And I you, my dear. But you will have a wonderful summer. I am sure of it,” Y/N wiped at his eyes, giving Alfred another smile. Then he turned, grabbed Poppy’s outstretched hand, and climbed into the station wagon. As the car pulled away from the Manor, Y/N looked back through the rear window. Alfred stood in the doorway, a small figure against the grand stone facade. He watched until he disappeared from view, then turned to face the road ahead.

XX

Camp Half-Blood was just as Y/N remembered it: the strawberry fields, cabins that were every color of the rainbow, the sound of laughter and clashing swords. Y/N stepped out of the station wagon and breathed in the familiar scent of pine and salt water. For a moment, the weight that had been pressing on his chest for months seemed to lift just a little. A blur of movement caught their eye, and before Y/N could react, two figures were barreling toward him.

“BABY BAT!!!” Fitz’s voice was unmistakable, carrying across the parking lot like a battle cry. They skidded to a stop in front of Y/N, their green hair messy and now a little longer, a braid framed the right side of their face with an orange-red round stone at the end of it.

“Fitz–” Y/N started, but he was cut off as the child of Hermes scooped him up in a crushing hug. The boy melted into the embrace before Fitz pulled away. The son of Hecate reached up and fixed Fitz’s askew glasses, getting a cheeky grin in thanks.

“You grew! How much? You were a mere gremlin when you left!” Fitz held Y/N at arm’s length, examining him with exaggerated scrutiny.

“You’ve lost your color! Gotham really does not get any sun, does it? And—oh, oh no. You’ve got that look,” Y/N tilted his head.

“What look?”

“That look,” Fitz repeated, pointing at Y/N’s face. The boy pouted in confusion, not totally understanding the child of Hermes’s words.

“The one that says you’ve been through some stuff. The one that says you need a skateboard, a half-pipe and someone to tell you everything’s going to be okay and fed you a bunch of cookies,” Y/N felt his eyes sting, but he blinked rapidly and tried to give Fitz a small smile to placate the child of Hermes.

“I don’t have a look,” Fitz did not look convinced, nor did Julia as she crouched down next to her sibling and Y/N. The daughter of Hermes soothed away some of the son of Hecate’s wild hair.

“You absolutely have a look. But Fitz is right. We’ve got you now, kid. Whatever happened back in Gotham, you’re here now,” Y/N allowed himself to be pulled into another hug by Julia, this one gentler than Fitz’s enthusiastic tackle, but just as warm. The daughter of Hermes held Y/N for a long moment, her hand rubbing small circles on the smaller boy’s back.

“Lou’s been preparing for weeks. She’s even got a whole curriculum planned,” Julia pulled away as she spoke. She looked amused about Lou Ellen’s preparations.

“Come on. Let’s help Poppy get you to your Cabin,”

XX

The Hecate Cabin looked exactly as Y/N remembered it: dark wood, inlaid stones, and carved runes. The door swung open before the boy could get up the stairs, and Lou Ellen stood in the doorway, her white-blonde hair pulled back in its usual twisted bun. There was a familiar screech of an owl further into the cabin, which made the siblings smile.

“Hey hon,” Lou Ellen’s voice was warm as she pulled Y/N into a hug. The boy melted into his big sister’s embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and old books. Y/N felt some of the tension he had not even realized he’d been carrying finally begin to ease.

“I missed you,” Y/N’s voice was muffled against the fabric of Lou Ellen’s overalls.

“I missed you too, little brother. Come on, let’s get you settled. I’ve got so much to show you,” Lou Ellen pulled back, her neon green eyes searching Y/N’s face for a moment. Whatever she saw there made her expression soften.

“You’ve been through it, haven’t you?” Y/N nodded, not trusting his voice. Lou Ellen squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s okay. We’ve got all summer. Plenty of time to talk, or not talk, whichever you need. Heck, I’d bet Clarisse will give you something to hit if that’s what you want,” Lou Ellen picked up Y/N’s trunk that Poppy had left before he went to go meet up with some other Satyrs. The boy giggled a little at his sister’s suggestion about Clarisse as he followed his sister inside their Cabin. Maeve waved her wings at the sight of the Gothamite, screeching in her usual eerie way.

“Hi, Maeve!” Y/N ran over to the barn owl and Maeve leaned down to preen the boy’s hair. Lou Ellen walked over as well after leaving the boy’s trunk by his bed. The daughter of Hecate had a soft smile on her face as she looked at her familiar and little brother.

“She says her owlet looks tired. Have you been sleeping well?” Y/N tilted his head.

“Owlet?’ Lou Ellen let out a small laugh, before taking her seat at the table at the center of the cabin.

“Baby owl. She used to call you Pup at first because of Fitz’s nickname for you, but recently changed it up to Owlet. Now stop ignoring my question,” Y/N bit his lip as he took his own seat across from Lou Ellen. The boy shook his head. His strange dreams had continued since Christmas. It was often about Jason, about forgetting his face and voice, but then it transformed into the same dreams about his father. Y/N could not remember the last time he had seen his father in person. Only fragments of him were scattered around the house: Mister Lucius often came by with paperwork that was left stacked in the study, Alfred had complained about the coffee mugs disappearing from the kitchen cabinets, sometimes a hint of his cologne lingering near his rooms, and even Grandpa Thomas had started to leave the study to roam the Manor with his wife, which he never did.

“Bad dreams,” Lou Ellen frowned at Y/N’s words, but she knew that demigods often had dreams that were considered strange or unusual.

“Did your Alfred make the recipe Will sent him for the honey milk?” The drink was not a cure, just something a camper had seen in a movie and had made one night a young camper had a nightmare. The recipe spread quickly through the camp and it was often made to comfort those who struggled with sleep. Y/N nodded; Alfred had made the honey milk for the bad nights, but those bad nights just kept happening.

“Hmm, maybe we should add lavender or catnip to help. I’ll talk to Will,” Y/N nodded along, but it was clear that Lou Ellen was speaking her thoughts aloud to organize them. The younger son of Hecate looked around the Cabin. It had changed a little since the previous summer. The bookshelves were even more packed, with new scrolls and leather-bound tomes, but the shelf by Y/N’s bed had regular books as well that were suited to the younger boy’s tastes. The table the siblings were seated at was no longer covered in books, though Lou Ellen’s side had a stack of notebooks and sketchbooks, ink bottles and a few books. Maeve was preening herself on her branch attached to the table.

“Okay. So I’ve been working on a system,” Lou Ellen’s voice made Y/N turn back to his sister. The older daughter of Hecate practically vibrated with excitement as she gestured to the table.

“A way to teach you the glyphs that will actually make sense. Mother threw me in without making sure I could float. And while it worked out in the end, I don’t want that for you,” Lou Ellen had been in her early teens when she was finally claimed by Hecate, but she had struggled with her powers even before that. Just like Alabaster had, which was why Luke had gotten his claws in her older brother. Thankfully, it was Julia and then Hazel Levesque who helped the struggling Lou Ellen.

“So I thought about it over these past couple months and then it hit me when I was reading. Glyphs in their own way are their own language. When I make a spell, especially a combined spell, I am making words. Watch,” Lou Ellen grabbed her battle sketchbook; it was circular with easily tearable paper. Julia had commissioned Alphonse to make it for her, as well as several additional ones to replace the old ones. Lou Ellen grabbed one of her pens and flipped open the notebook. She began to draw the spiral glyph for wind, making it the center of the spell. Then she made six teardrop shapes along the spiral outer rim. Lastly to complete the spell and with practiced ease, Lou Ellen drew the spell circle around the entire spell but stopped just before closing the circle. The daughter of Hecate looked up at Y/N, who had watched her do this in a matter of seconds with wide eyes.

“Ready?” Y/N nodded eagerly to Lou Ellen’s question, which the older girl answered with a wink and closed the circle. The daughter of Hecate pressed ink-stained fingers to the center of the spell and let her intent flow through her. 

The ink on the paper began to glow first an eerie white gleam for its wind element that began to twinge with blue for the added water. Fog began to bellow upward off of the paper to drift up into the room. Y/N looked around, fascinated by the soupy mist. Lou Ellen often used this spell as a cover; though she mainly used it for Capture the Flag. Sometimes she could change the color of the fog with different colored inks and her intent; Percy Jackson had been fond of the bright blue fog Lou Ellen had used the one time he was at camp for a visit and got to play the game.

“That’s amazing!” Y/N’s voice was filled with wonder as he watched the fog swirl around them. Lou Ellen grinned, clearly pleased with her little brother’s reaction.

“That’s only just the beginning. Watch this,” Lou Ellen circled her finger against the spell circle, continuing to flow her intent into her work. Around the siblings, the fog began to swirl in the same direction the witch was moving her finger. Y/N whipped his head around to follow the fog, stars in his eyes.

“Can you make shapes?” Lou Ellen grinned at Y/N’s question.

“I can. But it takes a bigger spell circle,” Lou Ellen finally took her finger away from the paper to release the spell. The fog slowly began to dissipate, leaving the room slightly chilled.

“The real magic is in the intention. The glyphs are your words, the spell is the sentence, and your intent is the meaning. Without intent, the glyphs are just shapes. Without the glyphs, the intent has no form. Do you understand?” Y/N thought over Lou Ellen’s words, trying to understand their meaning, before he nodded.

“I think so. The glyphs are like letters, and I put them together to make words. And the words have to mean something, or they don’t work, right?” Lou Ellen’s grin widened.

“Exactly! Do you want to try your first spell?” Y/N nodded eagerly. Lou Ellen tore out the fog spell from her battle notebook as the boy across from her sat up on his knees to watch his big sister.

“The ‘Light’ spell is the easiest, but it’s also one of the most versatile. You can use it to illuminate a room, to create a small flame, or even to blind an opponent if you’re clever enough,” Lou Ellen began to draw the new spell. A dot in the middle of the page was then surrounded by a small circle and then eight short lines like rays of sun wrapped around the middle circle and then finished it off with the final circle. Lou Ellen pressed her finger to the center of her spell to imbue her intent. A small flame came up from the paper. Lou Ellen pulled her finger away from the paper, but did not let go of her intent as she cupped the flame, forcing her focus towards the fire instead. She moved her hand around and the flame moved with her as if tethered to her palm. Lou Ellen then closed her hand, willing away her intent to extinguish the flame. The daughter of Hecate looked over at Y/N, whose mouth was agape. Lou Ellen could not help her chuckling at her little brother.

“Ready?” Y/N nodded again excitedly. Lou Ellen grabbed one of the empty sketchbooks she had available and slid it across the table. The younger boy took off his backpack and pulled out the calligraphy set Alfred had given him. Lou Ellen held up the spell she had just drawn so Y/N could copy it. The son of Hecate drew as carefully as he could with painstaking precision. It was not perfect, but it was close.

“Now, do as I did. Place a finger onto the glyph and focus. Focus on your intent. Think about what you want it to do. What sort of light you want it to become,” Y/N closed his eyes, concentrating. He could have thought about all sorts of light that was in his life that he wanted his light spell to become: about the light that filled his tower at sunset, about the warm glow of the fireplace in the library, even about the way Alfred would turn on the small lamp by Y/N’s bed before saying goodnight. But the light that he thought he wanted was from a memory with Jason, about the nights they would watch fireflies fly all around the gardens. That was what Y/N wanted. Lou Ellen watched a small will-o’-wisp of light pop up from Y/N’s spell, but then it was followed by several others forming as well, exactly like fireflies. 

“Y/N, open your eyes,” Y/N did as he was told and he found himself surrounded by the will-o’-wisps. Some were even blinking like a firefly would, but they stayed floating around their creator. With excited breath, Y/N grinned widely as he looked around at his spell. Lou Ellen could not help but smile as well.

“Okay, release your spell. Let go of what you felt, will them away,” Y/N lifted his finger away from her spell circle. She remembered Jason telling him to say good night to the fireflies so the younger boy could go to bed. So in his mind, Y/N said good night to his will-o’-wisps and the tiny balls of light faded away. The boy beamed over at Lou Ellen, who returned it with a wide smile.

“That was amazing for a first attempt,” For the first time in months, Y/N felt like he had control over something, that he could do something to make a difference in his own life.

“So, about your schedule,” Y/N looked up at Lou Ellen at the sound of her voice. He tilted his head curiously.

“What about my schedule?”

“I would like to include magic lessons during the week, not just the weekend like last summer. So are there any activities you would not mind dropping to do so?” Y/N thought over his usual camp schedule. He liked all of the activities he did, but there were some he was willing to drop.

“Swimming, Archery and Pegasi Riding,” Lou Ellen nodded.

“Sorry, but Archery is nonnegotiable. It’s a required activity for all demigods. Chiron wants us to always be prepared for battle even if we’re in a time of peace,” Y/N pouted a little, but then shrugged. The other activities he dropped could still happen during weekends, since those days were usually free time for the son of Hecate.

“Am I going to be able to do Capture the Flag this year?” Lou Ellen shook her head.

“No. Chiron wants you to progress a little more with your weapons training before he lets you loose in that game. I also want you to have a few magic tricks up your sleeve before you do that too,” Y/N nodded, accepting the answer. He would just have to annoy Clarisse a little more so the daughter of Ares will let the boy do more than just swing a wooden sword. A conch horn could be heard outside in the distance, making the children of Hecate look at each other.

“Dinner time. Come on, I heard from the harpies that there’s going to be a special dessert tonight,” Y/N grinned as he jumped off his chair. The son of Hecate took his backpack over to his bed before he waited by the front door for his sister. Lou Ellen gave Maeve a scratch under the owl’s chin before joining her brother. She held out her hand for Y/N to take.

“Hey, Y/N?” The boy looked up at his sister’s voice. Lou Ellen had a soft smile on her face as she opened the Cabin door.

“I’m proud of you, you know. For today, for everything. You’re going to do great things, I just know it,” Y/N felt his eyes sting, but this time it was not from sadness. He nodded, leaning against his big sister with a small smile on his little face.

“Thanks, Lou,”

“Any time, hon,”

XX

The days at Camp Half-Blood fell back into a comfortable rhythm. He still had the same lessons and activities like the previous summer. There were many familiar faces around the camp, but some people were missing. Josie and Connor were two people Y/N missed the most, but Sherman from Ares Cabin and Sabrine from the Aphrodite Cabin were also gone as well. There were also new people the child of Hecate met; Minho Hwa, a son of Aphrodite who took over the cooking lessons from Josie and Jubilee Radcliffe, the girl Julia had written about in her letters, who was actually Mr. D’s daughter. She was 10, had warm olive skin with freckles all over, hazel eyes and honey-blonde hair that curled wildly. When the daughter of Dionysus wasn’t following after her older brother, Pollux, she still kept to the Hermes Cabin schedule, which meant she was often in the same lessons as Y/N. After a few days of being in the same classes, Jubilee followed the son of Hecate to the half-pipe after dinner.

“So why does Fitz call you Baby Bat?” Y/N looked at Jubilee as he held onto his skateboard.

“I’m from Gotham,” Y/N noticed a pair of bright pink roller skates strung together and thrown over Jubilee’s shoulders.

“Oh that’s cool! I’m from DC. I’ve seen Wonder Woman a couple of times. Have you ever seen Batman?” Y/N bit his lip, wanting more than anything to nod his head, but he shook it instead.

“No. I live in the Bristol neighborhood. We don’t get a lot of villains out there so Batman isn’t seen there much,” Jubilee pouted, but she quickly recovered.

“That’s a shame. But I bet you’ve seen some of the cool stuff anyway. Your city is supposedly haunted or something,” Y/N giggled at Jubilee’s comment about his hometown.

“Or something. I did see the aftermath of Miss Poison Ivy taking over Robinson Park. She made a bunch of huge flowers that reminded me of Wonderland,” Jubilee’s eyes sparkled with excitement as the two kids got closer to the half-pipe.

“Tell me everything!”

XX

Y/N and Jubilee quickly became inseparable. The daughter of Dionysus was loud, enthusiastic, and had a dramatic flair that fit perfectly with her divine parentage, but also apparently her mortal parent as well. Her mother was Nimona Radcliffe, a semi-famous stage actress, and Jubilee eventually wanted to be like her mother. The daughter of Dionysus was going to be a year-round camper, due to her mother’s heavy schedule, so to some degree she knew almost exactly what Y/N went through with his own father. Jubilee was also fiercely loyal, and she took one look at Y/N’s quiet loneliness and decided that the boy needed a friend and that friend was going to be her. It was the kind of friendship that happened quickly and easily, the way friendships did when you were young and the world was still full of possibilities. They spent their free time together: skateboarding and roller-skating, exploring the edges of the forest, trading stories about their families, and making up elaborate games that only they understood the rules to. The camp soon found that if you went looking for one kid, the other was always going to be nearby. For the first time since Jenny had drifted away at school, Y/N had a friend who actually saw him.

But Y/N’s true focus that summer was on magic. Lou Ellen was a patient teacher, encouraging the son of Hecate’s imagination for spells. Every day, Y/N had to try a new spell, whether it turned out right like his will-o’-wisps or really wrong like the time he first attempted a water spell and it shot off the page like a high-powered water gun and sprayed Lou Ellen completely. The daughter of Hecate had laughed that off and immediately hugged her brother to get him wet as well before showing where the younger had gotten wrong with his spell. 

XX

The summer passed in a blur of growth and discovery. Y/N’s magical abilities expanded rapidly under Lou Ellen’s patient tutelage. He learned to form simple shields, to manipulate small objects, to create minor illusions, and even handle various elements to a novice degree. But his favorite spell was his first, his will-o’-wisp fireflies. Just like Lou Ellen could change the color of her spells with different inks, Y/N could do the same with his tiny lights. The boy often fell asleep reading as his will-o’-wisps hovered over him.

But it was not just the magic that Y/N grew in ability. His combat skills had improved somewhat under Clarisse’s watchful eye. The daughter of Ares had finally relented and allowed Y/N to progress from a wooden sword to a blunted bronze blade. Y/N was still clumsy, still too small to properly wield the weapon, but he was determined. He practiced every day, even on the days that he did not have the sword and shield practice, with his small hands developing calluses that Alfred would definitely notice and worry over when Y/N returned home.The boy was not sure if the sword was the weapon he wanted to be his primary weapon, but Clarisse had said that figuring that out could happen when the son of Hecate was older. Lou Ellen had her battle notebook, but she also preferred her bow and even had arrows that had spells carved into their wood; she merely had to focus her magical intent into the arrow and let the arrow loose.

XX

But even as Y/N grew stronger, even as he made friends and learned new skills, the grief still lingered. It was a quiet companion, always present, always waiting. Sometimes, in the dead of night, Y/N would wake from a dream of Jason and lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling and wonder if he would ever feel whole again, if the hole in his heart would ever heal. These thoughts were often accompanied with tears.

Lou Ellen noticed; she always did. She would wake from her own sleep as if she knew that her brother had another bad dream and would pad over to Y/N’s bed with quiet footsteps. Her little brother always made room for his big sister, just like she would if the younger boy came over to her bed. The daughter of Hecate would lay down with Y/N and run her hand through the boy’s hair, humming softly until Y/N’s tears finally stopped.

“I miss him too,” Lou Ellen had whispered one night as Y/N wiped away his tears. The boy looked curiously at his sister.

“I never met him, but I miss him. Because he was important to you, and he made you happy. And I wish I could have known him,” Y/N sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes once more.

“I think he would have liked it here. He would have gotten along with all you big kids really good,” Y/N’s voice was wobbly as the tears threatened to fall once more. Lou Ellen smiled as she pulled Y/N’s blanket over herself and got more comfortable.

“Really? What Cabin do you think would suit him most?” Y/N thought it over as he wiped at his eyes some more.

“Maybe Hermes. Though I think he used to read more than all the Athena kids do,” Lou Ellen chuckled.

“I think we both know that Fitz would have probably driven him up the wall,” Y/N giggled, but then shook his head.

“No. Jay’s favorite book was Pride and Prejudice. He would have liked the fact that Fitz named themself after Mister Darcy. I think he would have also liked the pranks they come up with and would try to use them on Dickie,” Lou Ellen laughed again, bumping her forehead against Y/N’s. The siblings were quiet for a couple of moments, before the younger boy spoke up again.

“Lou? Will it get better? The sadness?” Lou Ellen was quiet for a long moment, her fingers still carding through Y/N’s hair. The only sounds in the Cabin were Maeve’s soft hoot-like snores and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

“I think…” Lou Ellen began slowly, her voice thoughtful.

“I think it gets different. Not easier, exactly, but different. You learn to carry it with you instead of letting it carry you,” Lou Ellen shifted to look down at Y/N’s face, her neon green eyes soft in the darkness.

“Some days, it will feel like the sadness is too heavy, like you can’t breathe around it. And on those days, you have to let yourself feel it. You cry, you scream, you break things if you have to. You don’t have to be strong all the time. That’s what I’m here for, and Alfred, and even Fitz and your other friends,” Y/N pressed his face against Lou Ellen’s shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric of the older girl’s sleep shirt.

“But other days, you’ll wake up and the sadness will be quieter. It’ll still be there, like a shadow that follows you around, but it won’t be so loud. And those are the days you hold onto, because they mean you’re healing, even if it doesn’t feel like it,” Y/N was quiet for a moment, absorbing Lou Ellen’s words. Then, in a voice so small it was almost inaudible, he whispered.

“Do you think Jay knows I still love him? Even though he’s gone?” Lou Ellen felt her heart crack a little at the question. She hugged Y/N tighter, putting her chin atop the boy’s head.

“Hon, I don’t know much about what happens after death. I think it’s different for everyone, mortal or not. But I do know that love doesn’t just disappear when someone dies. It’s still there, and I think…I think they can feel it. Wherever they are,” Y/N sniffled again, burying his face in Lou Ellen’s chest. He missed his Jay, he missed his voice and warm hugs, he missed that he was his hero inside and out of the cape. 

“I hope so too,” The siblings lay there in comfortable silence for a long while, the weight of the conversation settling around them like a heavy blanket. After some time, Lou Ellen heard Y/N’s breathing even out into the slow rhythm of sleep. She pressed a kiss to the top of the younger boy’s head, before she whispered into the darkness of their Cabin.

“Sleep well, little one. I’ve got you,”

XX

The summer ended too quickly, as summers always did. On the last full day of camp, Y/N sat on the dock with his feet dangling over the water, watching the sun set over the Long Island Sound. Jubilee sat beside the son of Hecate, her honey-blonde hair a wild mess of tangles from a day of running around the camp. The two kids had spent their last day together trying to do everything they had not gotten around to doing: a water balloon fight that soon turned into a whole camp escapade, trying each other’s skating equipment that only ended up in a trip to the Apollo Medic Tent and all other sort of things children were supposed to do at their ages. The older demigods just let the two kids be, letting them have this day to themselves, since they knew that Y/N would be headed home the next day and Jubilee would be staying at camp.

“I’m going to miss you,” Jubilee’s voice was surprisingly quiet. Y/N looked over at his friend, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“I’m going to miss you too,” It was true. After the school year of basically being alone, Y/N had someone who understood him and he understood Jubilee too.

“Promise you’ll write?” Jubilee held out her pinky. Y/N linked his pinky with the daughter of Dionysus’s.

“Promise,”

“You’ll come back next summer?”

“Try and stop me,” Jubilee grinned, her usual brightness returning.

“Good. Because I’ve got so many plans for us. The big half-pipe, joining Capture the Flag finally and I even want to try the rope obstacle course with you,” Jubilee was terrified of heights so the obstacle course and Pegasi riding were the only activities from the schedule she did not do. But she had seen how much fun Y/N had up there and thought maybe it would not be so bad if she was up there with her friend. Y/N laughed, the sound surprising him. It felt good to laugh, to feel light, even if the weight of the coming school year loomed over the boy like a storm cloud.

“Deal!”

XX

The drive back to Gotham was long and quiet. Y/N watched the familiar landscapes give way to the familiar gray of his city, his heart heavy with the weight of leaving camp behind. Poppy kept the radio volume low, letting the boy process in silence. When the station wagon finally pulled through the gates of Wayne Manor, Y/N felt a strange mix of emotions: relief at seeing home, sadness at leaving camp, and anxiety at whatever awaited him inside. Alfred was waiting on the front steps, just as he had been the year before. Y/N had barely waited for the car to stop before he launched himself out of the car and to the butler. He threw his arms around the older man’s waist, pressing his face against the butler’s chest.

“Alfred,” Y/N’s voice was muffled against his shirt.

“Welcome home, Young Master,” Alfred’s voice was warm, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Y/N’s head.

“I trust you had a good summer?” Y/N nodded, his eyes stinging with tears. He had learned so much, grown so much, but there was still so much he did not understand. So much that he was still waiting for.

For now, though, Y/N was home. And that was enough.

XX

A few miles away from Wayne Manor, in a mansion that was just as grand but infinitely emptier, Tim Drake sat in his room surrounded by photographs, newspaper clippings, and a conspiracy board that would have made any seasoned detective proud. His computer hummed softly in the corner, its screen displaying a paused frame from a blurry video that had been circulating the hero forums for a few months. 

At the center of Tim’s board was a single photograph: Bruce Wayne, standing outside Wayne Enterprises, his face half-turned away from the camera. But Tim knew what was underneath that expensive suit and that billionaire’s smile. He knew the truth that no one else seemed to know.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

It had taken Tim months to piece it all together. Years, really, if he counted the time he’d spent obsessing over the Caped Crusader. He even risked nights out alone in Gotham just to take photos from afar of Batman and Robin. But soon that obsession led to analyzing every detail of the heroes. The way Batman moved, the way he fought, the way he carried himself; it all soon pointed toward one man. And once Tim had that thread, everything else began to unravel.

The Evidence Board:

Center: Bruce Wayne = Batman

Photo 1: Bruce Wayne at a Wayne Enterprises charity gala, 3 years ago. A large bruise on his jaw that matched the one Batman had received during a confrontation with Killer Croc the night before.

Photo 2: Batman and the first Robin, Dick Grayson, leaping across a Gotham rooftop. The acrobatic style of this Robin matched the exact performances of the former circus performer who Bruce Wayne had adopted.

Photo 3: Batman and the second Robin, Jason Todd, standing next to the BatMobile. Tim had analyzed the angle of the photo and determined that the second Robin was approximately the same height and build as the boy Bruce Wayne had adopted after Dick Grayson moved out. The boy that died several years later at the hands of the worst of Batman’s villains.

Photo 4: Batman all alone. There was no new Robin after Jason Todd’s death. That was a problem. Tim had been monitoring Batman’s activities for over a year, and he had seen the way the vigilante had changed since losing Jason. Batman was more brutal now, more violent. His movements were sharper, less controlled and he was making mistakes.

Photo 5: Y/N Wayne, standing in the schoolyard at Gotham Academy, looking lonely. Underneath this photo was a post-it note with a question mark.

Why is he not Robin?

This was the question that haunted Tim. Bruce Wayne had a biological child. He was the right age to be trained from the beginning. He has been in the Wayne household since infancy, that was long enough to be shaped into a Robin. He has been there for years, growing up alongside Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. He would have known the secrets, should have known the truth of his own family.

But Y/N was not Robin.

Tim had watched him at school, had observed him on the bus, and had even done a few nights of surveillance on the Wayne Manor grounds. Y/N was just a kid; a lonely kid who skated at the local park, who seemed to like Greek mythology, who always seemed to be reading or drawing or just staring out at the Gotham skyline as if waiting for something. Y/N did not have the build of a warrior or soldier. He did not have the scars or the bruises that came from nightly patrol. He did not have the intensity in his eyes that Tim saw in Dick Grayson’s photographs or the determined set of the jaw that Batman wore under his cowl.

Y.N was just a boy who was alone, who was clearly grieving the loss of his brother, who had been forgotten by the father who now spent all his time hunting the monster that had stolen his son.

Why was he not Robin?

Tim did not have an answer for that. Not yet. But he had other pieces of the puzzle that he was fitting together.

Photo 6: A strange station wagon driving up Wayne Manor’s drive. Tim had taken this photo through his telescope. The driver had been a man with an uneven gait. He had been dressed in cargo shorts and a bright pink t-shirt, something utterly out of place in Bristol.

Photo 7: Y/N Wayne getting into that same station wagon, a trunk in the back. Alfred Pennyworth had been standing at the front door, his hand raised in a wave. He had not seemed alarmed nor called for security. He had watched his charge drive away with a stranger without a trace of concern.

Where did Y/N go during the summers?

The question had actually been answered during the school year when Miss Guzmán had the class talk about their summers. Y/N had mentioned going to a summer camp, one that was specialized for kids with ADHD. The youngest Wayne had called it Camp Delphi and Tim had written it down because he had thought it was a strange name for a camp. When he had gotten home later that day, he had gone looking for Camp Delphi. 

It was supposedly in Long Island, New York. Its website boasted about its way of handling kids with ADHD and other learning disabilities. But what Tim found strange was the photos seemed staged, like there was something hiding along the edges. There was no social media presence; in fact the camp seemed to pride itself in being a technology-free camp. There were no reviews from parents or former campers, nor did there seem to be a way to sign up for the camp. 

Just an address and a phone number. When Tim put the address onto a map online, he found a large valley of what looked to be strawberry fields but at the center was a blurred out plot of land that looked like it had several smudges for buildings. When Tim attempted to call the number, he got a voicemail: “Thank you for calling Camp Delphi. The camp director is currently unavailable at the moment. If you have the extension for the activities director, please type that in the keypad and we shall direct your call,”.

Tim stared at his conspiracy board, his eyes tracing the connections between Bruce Wayne and Batman, between the Robins and their civilian identities, between the mysterious summer camp and the youngest Wayne. The pieces were there, but they were not fitting together.

Why are you not Robin?

Tim looked at Y/N’s photograph again, at the loneliness in his eyes, at the way he held himself like someone who had been waiting for a rescue that never came. At times, it felt like Tim was looking at a mirror instead of looking at a different kid. He thought about the way Bruce Wayne had become more and more recluse while Batman had become more violent, more ruthless, more desperate since Jason’s death.

Batman needed a Robin.

Not just as a partner, but as something more fundamental. Jason had been Robin, Dick had been Robin. They had been the anchor that kept Batman grounded, that kept him from falling into the darkness. Without a Robin, Batman was nothing but a man consumed by his own vengeance. Bruce Wayne was spiraling; he was close to losing himself entirely.

And Tim knew that if someone did not step up soon, Batman was going to do something that he could not take back. He was either going to kill the Joker or he was going to get himself killed trying. Either way, Tim could not let that happen.

Tim’s parents were never home. They were archaeologists, always traveling to remote dig sites and always leaving their son alone in the Drake Mansion with only the nanny, who showed up once a week to check on him and make sure he had not starved or burned the house down. Tim had no one looking over his shoulder. No one to tell him that what he was about to do was reckless, dangerous, and probably impossible.

Tim could train. He had access to gym equipment, to knowledge, to the resources he needed to shape himself into what was necessary. He had watched Batman and Robin for years, and had studied their movements and techniques. Tim knew he was not ready to be Robin; not yet. But he could learn. No, he would have to learn.

Tim turned back to his computer, pulling up the files he had created for his plans. It was detailed, almost obsessive in its thoroughness: training schedules, exercise regimens, nutrition plans, detective techniques, even notes on the kinds of mental conditioning he would need to survive Gotham’s streets. Tim had a long way to go. He was only nine years old, and he was not a fighter. But he was smart and determined. He was not going to let Batman destroy himself if Tim could do something about it.

Tim glanced at Y/N’s photograph one more time. He wondered if Y/N had ever felt this way: alone, desperate, willing to do whatever it took to save someone he loved. Maybe he had. Maybe he was still feeling this way as he waited for a father who would not come and grieving a brother who was never coming back. That was the tragedy of it all. Y/N had the potential to be Robin; he could have had the training with the access and his bloodline. But for some reason, he was not.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Tim’s voice was barely a whisper, even though he did not need to be quiet in his museum of a home.

“I don’t know why you’re not the one doing this. But if you can’t, then I will,” Tim stood up, squaring his shoulders. He had a long road ahead of him, one that would require sacrifice, pain and countless hours of training. But Tim will do it; for Batman, for Gotham, for the family he had been watching from afar, the family that did not even know he existed. He was going to prove that he was not just another neglected kid in Gotham, just another forgotten kid who had been left behind.

Tim Drake was going to become something more.

A/N: Soooo, how was it? When I started writing this chapter, I was originally like 'I wonder if it's obvious that one of my first ever ship was DicKori' before shrugging to continue. Also, I tried to be respectful towards Romani culture and language in this story since Dick is Rom and when I was going through a Romani language book, I found the term 'Ves'tacha'; I really hope I used it right, because the book said the term was for someone beloved (of great affection), but did not specify if it was familial or romantic. So if someone does know, please tell me if I need to correct it. Thanks for reading! I hope to update you on the next chapter soon!!!!!

It had been some time since Kori had visited; it had been during one of the strange Earthen holidays that her friends had said she needed to experience. Dick had invited the entirety of the Teen Titans to Wayne Manor for the Giving of Thanks Festival. Only three of their friends had declined: Wally and Roy had plans with their own families while Donna was away to Themyscira. The Manor had been just as beautiful back then, lightly decorated with a fall aesthetic. Bruce had greeted the group of teens while holding his youngest child; a toddler Y/N who looked at her big brother’s strange-looking friends with big, curious eyes. But the small girl was quick to warm up to everyone: giggling at Garfield’s funny faces and jokes, listening in rapt attention to Victor’s stories, having a pretend tea-party with Kori and Tara, and even begging Raven to read her a book. Kori could still remember the fond smile she had seen on Dick’s face when he saw his little sister getting along with his friends and then a stutter in her heartbeat when she watched Dick and Y/N’s goodbye ritual: forehead-to-forehead and rubbing their noses together. When she saw this soft side of Dick, Kori knew she truly had feelings for her best friend.

Dick walked around the car and wrapped an arm around Kori’s waist. She could tell that her love was tired in a way she could not help. The dark bags under his eyes and the heaviness on his shoulders were reminiscent of the time Deathstroke tormented the former Boy Wonder. She knew that the smile on Dick’s face was merely a mask; it was feeble and trembling, threatening to turn into a frown. Kori leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her love’s cheek; the reaction was instantaneous, his smile softened just a little, making it more natural. If it were not for the fact that Dick and Kori were here for a specific reason, she would have told her love to just get back into the car and they could leave. But she wanted to see Y/N, wanting to hear all about her adventures during the summer. 

Kori had read the letters that Alfred had forwarded to Titans Tower. Dick had read a couple but every time he did, it was clear that he felt guilty; he knew he should have been there for some of those moments. But Kori knew that the fights Dick kept having with his father-figure was causing fractures in that big heart of his, making her love dread coming home. She knew that Dick had been relieved that Y/N had not been home all summer and felt horrible for feeling that way.

“Come, my love, let us see your little sister. I am sure she will be glad to see you,” Dick’s smile softened a little more as he pressed a kiss to Kori’s forehead. He let go of her waist to take her hand as they walked forward. As they climbed the stoop stairs, one of the Manor’s large front doors opened to reveal Alfred.

“Master Dick, it’s good to see you are well. And Princess Koriand’r, it is an honor to have you grace our humble home with your presence once more,” Kori giggled as she pulled the butler into a warm hug. Alfred chuckled in good humor, giving the alien princess a squeeze of the arms. Kori let go so Dick could greet his grandfather-figure. Alfred soon stepped out of the way of the door to let the couple inside and then was quick to take at least Kori’s light jacket to reveal the purple summer dress Dick got her as one of his gifts for the anniversary of her Earth arrival.

“Have you been well, Alfred?” Kori quickly took off her shoes to place them at the nearby shoe rack as Dick did the same and Alfred was putting away the princess’s coat.

“I have. It had actually been a quiet summer with the Young Master away at their camp. Apart from Doctor Isley taking up residence at the local farmers market for a tense two days last month,” It had actually been a funny sight to see Poison Ivy standing in the middle of Bristol’s highly acclaimed Lilian Market, hosted by the Hartwell family farm; it was only a few years old and named in honor of one of the family’s grandchildren who had unfortunately passed during a Rogue attack. It had been clear that the villain was there looking for a simple reason to wreck mayhem, probably something about the local rich families using their wealth to inflate prices of their products, but Esme Hartwell, the matriarch of the family, came strolling out of her farm stall. The former doctor had been clearly confused by a woman her grandmother’s age in dirt-covered blue jeans and an oversized straw hat walking right up to the villain without a trace of fear on her aged face. Esme had then given Pamela a guided tour of the Hartwell farmland, showing off how her family had been handling their farm for generations, barely changing how things were done and how well they treated their produce and livestock. The former doctor was later seen the next day working alongside Esme at the farm stall, dressed in some of the farmer’s daughters’ clothes. When Oracle finally sent Batman towards the farmers market, the villain went willingly, but Pamela had actually gotten misty-eyed when Esme promised to come visit her at the asylum with some fresh jam and homemade baked goods for the villain and her friends; Alfred was fairly sure that Esme had just made her farmers market into a neutral zone for heroes, villains and those in between, considering he saw some of Harvey Dent’s men as well a disguised Edward Nygma browsing the wares and actually paying for their goods. 

“Babs told me about that. Is it true that Ivy was actually helping at the market?” Dick looked amused, but he honestly did not mind Pamela. She wasn’t big on hurting kids so the most she would do when Robin was out on the field was tangle the Boy Wonder up in a bunch of vines while focusing on Batman. Even when Dick changed to Nightwing, it was clear that the former doctor was torn between having to fight him or just reverting back to her usual Robin tactics.

“Master Dick, if I had not witnessed it myself, I would not have believed it either,” Alfred closed the coat closet door and started to lead the couple toward the solarium where he knew Y/N was taking her afternoon tea. The butler pretended to not notice Dick glancing towards Bruce’s rooms. Kori took the younger man’s hand once more, giving it a squeeze, before she turned back to Alfred.

“May I ask how the Titans have been doing?” Alfred watched Dick’s gaze lingering on the door to Bruce’s study before he turned back to the butler to answer the older man’s question.

“They’re doing well. Virgil and Jaime stepped up to help Kaldur lead while Brion and Artemis took up the tactician role since…” Dick trailed off, unable to speak Jason’s name out loud. The teen had not taken up the leader role like the former Robin had done, instead choosing to help with tactics and fighting techniques, which was one of Jason’s strong suits.

“What about Y/N? How is she handling…” Kori stopped, glancing over at Dick; it appeared to Alfred that the younger man had cautioned his girlfriend about saying Jason’s name aloud at the Manor. The butler did not like that the name of a boy they had all loved had become taboo. Only one person was allowed to say it and it was merely because Y/N said her nickname for Jason instead. Alfred paused, the solarium’s glass panel doors were opened just a little a few feet away from the group.

“...The young master still sometimes waits at the front door. She asked me when she returned from her camp if…if he had come home yet…” Alfred took a moment to calm his emotions, feeling the wave of sadness once more. He had been caught off guard by Y/N’s question but he had handled it with his usual tact. All the butler could say was ‘not yet’, which the girl had accepted before returning to her meal; Alfred was not ashamed of the tears he let himself weep later that evening. Dick took a quick breath as if he had been punched in the gut while Kori rubbed his arm in comfort.

“...Alfred, I hate to say this but we can’t keep this lie going…It’s only going to break Y/N’s heart even worse once she realizes…” Alfred glanced back at the glass panel doors.

“I know, Master Dick. It breaks my own heart when I have to lie to the Young Master, but I cannot say the words I need to say out loud. I cannot bring myself to be the one who breaks her heart,” Alfred looked back at Dick and the younger man could see that the butler was torn with his emotions.

“So what do we do?” Dick had only been a little older than Y/N when he lost his parents, but he had sort of understood the concept of death by that age. A contourist and one of the strongmen for Haly’s Circus had passed away when Dick was 6 and his parents sat him down and explained why his Zia Ylenia and Ujak Kazimir were not coming back to the circus; Kazimir’s heart finally gave out and Ylenia just never got over the heartbreak of losing the love of her life. He had been mostly devastated by the fact that death was permanent, but comforted by his parents’ faith in that death was merely another form of life; that maybe somewhere out in the universe that Ylenia and Kazimir were together once more. He felt the same about his own parents’ death after he finally accepted Bruce’s help; he hoped that his parents were still together, maybe watching him grow and find family and even love of his own.

“Given Gotham’s track record for doctors and psychiatrists, I have reached out to a contact in Metropolis to help me find a trusted child therapist. She is doing research at the moment and will get back to me shortly. She and I believe that we should wait for the new school year to start before we introduce therapy to the Young Master’s schedule,” Lois Lane had been surprised when Alfred had called but after hearing what was happening with Y/N, she agreed to help. The reporter was after all the reason why the Justice League now had a few trusted therapists added to their medical department; she had seen Clark struggle with losing civilians and Kara still dealing with the fact that she witnessed her entire planet be destroyed and put her foot down. If only Alfred had enough fire in himself to force Bruce into therapy as well, but he had found out just the other day that his access to the BatCave entrance had been revoked with his entry code no longer working.

“That…that’s a good idea…” Dick looked thoughtful, and Alfred could see where the younger man’s thoughts were going.

“If we find a reputable child psychiatrist, I will make sure their name is sent your way. I’m sure your friends and their proteges would appreciate it,” Dick let a soft smile spread across his face.

“Thanks Alfred,” The butler reached forward and gave Dick’s shoulder a squeeze.

“No matter how old you’ve gotten or how far away you move, it is still within my duty to provide you help, even if you do not ask for it. You know how much I’ve disliked how Master Bruce has been treating you lately and I understand the need to be away from him. But you are still family, Master Dick, always,” Alfred could see a shine start to appear in the younger man’s eyes and gave his shoulder another squeeze. Kori hugged Dick’s arm to her chest. The two gave the former Boy Wonder a few moments to collect himself.

“Now, let us join Young Master Y/N in the solarium. I find every moment with her brightens the day just a little more,” Dick wiped at his eyes and sniffed.

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds great,”

XX

Y/N was seated at the same table where her life had changed only a few months ago when she heard voices coming down the hallway. One of the sketchbooks Alfred had placed in her tower was open in front of the child with a couple of bottles of different colored ink. Nearby was a tea tray with Y/N’s favorite mug sitting next to a half-full teapot and a small arrangement of sweets Alfred had set out for afternoon tea. It had only been a few days since the girl had returned from her camp. She had spent these past couple days either catching up with the Manor’s ghosts or trying to readjust to her civilian life that did not have as much activity that camp life had. Alfred had promised a visit to one of Gotham’s skateparks in a day or two after they went shopping for school supplies; the butler needed to see for himself that Y/N could handle herself on a skateboard before he thought about getting her one of her own.

Y/N capped her fountain pen, putting it away in the pen case Alfred had gotten her with one of her favorite cartoon characters embroidered on it as she heard voices get closer to the tea room. She quickly closed the ink bottles as well, remembering the small lecture Alfred had given her about the proper care of her new art supplies. Y/N looked over her hands taking in the sight of the ink stains adorning her skin -dark red with gold flakes, brilliant blue and electric green-, but she knew she would not have the time to properly wash her hands before the guests arrived. For a moment, the girl wondered who was visiting, but then the familiar sound of Dick’s voice made Y/N’s head snap over to the doorway.

“Dickie!” Y/N closed her sketchbook before she scrambled out of her seat and raced over to the doorway. Dick kneeled down as he crossed into the solarium and held out his arms. It took a lot of his training to make sure the two siblings did not fall backwards as Y/N slammed into her big brother with a hug. Dick squeezed the girl for a long moment, before picking Y/N up as he stood; neither sibling wanted to let go of the hug just yet.

“Oof, Little Wing, what did they feed you at that camp of yours? I swear you’ve gotten a little heavier than the last time I saw you,” Y/N leaned back a little in Dick’s arms, her ink-stained hands clutching onto the collar of her brother’s jacket. The vigilante could practically see stars in her eyes.

“S’mores! They’re so good. Have you had one before?” Dick could not help but laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve had some. Can’t believe you haven’t had one this whole time. I’ve failed at being a big brother,” Y/N patted Dick’s cheek as if to reassure the man.

“That’s okay, Dickie. Alfred probably wouldn’t let you give me one anyway,” Dick chuckled, knowing that Y/N was right and the butler definitely would not have let the younger man give his sister a s’more; way too much sugar and barely anyone could keep up with a hyperactive Y/N so it was best that her sugar rushes were handled by that camp of hers. A bell-like laugh sounded behind Dick, making Y/N lean over to look behind her big brother.

“Miss Kori!” Dick turned a little so they could see Kori and Alfred looking at the siblings fondly. Y/N began to wiggle in her brother’s arms, holding out her hands towards the alien princess. Kori let out another laugh before stepping forward to take Y/N away from Dick.

“Little One, it is so good to see you. It has been far too long. You have grown so much,” Dick smiled fondly at two of the people he loved most in the world. Y/N looked up at Kori’s emerald eyes with adoration.

“You did too, Miss Kori. Your hair is longer and fluffier!” Kori could not help the giggle at Y/N’s words; she liked those terms for her hairstyle and would definitely be using them herself.

“Now, come, Little One, you must tell me all about this camp of yours,” Y/N nodded eagerly, but then thought about something. She turned her head toward Alfred, who was picking up the tea tray to go refill the teapot.

“Wait, Alfred, the pictures! We gotta show Dickie and Miss Kori!” Y/N wiggled excitedly in Kori’s arms which tightened just a little so she would not accidentally lose her grip on the wiggling, smaller girl.

“What photos?” Alfred’s tone sounded confused but Y/N could see the twinkle in the butler’s eye that told the girl the man absolutely knew what she meant; he was merely teasing. Alfred tapped a gloved finger to his chin as he pretended to think.

“Alfred! The ones Poppy gave you,”

“Ah yes, those photos. Let me put the kettle on and collect the album I have been making,”

XX

Kori settled into the chair with Y/N seated upon her lap while Dick took the seat right next to them. The man grabbed one of the cookies on the plate that Alfred had left behind and munched on it as he took in the art supplies on the table. He furrowed his brow slightly at the ink bottles and then glanced back at Y/N’s hands that were stained.

“Did you pick up another hobby while you were away?” Y/N looked over at her big brother. She started to nod, but then remembered what Lou Ellen had told the smaller girl to say if she was asked about her supplies.

“Lou Ellen and Ramzi said calligraphy could help with getting the words to stop moving. I haven’t started on words yet, just getting used to the way the pen works. Alfred got me a bunch of pretty colors,” Dick had never heard of that method being used to help with dyslexia, but Alfred had said that the camp Y/N went to was specialized in helping kids with ADHD and other learning disabilities.

“That’s good. I hope it does help,” Y/N grinned at Dick before looking back to Kori to tell her all about Lullaby; though she referred to the Pegasus as a regular horse as per Alfred’s careful instructions. The butler reappeared with a new teapot on his tray and a photo album under his arm. Alfred set the album down in front of Dick before going about pouring everyone a new cup of tea.

“I’m still in the process of transcripting the captions the other campers had made, but I have most of the photos placed,” Dick looked at the album that had a clear title stating ‘Summer One’ in Alfred’s delicate script. He opened it to the first two photos: Y/N in what looked to be a before and after. In one photo she was wearing a too-large bright orange shirt that had a Pegasus on it, the shirt was basically a dress on the girl and Y/N was holding up the excess fabric with a confused look. The next photo was Y/N in the same orange shirt but this time it was the proper size; the girl was smiling while her hair was a mess with a hand still resting on the top of the girl’s head. The caption read ‘There was a mix up at the camp store. They sent the largest size shirt instead of the smallest. Connor snuck in and stole the right size - Julia’.

“So who’s Connor and Julia? They’re the ones who wrote some of your letters, right?” Y/N nodded at Dick’s question as she set the tea cup back down.

“They were my cabin counsels. They were in charge,” Y/N most likely meant counselors, but Dick gave his sister a smile as he turned the next page. They slowly went through the available photos while Y/N described what was going on and Kori and Dick asked questions. But then the former Boy Wonder froze as he stared at one photo. There was a tall black-haired boy kneeling in front of Y/N with paint in his hands; the boy was very carefully painting a neon green domino mask onto Y/N’s face with some streaks of yellow and dots of red along the mask. Dick felt like his heart had frozen over, because for a moment, he did not see a stranger, instead he thought he could see Jason being the one to paint Robin’s domino mask onto Y/N. The vigilante could hear his little sister saying something next to him, but he was not registering the words.

“My love?” Kori placed a warm hand on Dick’s forearm, making him jolt and the whole table looked at him with concern. The man blinked rapidly in an attempt to dislodge the false memory and then took a deep breath before looking toward his girlfriend and his little sister. He forced a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“I’m fine…I’m fine…” It was clear that Dick was trying to reassure himself instead of his loved ones. But his eyes drifted back to the photo; he still could not shake away the fake image of Jason. The boy in the photo had a scar down his face and across his nose that was almost too familiar; Dick had seen what the Joker had done while he was torturing Robin, the jagged ‘J’ had been cut across Jason’s face and forced them to have a closed-casket funeral since no one could handle staring at that mark. Dick could feel tears welling up in his eyes so he stood up from his chair.

“Sorry…I need a moment,”

XX

Kori watched Dick leave the solarium as she glanced back at the photo that had clearly rattled him. Under the photo was another caption in Alfred’s handwriting: ‘Sherman couldn’t say no to Y/N’s little face. I’m going to weaponize this - Connor’. The alien princess wondered what exactly about the photo had sent Dick into a near panic attack, but then she herself could see a similarity to Jason Todd in the teen in the photo; the main difference was that this ‘Sherman’ was a little lighter in color than Jason and it was clear he had brown eyes. Y/N looked up at Kori with worried eyes, one of her small hands reaching up to gently touch the alien princess’s cheek.

“Is Dickie okay? Is he sad?” Kori’s heart clenched at the question. She brought up one of her hands to cover Y/N’s.

“He will be alright, Little One. He simply needs a moment to feel his feelings,” Y/N nodded, not entirely understanding but accepting the explanation. The girl took her hand away from Kori’s face and leaned against her chest in an attempt for some comfort. The alien princess wrapped Y/N in a gentle hug.

“Maybe when Jay comes back, everyone can feel better again,” Kori could feel her heart breaking at Y/N’s words. She did not know what to say to the younger girl so she simply gave her another squeeze. Alfred was sat across from Kori and she could see that what Y/N had said had devastated the older man.

XX

Dick had not meant to walk to Bruce’s study. His feet had simply carried him there while his mind was still trapped in the false memory of Jason painting a Robin mask onto Y/N’s face. The study was empty with stacks of paperwork and even a tray of covered food left abandoned on the desk. Dick walked over to the grandfather clock, shivering at the usual cold spot in front of it. He pulled the secret lever that revealed the keypad and typed in his access code. The wall behind the grandfather clock pushed away, revealing the elevator door for the BatCave.

Dick could barely recognize the man looking back at him in the reflection of metal doors. His tanned skin was pale with dark bags under his eyes. There were a couple of stress pimples peeking out that he knew that Kori was eventually going to force a facemask on him to take care of it. His hair is shaggy and overgrown, covering his eyes and neck, but he could not for the life of him bring himself to ask Alfred or even Gar or Victor to trim it for him. These were just the consequences of his own guilt so he forced himself to bear with them. Dick had known he had been an asshole to Jason while the younger boy was Robin. He had known that all Jason wanted was for them to be like brothers, to be close, but Dick just needed to find who he wanted to be on his own. So he pushed away everyone, even Kori and Y/N, and by the time he felt like he was finally comfortable in his name and skin again, it was too late. Jason was taken by the Joker, Bruce became a man consumed by vengeance, and Y/N was just a reminder that Dick had failed as an older brother. 

After what felt like hours, but was only mere minutes, the elevator doors opened to reveal the extensive BatCave. The dinosaur animatonic was the first thing to greet Dick before the symphony of bat screeches above him started up. The former Boy Wonder could see that the BatMobile was still here so he made his way over to the BatComputer console. It was there that Dick found Bruce; he had his suit on but his cowl was still off. 

Bruce’s head was bowed over the keyboard, his fingers flying across the keys with a speed that spoke of desperation rather than efficiency. The glow of multiple monitors cast harsh shadows across the man’s face, illuminating the gaunt hollows of his cheeks and the tension in his jaw. On one of the screens, Dick could make out several different maps layered over each other as if they were trying to find the same variable. Another held a list of people with many of the names already crossed out.

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice was flat, devoid of the warmth that used to fill it when Dick was just a boy learning to be Robin. He did not turn from the screen, his eyes fixed on the report he had been typing.

“Bruce,” Dick’s voice was equally flat, a mirror of the man who raised him. The two vigilantes stood in silence for a long moment, the only sounds being the distant dripping of water and bat screeches.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Bruce still did not turn around. He instead closed the report he was typing to open up a new file filled with photos of various hide-outs. His father’s words start to fan the flames of anger in Dick’s chest. The guilt that he felt earlier helped fester that anger into something uglier.

“Really? That’s all you have to say to me? I come home after months away, and you won’t even look at me before you send me away?” Dick stepped closer, his hands clenching at his sides.

“I’m busy,”

“Busy,” Dick laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Busy doing what? Chasing another lead that goes nowhere? Running yourself into the ground while the rest of us are left to pick up the pieces?” Bruce finally turned, and Dick felt his breath catch. His father’s face was gaunt, his eyes sunken and ringed with dark circles, and stubble on his chin was almost a beard. 

“What do you want, Dick?”

“I want you to stop this. I want you to come upstairs and have dinner with your family. I want you to spend time with Y/N before she forgets what you look like,” Dick’s voice cracked slightly.

“Bruce, she still thinks Jason is coming back. She waits for him at the front door. She keeps asking Alfred when her brother is going to come home,” Something flickered in Bruce’s eyes -pain, grief, guilt- before it was quickly smothered by the mask he wore when the cowl came on.

“That’s not my problem,” Dick felt something in his chest snap.

“Not your problem? Y/N is your daughter! How can you say that? How can you hear that she doesn’t understand what’s going on and think it’s not your problem?!” Dick’s voice rose.

“Because I can’t fix it!” Bruce slammed his hand against the console, making one of the nearby screens flicker.

“I can’t bring him back! I can’t make this better! The only thing I can do is make sure the monster who did this pays for what he took from us!”

“And what about Y/N?! What about what the Joker took from her?!” Dick was shouting now, his composure finally shattering.

“Jason was her life! He was the one who walked her to her first day of kindergarten. He was the one who read to her every night. He was her everything while she was his! Y/N is seven, Bruce. Seven! And she doesn’t even know that her life will never be the same again,” The words hung in the cavernous space of the BatCave, echoing off the stone walls. Bruce’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, but he said nothing. He just stood there, still as a statue, and his blue eyes glittering with something that might have been pain or might have been anger.

“You want to know what the worst part is?” Dick’s voice dropped to something quieter, but more dangerous.

“I was just upstairs, looking at photos from Y/N’s summer. She was so happy, Bruce. She was laughing, making friends, learning new things. And I realized that I haven’t seen her that happy in almost a year. Not since Jason was still here. Then, she comes home and she has nothing. No brothers, no father, none of the warmth that filled this house since she was left on our doorstep. And what hurts the most is that she knows. Y/N knows that something is wrong, but no one has the guts to tell her. We’re nothing but a bunch of cowards,” The silence that followed Dick’s words were deafening. Bruce’s face had gone completely still, but his eyes were raging. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, dangerous growl; the same voice he would use as Batman.

“How dare you,”

“How dare I what, Bruce? Tell you the truth? How dare I remind you that you have a daughter upstairs who still believes in you? That’s the real tragedy here. Not that Jason died, but that you’re letting his death destroy the family he loved,” Bruce moved so fast Dick barely had time to register it. One moment he was standing several feet away, the next he had Dick by the collar of his jacket, slamming him against the cold stone wall of the Cave. Dick’s head cracked against the rock and he saw stars for a moment.

“You don’t get to lecture me about family,” Bruce’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was filled with a venom Dick had never heard from the man before.

“You left. You walked out. You could not stand to be in the same house as me, so you ran off to Blüdhaven and pretended that was enough. And you want to talk to me about abandonment?” Dick shoved back, breaking out of Bruce’s grip with a speed that surprised them both. He rubbed the back of his head where a lump was already forming, but his eyes never left Bruce’s.

“Because you pushed me away! You pushed everyone away! That’s what you do when things get hard, isn’t it? You isolate yourself, you bury yourself in the work, and you refuse to let anyone in. I learned it from the best,” Dick knew his words weren’t hitting Bruce as well as the younger man wanted. So when he caught sight of Jason’s Robin uniform encased in a glass display box, he knew what he wanted to say next.

“I left because you made me feel like I wasn’t enough. You took Robin away from me. So I tried to become someone you’d be proud of. Jason left because he struggled to be the perfect little soldier you wanted him to be. We will never be good enough for you!” Bruce’s fist connected with Dick’s jaw before either of them could think. Dick stumbled back, more stunned than hurt. The former Boy Wonder pressed a hand where his father-figure just hit. Bruce looked stunned at himself, but he did not apologize.

“Get out,” Bruce’s voice was a low, trembling thing, barely controlled. Dick could feel the warmth of blood trickling from his split lip and he knew he and Bruce both had gone too far. But he could not leave, not without saying one more thing.

“Fine. I’ll go. But you should know,” Dick wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving Bruce’s.

“You’re not just losing me. You’re losing Y/N too. And one day, when you finally come back for air, she may not be there waiting for you. She may stop believing in you and who you think you are when you wear the cowl,” Dick turned and walked toward the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. He paused at the entrance, not looking back at Bruce.

“I hope the Joker is worth it, Bruce. You’re not the man who raised me, I don’t think I even know you anymore,” The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off whatever Bruce might have said in response.

XX

Bruce stared at the closed elevator doors for a long moment, before he looked down at his own hands. On the BatComputer, Oracle’s icon popped up before her voice came over the comm piece in the hero’s ear.

“B? I’m sending you a location on a lead now. It’s an abandoned fun-house on Amusement Mile. A few sources say Joker’s been spotted nearby,” Bruce reached for the comm to answer.

“Copy. I’m on my way out,” Bruce pulled on his cowl, the familiar weight settling over his head like a shroud. As he walked over to the BatMobile, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny surface of the vehicle. For a moment, Bruce did not recognize the man staring back at him.

“She still thinks Jason is coming back. She waits for him at the front door. She keeps asking Alfred when her brother is going to come home,” Bruce closed his eyes and tried to not let that image of his youngest child haunt him. Y/N will understand when she’s older why Bruce did this, why he went to such great lengths to hunt down the monster that took Jason away from them. Dick was wrong, Bruce tried to make himself believe, but he did not think he could lie to himself either.

XX

Kori was waiting for Dick in the foyer when the grandfather clock closed its secret door behind him. The look on her face told the man she had known he had argued with Bruce again. She did not say anything, just walked forward and wrapped her arms around him. Dick tucked his face against her neck as he wrapped his own arms around his girlfriend, taking the amber-vanilla scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her golden skin. He did everything he could to not focus on the overwhelming wave of sadness threatening to consume him. Kori said nothing about the fact that her shoulder was getting wet.

“I love you,” Dick hugged Kori tighter at her whisper.

“I love you too,” The couple held onto each other for another moment longer, before Dick finally pulled away. He rubbed at his eyes, before he looked at his girlfriend guiltily. 

“I can’t stay here. I can’t be in this house,” Kori placed a gentle hand on Dick’s bruised cheek, her emerald eyes searching his face.

“What about Y/N?” Dick’s heart clenched. He shook his head.

“I can’t say goodbye to her. If I see her face, I’ll stay. But I can’t stay. I can’t be here anymore, Kori,” The alien princess studied her love for a long moment, and then nodded.

“I understand. Go to the car. I will say goodbye to Y/N and Alfred. I will explain that we have an emergency with the Titans. I will be quick,” Dick wanted to argue, wanted to tell Kori that he really should be the one to say goodbye, but he couldn’t. If the vigilante went back into the solarium, if he saw Y/N’s trusting little face staring at him with love in those beautiful eyes, Dick would break. So he nodded, pressed a kiss to Kori’s cheek, and walked out the front door. The alien princess watched him go, her heart heavy. Then she turned, squared her shoulders, and walked back down the hallway leading to the solarium.

Y/N was sitting at the table again, her sketchbook open in front of her and her ink-stained fingers carefully drawing a symbol that looked like a spiral. Alfred was nearby, clearing away the tea things, but Kori could see the worry etched into the old butler’s face.

“Little One,” Kori’s voice was soft as she kneeled beside the child. Y/N looked up, her big eyes searching the princess’s face. The girl tilted her head at the older girl as if she could see Kori’s conflicted emotions.

“Where’s Dickie?” Kori reached forward, and caressed Y/N’s cheek, smiling softly as she leaned into her touch.

“Your brother and I need to go. There is an emergency with our team. He asked me to tell you that he loves you very much, and that he will call you soon,” Kori hated the lie, but it was a mercy compared to the truth. Y/N’s face fell for a moment, then brightened again.

“Like a superhero emergency?” Y/N’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Are you going to save someone? Is Miss Raven going to use her magic? Is Mister Gar gonna turn into a tiger again?” Kori could not help but smile at the girl’s excitement.

“I am sure there will be many heroic deeds tonight. Now, I promise you that I will make sure your brother calls you sometime soon. But if you do need him, Alfred does know the numbers for Dick, myself and the Tower,” Both Kori and Y/N glanced over at the butler, who gave them a nod. The girl looked back at the alien princess.

“Miss Kori?”

“Yes, Little One?”

“Could you give Dickie a hug for me?” Kori felt her heart melt at Y/N’s words.

“Of course I will,” Y/N leaned forward to wrap her arms around Kori’s neck, who immediately wrapped her own arms around the young girl. And then Kori felt it.

It was subtle, barely there; a faint hum beneath the surface of the girl’s skin, like a distant melody playing just out of reach. Kori’s breath caught in her throat. She had felt something similar only once before, in the presence of her dearest friend. Raven’s soul had always sung with a dark, ancient harmony; a byproduct of the demonic power that flowed through her veins. But this was different with Y/N; it was softer, younger, more tentative, like a song that was still searching for its notes, still learning what it wanted to become.

But it was magic. Undeniably, unmistakably magic. Kori had spent enough time on Earth to recognize the signs. She had fought alongside sorcerers and mystics, and had witnessed the way magic coiled beneath the skin of those who wielded it. Y/N’s song was barely a whisper, fragile as thread, but it was there; a melody woven into the very fabric of Y/N’s soul, waiting to be sung. The alien princess held the young girl for a moment longer than she had intended, her arms tightening almost imperceptibly. She could feel the faint thrum of potential beneath her fingertips, a power that was only just beginning to stir. Whatever Y/N was becoming, whatever magic was awakening within her, it would change everything. It would change her.

Kori did not know what it meant. She did not know if it was a blessing or a curse, if it was something to be nurtured or feared. But she knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that Y/N was no ordinary child; she never had been. The loneliness that clung to her, the way she saw things others could not, the strange summer camp, the ink-stained fingers, the quiet intensity in her gaze; it all made a terrible, beautiful kind of sense.

Y/N Wayne was magic. And one day that magic would reshape her family in ways none of them could predict. Kori pulled back slowly, her emerald eyes searching Y/N’s face. The girl looked up at her with innocent curiosity, utterly unaware of what she carried within her. Kori’s heart ached with a fierce, protective love.

“Little One,” Kori’s voice was softer now, almost reverent. Y/N tilted her head, waiting.

“Yes, Miss Kori?” Kori opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say? I felt the magic sleeping inside you? I know you are more than you appear? I am afraid for you and I am afraid for everyone who loves you? None of it would help. None of it would make sense to a girl who was still discovering who she was. Instead, Kori leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, letting her lips linger for just a moment longer than usual. She could still feel the faint hum of power against her skin, a warmth that had nothing to do with body heat.

“You are loved, Y/N Wayne. Never forget that,”

XX

The car ride back to Blüdhaven was silent. Dick stared out the window at the passing Gotham skyline, his jaw clenched. Kori drove, her gaze occasionally flickering to her love’s face, but she said nothing. She knew better than to press when he was like this. The sun had fully set by the time they crossed the bridge into Blüdhaven. Dick finally spoke up when they stopped at a red light, his voice hoarse.

“He hit me, Kori,” The princess’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She had seen the bruise starting to form on his jaw, had felt the tension radiating from him, but hearing him say it out loud made something cold settle in her chest.

“I know, my love,”

“He’s never…he’s never done that before. Not to me. Not to anyone he considered family,” Dick’s voice cracked a little.

“I don’t know who that man was down there. That wasn’t Bruce,” Kori reached over and took his hand, her thumb tracing soothing circles across his trembling knuckles.

“Grief can transform even the kindest souls into strangers. But that does not excuse what he did. You did not deserve that,” The light turned green, but Kori did not move. She turned to face Dick fully, her emerald eyes glowing softly in the dim light of the car.

“You are not responsible for his choices, my love. You cannot save someone who does not wish to be saved,” Dick laughed bitterly.

“Then what am I supposed to do? Just give up on him? Despite what he did, he’s still my dad,” Kori squeezed Dick’s hand.

“I know. But you are allowed to protect yourself. Give him space. Eventually he will see the light, but if he can’t, you have to protect Y/N. Because right now, you are the only one who can,” The words hung in the air between them. Dick’s stoic expression started to crumble, and his eyes began to shine with tears. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Kori’s, and let out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know how to do this alone,”

“You are not alone, Richard Grayson. You have me. You have our friends. And you have Y/N, who loves you like you personally hung the moon for her. We will find a way through this. Together,” They sat there for a long moment, forehead to forehead, breathing in sync. Finally, Dick pulled back, his eyes red-rimmed but his expression steadier.

“Let’s go home,” Kori smiled softly and put the car back into drive.

XX

Y/N stood at the large windows by the front door, watching her brother’s car disappear down the long drive. She pressed her small hand against the glass, feeling the cool surface beneath her ink-stained fingers.

“Miss Kori said Dickie would call,” Y/N’s voice was just above a whisper. She could feel Alfred’s presence behind her, steady and warm as always.

“I have no doubt she will make sure of it, Young Master,” Alfred’s voice was gentle, the same tone he used when Y/N was sad and he did not want to push. Y/N finally turned away from the window, her expression thoughtful.

“Dickie was sad. Really sad. Even when he was smiling, his eyes were sad,” Y/N looked down at her hands.

“Do you think if I got really good at magic, I could make him feel better?” Alfred’s expression flickered with a mixture of something complicated: love, worry, and a deep, abiding sadness.

“Master Dick’s sadness is not something that can be fixed with magic, my dear. It is something he must work through on his own. But you being here, being you, does help. More than you know,” Y/N nodded slowly, accepting the answer even if she did not fully understand it.

“Now, I believe I am in need of some assistance with making dinner. Let us test your knowledge of the herbs that you learned over the summer, shall we?”

XX

Gotham Academy loomed before Y/N like a gothic cathedral made of dark stone and stained glass windows. The building was beautiful in a cold, imposing sort of way, its tall windows reflecting the gray sky above. Students milled about the front courtyard, catching up on others’ summers or bemoaning the fact that school is starting again. Y/N stepped out of the Bristol charter bus and immediately tried to blend into the crowd. She spotted her friend, Jenny Hickory, near the front steps, surrounded by a small group of other children. The red-haired girl waved enthusiastically when she saw the youngest Wayne, and Y/N waved back, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Y/N! Over here!” The daughter of Hecate made her way through the crowd, weaving between older students with practiced ease. Jenny threw her arms around Y/N in a tight hug.

“I missed you over the summer! Did you have fun at your camp?” Y/N nodded, her smile growing.

“It was so fun. I learned how to ride a skateboard and make–”

“Hey, Jenny! Miss Noonan is already calling for our class!” One of the other girls tugged on Jenny’s sleeve, pulling her away. The red-haired girl gave Y/N an apologetic look.

“I’ll see you at lunch. We can sit together,” Y/N nodded, watching as Jenny was swept away by the crowd. For a moment, the daughter of Hecate stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by children who did not seem to notice her at all. It was strange, this invisibility. It was as if the other students were looking right through her. Y/N wondered if this was how the ghosts back at the Manor felt when someone living walked right through them.

XX

The second grade classroom at Gotham Academy was bright and welcoming, with posters of the solar system, a reading corner with colorful cushions, and a large world map taking up an entire wall that even had superhero logos next to the cities those heroes operated out of. Y/N stood in the doorway, her new backpack -one that Alfred had purchased during their school supplies trip with patches of an owl and a skateboard properly stitched on and straps for a skateboard attached- felt heavy against the girl’s back. 

Miss Luisa Guzmán was exactly as the note from Miss Dahl had described: warm, patient, and genuinely excited to meet her new students. She had dark curly hair pulled back in a low bun, kind brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She wore a bright yellow cardigan that reminded Y/N of sunflowers over a light blue dress. When she spotted Y/N hovering in the doorway, she immediately crouched down to the girl’s level.

“Y/N Wayne! I’ve heard so much about you,” Miss Guzmán’s voice was soft and melodic.

“Miss Dahl told me about your special interest in Greek myths. I think you’re going to have a lot of fun with a segment of our lessons in history this year,” Y/N’s eyes went wide and she offered her new teacher a small smile.

“Thank you, Miss Guzmán,”

“Why don’t you find a seat? Any one you like. We’ll be starting our morning lessons in just a few minutes,” Y/N scanned the classroom. There were about twenty desks arranged in clusters of four. Most of them were already occupied by chattering children, some familiar faces from last year. Y/N found an empty desk near the windows, the cluster of desks it was a part of had only one other kid seated. The boy did not look up as Y/N sat down and began to put her school supplies on the desk.

XX

The first few weeks of second grade passed quickly for Y/N. Miss Guzmán was everything Miss Dahl had promised: patient, understanding, and always willing to make accommodations. She gave Y/N extra time on reading assignments, allowed the girl to use colored overlays to help the words stay still, and never made her feel bad for needing to move around during lessons. When the girl started to feel overwhelmed, Miss Guzmán would simply nod toward the back of the classroom where there was a small sensory corner with fidget toys, noise-cancelling headphones, and cozy beanbag chairs. Y/N was grateful for her new teacher’s kindness, and was not the only student in the class to take comfort in the sensory corner.

But Jenny was no longer in Y/N’s class. The red-haired girl had been placed in Miss Noonan’s class across the hall, and while the two friends still saw each other at lunch and recess, it was not the same. Y/N could see Jenny making new friends, laughing with other children and even joined the school’s equestrian club. Y/N’s only friend had drifted away. The daughter of Hecate tried to not let it hurt, but it did. It felt like another person leaving, another connection slipping through her fingers.

The other students in Y/N’s class seemed to look right through her. It had to be the necklace, Y/N realized. Lou Ellen had explained that the notice-me-not spell would work on mortals as well, to make them not quite pay attention to Y/N, but this was different. It was like the other children did not even register Y/N’s existence. She would sit at her desk, raise her hand to answer a question, and the teacher would call on someone else. She would try to join a group activity, and the other children would simply forget to include her. At lunch, Y/N would sit at an empty table, watching the other kids laugh and play, feeling like a ghost in her own life.

It was lonely. So very lonely.

But there seemed to be another kid in the same shoes as Y/N. Tim Drake sat in the same cluster of desks as the daughter of Hecate. His black hair always fell into his eyes and cut in a straight fringe like the rest of his hair. His gray-blue eyes always seemed to be watching everything with a deep intensity that other kids called weird but Y/N found comfort in. Tim never spoke much in class -Y/N had heard Miss Guzmán try to gently encourage the boy to participate more- but when he did speak, it was always thoughtful, almost as if he had been carefully weighing every word before letting them leave his lips. Outside at recess, Tim did not play with the other kids either. Instead, he took photos with a camera that looked too expensive for a kid his age should have. Y/N would watch the boy from her lonely spot on the swings and wonder what Tim was taking pictures of.

Y/N remembered Tim being in Mister Landry’s class the previous year, and he had been one of the only kids to not laugh when the teacher decided to call the youngest Wayne stupid in front of the whole class. He was quiet and alone then too. Tim lived in Bristol, like Y/N. His family’s estate was just down the road from Wayne Manor. They saw each other on the charter bus most mornings. Y/N usually watched the world go by through the bus windows while Tim read books that looked far too advanced for his age. Sometimes though, the lonely children would say ‘good morning’ or even spare a smile to the other.

XX

The first week of October arrived with the typical Gotham dreariness: gray skies, persistent drizzle, and leaves that rotted on the ground rather than crunching underfoot. Y/N sat in the back of the town car Alfred was driving; he had picked her up from school instead of letting her take the charter bus home. But the butler did not take the usual streets Y/N knew led back to the Manor. Instead, the daughter of Hecate found Alfred had gotten on the bridge that would take them across the bay over to Metropolis.

“Where are we going, Alfred?” Y/N peered out at the dark waters of the bay. She had never been to Metropolis before, but did remember that Mister Clark and Miss Lois worked over there. She had not seen the couple in a long time and wondered how the two were doing.

“We are going to meet someone, Young Master. Her name is Doctor Shiloh Blackwood. She is a specialist who helps children navigate difficult emotions,” Alfred kept his voice carefully neutral. Y/N furrowed her brow.

“Difficult emotions? Like what?”

“Like sadness or confusion. Like the feeling of missing someone who isn’t there?” Y/N was quiet for a long moment, her small hand playing with the chain of the necklace her mother had given her.

“Is this about Jay?” Alfred’s grip on the steering wheel tightened while he chanced a glance of Y/N through the rearview mirror. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that no words came. It was apparent that his charge found that his silence was an answer itself since Alfred noticed the girl nodding.

XX

Doctor Shiloh Blackwood’s office was in the quiet part of Metropolis, tucked away on a tree-lined street that felt almost peaceful compared to the chaos of Gotham. The brownstone Alfred parked in front of had a bright blue door and planters in almost every window. Y/N followed the butler into the first floor office and took in the details of the waiting room. The walls were painted a soft green with comfortable-looking armchairs. There was a bookshelf that had a mixture of children's and young adult fiction as well as local magazines and newspapers; Alfred took one of the Daily Planet’s before he sat on one of the armchairs. In one corner, there was a toy chest but a stuffed fox looked like it had fallen out. Y/N walked over to pick up the fox and stared into its button eyes.

“That’s a good choice,” A soft voice made Y/N look away from the fox. They found a woman standing by the previously closed glass doors. She was very tall with silver hair and hazel eyes. She wore a pale pink cardigan over a blouse and slacks. When the woman noticed Y/N’s surprise, she gave the girl a soft smile.

“You must be Y/N Wayne,” The girl nodded shyly, clutching the fox to her chest.

“Well then, hello Y/N. My name is Doctor Shiloh Blackwood, but you can call me Shiloh if you’d like. I’ve heard a lot about you from Alfred,” Y/N glanced over at her butler, who gave his young charge a nod. Shiloh stepped out of the way of the door, revealing her office behind her.

“Why don’t you come in and we can get to know each other? You can bring your new friend, if you wish,” Alfred gave Y/N another reassuring smile and the girl walked into the office area. She tried not to panic as Shiloh closed the door behind them. The doctor pulled back the curtain that was covering the glass door to give Y/N the view of the waiting room.

“I need to keep the door closed for your session. But I don’t mind keeping the curtain pulled back,” Y/N looked up at Shiloh before glancing back at Alfred. The girl waved at him through the window and got one in return. Shiloh walked over to an egg-shaped chair and sat down, grabbing a notebook from the end table next to it. Y/N took in the details of this room as well. There were a few other seat options to choose from: another egg-shaped one, one that was almost like the armchair in front of the fireplace back at the Manor, and even a rainbow-colored beanbag chair. With her new fox friend in hand, Y/N sat down as neatly as she could on the beanbag. For a moment, the doctor and patient stared at each other.

“So did Alfred tell you why you’re here today?” Y/N shook her head as she looked down at the fox.

“He said you help kids who are sad,” Shiloh smiled.

“That’s one way to put it. I help children understand their feelings. Sometimes feelings can be big and confusing, even for us adults, and it’s nice to have someone to talk about them.” 

XX

The therapy sessions became a regular part of Y/N’s routine. Every week, Alfred would drive them across the bay to Metropolis, and Y/N would sit in Shiloh’s office and talk. At first, the daughter of Hecate did not know what to say. She would clutch the fox, which she named Finnick after a character in one of the books Jay had read aloud, and stare at the colorful rug beneath her feet while Shiloh asked gentle questions about her week, her friends, her school, her family. Slowly, hesitantly, Y/N began to open up.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m invisible,” Y/N admitted during her third session. She was sitting cross-legged on the beanbag chair, Finnick in her lap, her small fingers tracing the stitching on his face.

“Invisible?” Shiloh’s voice was curious, not judgmental. Y/N nodded, but did not look away from Finnick.

“At school. The other kids don’t see me. They look right through me, like I’m not even there,” Y/N glanced up from Finnick to Shiloh, who was writing something down in her notebook.

“Jenny doesn’t sit with me anymore. She has new friends now. And when I try to play with the other kids, they forget I’m there. It’s like I’m a ghost,” Shiloh nodded, her expression thoughtful.

“That sounds very lonely,” Y/N nodded, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to let fall. She buried her face against Finnick’s felt body.

“It is. But it’s not like that at camp. At camp, everyone sees me. They talk to me and play with me and…and I’m not invisible there,” Y/N did not see Shiloh making another note.

“Tell me more about camp. What makes it different?” Y/N thought about it. She thought about Lou Ellen and Maeve, about Connor and Julia and Fitz, about Josie and Sienna and Clarisse. She thought about the campfire songs and the strawberry fields and the way the other campers made Y/N feel welcomed. She thought about the feeling of belonging, of being seen and being loved for who she was instead of what her last name meant.

“Everyone there is like me. Well, not exactly like me. But they understand. They don’t think I’m weird for having trouble with words or reading, or for needing to move around a lot. And they don’t look through me. They look at me,”

“Like your family?” Y/N’s expression flickered. She looked back down at Finnick.

“Sometimes. Alfred looks at me. Dickie used to, but he’s sad now. And Pa…” Y/N trailed off, her voice growing small.

“Pa doesn’t look at me anymore. Not really. He’s too busy looking for the monster,” Y/N did not mean to say that. The words had just slipped out. Shiloh’s pen paused over her notebook while Y/N glanced out the window doors toward the waiting room where Alfred was waiting, looking panicked.

“The monster?” Y/N bit her lip. She knew she had said too much and broken the rules that her family had almost cemented into the girl’s mind. But Shiloh’s voice was soft and gentle, like Alfred’s when he was trying to coax the girl out of a bad mood.

“Y/N, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I won’t be upset. And I won’t tell anyone unless you’re in danger. This is a safe space,” Y/N looked back over at Shiloh. The doctor’s hazel eyes were warm and patient. Y/N wanted to trust her.

“I can’t tell you about the monster. It’s a secret,” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper. Shiloh nodded, making another note in her notebook.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. But if you ever want to, I’m here,” Y/N nodded, relief flooding through her as she hugged Finnick to her chest. For the rest of the session, she talked about camp, about the older kids at the local skatepark who were quick to take Y/N under their wing, about the new books Alfred had ordered for her from the demigod contact. By the time the girl made it back to the butler in the waiting room, she felt lighter than she had before.

XX

As the weeks passed, Y/N found small moments of joy wherever she could. Skateboarding had become her escape. On the weekends, Alfred would drive the girl to one of the local skateparks and watch as Y/N practiced the moves Fitz had taught her. The skatepark in Bristol was not well populated with only a few kids that Y/N recognized from galas, but there were a couple of older kids that seemed to look out for the younger ones. For the first couple of visits, the youngest Wayne had to rent a skateboard from the entrance hut.

Alfred had eventually kept his promise and bought Y/N her own skateboard: a beautiful piece of craftsmanship with a dark wood deck and custom paint job in her favorite color with a swarm of bats and birds flying right next to each other. Y/N had cried when she saw it, throwing her arms around the butler and holding tight. The older kids at the skate park had celebrated when the girl came with her new board.

“Thank you, Alfred. Thank you, thank you, thank you,”

“You are most welcome, Young Master. Though I must insist on a full set of protective gear, no matter your demigod nature. Helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards. Non-negotiable,” Y/N had agreed enthusiastically, and Alfred had smiled that rare, warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

XX

After the first couple of sessions, which Shiloh considered the getting-to-know-you visits, the therapist began to ask Y/N questions as a sort of homework; something for the girl to think about until her next visit. Sometimes they felt simple, like ‘what do you do after you have a nightmare?’ or ‘what would you change at school if given the chance?’. Y/N knew the answers for those: Alfred would make the same warm honey milk that Camp Half-Blood had sent the recipe to the butler and the girl would curl up in the library in one of Jason’s hoodies and no more mean teachers.

But it was the questions like ‘what does safe mean to you?’ or even ‘who in your life do you want to be most like when you grow up?’ left Y/N stumped for those week periods between sessions. The girl would go to Alfred to get a better idea on the word ‘safe’. To Y/N, safe meant Dickie’s warm hugs, Alfred’s rare smiles, and when she used to curl up against Jason as he read aloud. But it also meant looking out at the Gotham sky and seeing the bat signal since that meant Batman was out keeping their city safe.

In the middle of December, Shiloh asked a question that made Y/N feel frozen like the snow outside.

“What do you know about death?” Y/N looked up from Finnick in her lap at the therapist.

“Death?” Shiloh nodded, as she made a note in her notebook.

“Yes. That is your homework question for this session. When you come back, I want to know what you know about death and what it means,” Shiloh closed her notebook and stood from her egg chair. Y/N stood up too, still clinging to Finnick.

“Like always, you can ask Alfred and even your brother Dickie about the topic, but make sure you make your own conclusion on what you think death is. Alright?” Y/N nodded, and she held up Finnick for Shiloh to take back like she always did at the end of their sessions.

“How about you take Finnick home with you? Think of him as an early Christmas gift,” Y/N hugged the felt fox to her chest, smiling softly against his faux fur.

“Thank you, Miss Shiloh,” The therapist winked at Y/N before she opened the glass door to the waiting room, where Alfred was waiting.

“See you after the holidays,”

XX

Y/N thought over the word ‘death’ during the car trip home and even during dinner. It was during dessert that the girl finally spoke up.

“Alfred, what is death?” The butler froze as he was placing a piece of strawberry cheesecake in front of Y/N. For a long moment, the only sound in the dining room was the soft ticking of a clock nearby. Alfred’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly before he steadied himself, setting the plate down with his usual precision.

“That is a very heavy question for a young mind, Young Master Y/N,” Alfred’s voice was carefully neutral, but Y/N could see the storm of emotions flickering behind his eyes. The daughter of Hecate looked down at her cheesecake, suddenly not hungry.

“Miss Shiloh said it was my homework. She said I could ask you and Dickie about it, but I had to come up with my own answer,” Alfred took the seat across from Y/N, folding his hands on the table. The gesture reminded the girl of the way he sat when they first discussed her troubles at school.

“Death is…a transition,” Alfred began slowly, choosing his words with the same care he used when handling fine china.

“A transition from one state of being to another. For some, it is an ending. For others, it is merely a beginning,” Y/N tilted her head, her small fingers tracing the edge of her plate.

“Is it like when someone goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up?” Alfred’s expression flickered again with pain, which he quickly suppressed.

“In a way, yes. But sleep implies the possibility of waking. Death is…permanent. At least in this world,” Y/N thought about the ghosts that haunted Wayne Manor. She thought about Martha and Thomas, about John and Mary, about Catherine. She thought about the way those spirits lingered, unable to move on.

“But the ghosts, they’re still here. They’re not gone gone,” Alfred’s eyes widened slightly. He had known Y/N could see the spirits of the house, but hearing her speak so plainly about them still sent a chill down the butler’s spine.

“The dead can linger, my dear. Some more than others. But they are not truly living. They are echoes of the people they used to be, memories given form,” Y/N considered this, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Then where do they go? When they stop being ghosts, I mean,” Alfred was silent as he considered what to say. He thought about the Wayne family crypt, about the bodies kept there. He thought about the souls that he knew linger in their home, about the ones that he wished he could have just one more moment with.

“The answer to that question, my dear, is one that scholars and philosophers have debated for centuries. Some believe in an afterlife, a realm of peace where the dead find rest. Others believe in reincarnation, in the cycle of rebirth, becoming someone new. And still others believe that when we die, we simply cease to be,” Y/N’s eyes went wide at the different possibilities after death.

“What do you believe, Alfred?” The butler reached across the table and took Y/N’s small hand in his own. His skin was warm and calloused from years of service.

“I believe that death is not something to be feared. It is a natural part of existence, as certain as the rising of the sun. But I also believe that it is the living who suffer the most from it. The dead feel no pain, no grief. They have moved beyond that. But we who are left behind must carry on,” Y/N glanced over Alfred’s shoulder where Martha appeared. One of her pale hands hovered over the butler’s shoulder and she looked like she wanted to cry.

XX

Christmas morning dawned gray and cold, the sky spitting out a mixture of sleet and snow that coated the Manor’s grounds in a thin layer of ice. Y/N had barely slept the night before, or ever since she had sent her letter to Santa a few weeks ago. She had asked for just one thing this year. The girl had been dreaming of Jason, but last night was different. It was not like the normal dreams where he was alive and happy like before, but a new dream where he was standing in the Manor’s foyer, his back to Y/N. He was wearing his Robin uniform, the one with the long yellow cape that the girl liked to hide under. But this time, Y/N could tell something was wrong.

“Jay?” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper. Jason had turned, but his face was a blur. He said something, but the words were garbled, like a radio tuned to the wrong station. Then the front door opened, and Jason had walked out into the gray morning, disappearing into the fog.

Y/N had woken in her bedroom, the breath knocked out of her, her small hands clutching at her blankets. She had lain there for a long moment, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars her brothers had once helped put up with her heart pounding in her chest. Then Y/N had gotten up, wrapped herself in one of Jason’s hoodies, and made her way down to the Manor’s foyer. She stood by the front door, just like she had been doing for the past year, waiting for a brother who would never come through it. 

XX

Dick had not intended to come to the Manor on Christmas morning. He had made a promise to himself after that fight in the BatCave, a promise to keep his distance, to protect his heart from the pain of watching Bruce destroy himself. But Kori and his friends had come together to get gifts for Y/N and Dick could not bring himself to be another person to neglect his sister on this day. Alfred had met the former Boy Wonder in the foyer and took the large box of gifts with a fond smile.

“Where’s Little Wing?” Alfred closed the coat closet door after putting away Dick’s jacket. The butler kept his back toward the vigilante for a moment. When the older man turned around, there was a heartbroken look on his face.

“The library,”

“What’s wrong, Alfred?” The butler glanced away with a sigh.

“The doctor I have sent the Young Master to had broached the topic of death recently…” Dick felt something snap in his chest.

“Does she…?” Alfred shook his head.

“No. She asked what I knew about death and what I thought happened afterwards. But Master Jason’s name has not come up yet,” Dick still felt unsteady.

“Then, what happened?” 

“She has been lost in thought since that night. And this morning, I awoke to the young master waiting by the front door again,” Dick knew that Alfred had gotten up at four in the morning to get started on his day. If the butler woke up to find Y/N already up, who knew when the girl woke up themself or if she went to sleep at all.

“There’s also this,” Alfred pulled an envelope out of his inside suit pocket, handing it over to Dick. The mailing address was to Santa Claus in the North Pole, and it was from Y/N. The vigilante pulled the letter out and felt his heart break even more when he saw the one thing his sister had asked for this Christmas.

‘Please send Jay home’

XX

Dick stared at Y/N from the entrance of the library. She was still in her pajamas and looking out at the snow falling onto the grounds of Wayne Manor. There was a stuffed fox on the girl’s lap, where she was absentmindedly playing with one of its ears. As he stepped closer, he realized that his little sister had dark shadows under her eyes like she had not been sleeping. Dick sat down next to his sister on the couch. He could see that she was biting her lip in thought so the vigilante waited. It was not a long wait before Y/N turned her head to her big brother.

“Dickie?”

“Yeah, Little Wing?” Y/N bit her lip again and looked down at her hands. With a heavy heart, Dick realized that his little sister was wearing one of Jason’s old hoodies

“Jay’s not coming home, is he?” The question hit Dick like a physical blow. He had known this day would come, had even dreaded it, and had prayed he would not be the one to answer it. But here they were, and Y/N was looking at him with those big eyes, fighting back tears, and just hoping Dick would say what Alfred would always say.

Not yet.

Dick opened his mouth, but the lie would not come. He could not do it. Not anymore.

“...No. I’m sorry. Jay…Jay can’t come home…” Y/N’s face crumpled, but she fought to keep her composure.

“Is he lost like Odysseus?” Dick blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. Odysseus? Where would an eight-year-old even learn about some mythical character even he hadn’t even learned about until high school? But he shook the thought away, focusing on what to say next. 

“Little Wing, what did Alfred say about death?”

“Alfred said when someone dies, they are no longer here with us…That death was permanent and no one could come back,” Y/N glanced through the room as if she was looking for or at something before she turned back to Dick.

“But…Jay’s just lost, right, Dickie? He said he’d be back soon. He promised. Dickie. Please, you have to find a way to bring him back,” Dick could feel his heart breaking at his little sister on the verge of a breakdown.

“You and Pa are heroes. You save people. You can save Jay. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good. I’ll never complain about anything ever again. I’ll do all my homework, and eat all my vegetables. I’ll help Alfred with chores. I’ll never, ever ask for anything ever again. Just bring Jay back,”

“Y/N…” Y/N’s tears finally began to slip down her face as she shook her head. She knew Dick only used her name when he was being serious. The girl reached forward with shaky hands, grabbing onto Dick’s shirt.

“No, no. Bring me Jay. I want my Jay. Where is Jay? Dickie, please. He promised,” Dick pulled Y/N against his chest into a tight hug. He let his own tears stream down his face as his little sister kept saying ‘he promised’ over and over again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But Jay’s gone. He’s dead, baby,” Y/N let out a sound that was half-sob, half-scream, burying her face in Dick’s chest. The man held her tightly, rocking her back and forth as if she was a baby again.

XX

The hours blurred together. Y/N’s sobs slowly quieted into hiccups, then into exhausted whimpers. Dick held her through all of it, his own tears drying on his cheeks that he could not bother to wipe away. The snow outside had begun to fall harder, making it hard to see anything. Y/N’s cries had finally exhausted her, her small body going limp against Dick’s chest. The vigilante looked down at his little sister, her face tear-streaked and swollen, her breathing shallow and uneven. He knew he should move her, should get her up to her bed, but Dick was still an older brother who had just broken his youngest sister’s heart. So sue him, if he wanted to hold onto Y/N for just a little longer.

Dick ran his hand up and down Y/N’s little back. He paused when he felt some sort of metal and cord around her tiny neck. The older man looked down, following the metal and cord around Y/N’s neck and found two very different necklaces. One was a delicate silver with a strange three moon charm with different gemstones; it was beautiful and Dick wondered where Y/N got it. He would have to ask Alfred where his sister had gotten it; maybe he could get one for his Star. The other necklace was a leather cord with a simple-looking bead; it was a silvery blue color with what looked like a twisting green snake painted onto it. That had to be from the camp Y/N went to over the summer. Dick had heard that Alfred had already confirmed the youngest Wayne’s attendance in the upcoming summer; she must have really liked it there.

“Little Wing?” Dick’s voice was barely above a whisper. Y/N stirred slightly, her small hand fisting in his sweater.

“Don’t go, Dickie. Please, not you too,” The words were so quiet, so broken, that Dick felt his heart shatter all over again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ves’tacha. I’ve got you,” The nickname Dick’s mother once called him just slipped out, but he knew he meant it with his whole heart. Y/N was truly his ‘Beloved’ sister. He pressed a kiss against the top of her head, before he carefully cradled her against his chest as he stood up. The girl’s head lolled against his shoulder, her eyes already fluttering closed, but she still let out a small whimper. 

Dick made his way through the Manor’s halls, not knowing that those that haunted said halls walked alongside him. His parents were at his side, their sad gazes for once not turned toward their son, but to the small one he claimed as family. Martha had kissed her husband’s cheek before leaving him to his constant vigil over the Cave’s entrance as she followed after her grandchildren. Catherine, still weeping since her own son had disappeared from this realm, could only let more tears fall at the sight of the brokenhearted family. Even the ones that Y/N had yet to learn their names, but have been looking after the youngest Wayne since her ghostly sight had been discovered, bowed their heads in solidarity as the two walked past.

Y/N’s room was exactly as the girl had left it earlier that morning, but it felt like a lifetime since Dick had been here. Gone was the crib he made with Alfred; the butler had let the boy choose the colors, a dark green to match Robin’s uniform and a purple so dark it was almost black to match Bruce. In place of the crib was a four-poster bed with drapes in Y/N’s favorite colors, a quilt that Alfred claimed belonged to Martha Wayne’s mother and too many stuffed toys that he knew were from his family and friends. Dick eyed the neon green tiger that he knew Gar had sent the first year he met Y/N as he gently laid the girl on her bed. He began to pull the covers up to her chin, but a small hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay, Dickie. Please,” Y/N’s voice was thick with exhaustion. Dick looked down at the girl and saw the desperation in her eyes, and he knew he could not refuse her. Not today. Probably not ever.

“Okay, Ves’tacha. Scoot over,” Dick pulled his damp sweater over his head, leaving him in his BPD t-shirt. He climbed into the bed and immediately the girl curled right up against him, her small body fitting against his side like she was always meant to be there. Dick wrapped his arms around her again, tucking her against his chest.

“Love you, Dickie,” Y/N went limp once more against his body, finally resting after who knows how long.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than anything,” Dick pressed another kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, feeling her breathing even out. He closed his own eyes, not moving for some time and just listening to the wind howl outside. For the first time in months, Dick did not feel the need to run.

XX

Dick did not leave Y/N’s side for the next couple of days. He told himself it was because his sister needed him, because she was still grieving, because she was too young to be left alone with her pain. But the truth was simpler and more painful: Dick needed Y/N too. The grief that had been festering inside his chest for months had finally broken open, and being near Y/N was the only thing that made it bearable. They spent the days in a quiet haze, opening gifts by the tree and menorah, eating Alfred’s cooking, and talking about everything and nothing.

But Dick could not ignore the elephant in the room. Bruce had not been home. The man’s bedroom and study were empty. The younger man had seen and heard the news reports on the television and radio. The Batman was out there doing what he always did: hunting for the Joker, losing himself to the darkness, and drowning in his grief. Dick wanted to confront Bruce, wanted to scream at him to make him see what he was doing to his family. But when Dick was about to try to do just that, he discovered something that left the former Boy Wonder filled with ice and dread.

Dick had slipped away at the end of dinner one night as Alfred prepared coffee, hot chocolate and dessert. The grandfather clock loomed before him. He pulled the secret lever to reveal the keypad. He entered his access code and waited, but then the screen flashed red, leaving behind one message.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick had stared at the screen, his blood running cold. He tried again, more carefully and slowly this time, making sure each digit was absolutely correct.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick typed in Alfred’s code, the butler had let the younger man know just in case of an emergency.

ACCESS DENIED

“Maybe Jason’s?” Dick put in Jason’s code; he had helped the younger boy figure out his own when he took over as Robin.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick felt a chill run down his spine. He had one more code he could try. The one Bruce made for a worldwide disaster.

ACCESS DENIED

The screen went black, then displayed a single line of text: 

THIS ACCESS POINT HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY DISABLED BY THE SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR

Dick felt something inside him break. Bruce had locked him out. Not just him, but the rest of his family, even the memory of Jason. There was no coming back from this. Dick pulled out his phone and called Barbara. For half a moment, he felt bad, but then his friend picked up on the second ring.

“Dick? What’s wrong?” Barbara’s voice was sharp with concern. Dick could hear someone in the background singing badly while someone was cheering them on. Barbara was probably with her father at the Gotham PD holiday party. That bad feeling filled the man’s chest again.

“Sorry, Babs…I just…” There was a muffled conversation on the other side of the phone call before the singing slowly began to disappear.

“Dick, take a breath and then tell me what’s going on,” Dick took a steadying breath as he leaned against Bruce’s desk.

“He locked me out…”

“Who did?”

“Bruce. I’m at the Manor, and I tried to get into the Cave, and he locked me out. He shut off the access point. None of the codes work. Mine, Alfred’s, Jason’s, even the emergency one,” Barbara gasped as Dick hung his head, closing his eyes. He felt like clinging to the bare threads that were barely holding his family together and he did not know what to do. Barbara was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more careful.

“When Bruce started this crusade, I thought I understood. The Joker ruined my life. He needed to be stopped before he ruined more lives. But…Bruce is no longer the Batman I looked up to anymore. He’s more violent and he’s even started to hesitate listening to my advice,” So Bruce was even shutting out Barbara too.

“But the worst was the other day. Bruce almost killed a man. He may have been a henchman, but he is likely going to be in the hospital for months,” Dick bit his lip as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“I don’t know what to do, Babs,”

“Same,” For a moment, the former Robin and Batgirl let the silence linger. The man who saw the best in them was drowning what he thought was justice, but could it even be called justice anymore. 

“I hate to say it, Dick, but you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved,” Dick sighed.

“I know. But I have to try. He’s still my dad. He’s still Bruce, even if he’s forgotten how to be. We need him…Y/N still needs him,” Dick glanced over towards the door of the study, down the hallway that would lead back to his sister.

“How is my favorite munchkin?” Dick let himself smile at Barbara’s nickname for Y/N. It was rare that his friend would interact with the girl, rarer now due to how inaccessible the Manor was for Barbara’s wheelchair. But he remembered the one time that the former Batgirl had helped Dick watch over Y/N when Bruce was at a gala and Alfred was away for vacation. The toddler had been chaotic and had been running circles around the teenagers, but Barbara had scooped up Y/N and the trio made their way down to the home theater. The rest of that night passed quickly with children’s cartoons and movies and way too much popcorn.

“It’s been a rough couple of days,” Every time Dick tried to tell himself that he should head back to Blüdhaven, he would look at Y/N and feel haunted by her breakdown from the other day. Kori had texted him and told him to keep staying with his sister; the Titans would be fine for a little while without him.

“But now she can start healing,”

“Yeah,”

“Look. I’ll keep an eye on Bruce. I’ll track his patterns, make sure he doesn’t go too far. I can’t stop him, but I can still watch over him,”

“Thanks, Babs. I don’t know what else to do,” Barbara sighed.

“You’re doing what you can, Dick. That’s all any of us can do. Now go take care of Y/N, give her a hug for me,” Dick smiled weakly.

“Thanks, Babs, really for everything,”

“Always,” Dick hung up and stood in the empty study for a moment. He glanced at the clock, trembling at the chill in the air. He knew he should feel angry, should feel betrayed, but all Dick felt was a deep, hollow sadness that echoed in the halls of the Manor.

XX

After almost a week of staying at the Manor, Dick finally had to leave. His boss at BPD had messaged him about covering a shift. The vigilante agreed to come back after one last night. He had to break the news to Y/N and Alfred over dinner, but surprisingly the girl was understanding. All she asked of Dick was to read her a bedside story. So after dinner and Y/N’s nightly routine was almost done, the vigilante found himself back in the girl’s bedroom. As Y/N was brushing her teeth, Dick looked around her room for a book. There was a couple on the nightstand. A small smile appeared on his face when he picked up the first one to find Alice in Wonderland. There was a red and green bookmark with a yellow tassel sticking out towards the end. Dick turned when he heard Y/N’s footsteps coming over.

“Hey, I haven’t read this one in a while. How about this one tonight?” Dick held up the book in his hands. But instead of looking excited, Y/N looked like she was about to cry. The girl quickly snatched the book away from her big brother, hugging it to her chest.

“Whoa…hey, Little Wing, what’s wrong? We don’t snatch things like that,” Y/N wiped at her eyes.

“Sorry, Dickie,” Dick kneeled down, putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on, okay?” Y/N nodded, before looking down at her book.

“It’s just…Jay was reading this before he…” For a second, Dick did not understand but he glanced back down at the book, catching sight of the bookmark once more, at its Robin uniform colors. Then, it clicked in his brain, remembering all the times he had found his siblings reading together and Jason holding that exact bookmark that Dick knew Y/N had made for her big brother.

“Oh…oh, sweetheart. I understand,” Y/N shook her head.

“I know you said Jay is gone, but if I finish the story, then he really is gone. This way, Jay is just in Wonderland with Alice…and I can visit him,” Dick felt his heart breaking all over again. He gave his little sister a gentle smile.

“I get it, Little Wing. I like that idea. How about this? I won’t finish the story for you, but how about we start it over? We can send Jay onto his trip through Wonderland together,” Y/N thought for a moment over Dick’s words before nodding. Dick motioned towards the bed. He waited for Y/N to climb up before he settled in right next to her. The girl tucked herself against the older man’s side as he wrapped his arm around her and then opened the book to the first page.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank…”

XX

The rest of the school year passed in a blur of gray skies and quiet moments. Y/N found a rhythm to her days: school with Miss Guzmán, therapy sessions with Miss Shiloh, skateboarding on weekends, and letters to Lou Ellen and her camp friends. The grief over Jason still lingered like a shadow, but it was no longer the all-consuming darkness that it had been that winter holiday.

In March, Y/N received a letter from Connor Stoll. He was settling into New Rome College, specializing in languages, particularly lost ones. He wrote that he missed Camp Half-Blood but was excited for the future. He also included a photo of himself, his older brother Travis next to a girl and a boy. The girl was apparently Travis’s girlfriend, Ava Delaney, daughter of Pomona while the other boy was Agustín Pérez, son of the Norse god Bragi. Connor had met the son of Bragi at orientation and were supposedly ‘just friends’ but he also called the boy Auggie and had left a small heart by his name on the back of the photo. 

In April, Y/N got a letter from Josie. The daughter of Aphrodite graduated high school early so she could travel Europe with her father as he filmed a new movie over there. She sent photos of ancient ruins and seashores and told the child to keep practicing their cooking skills with the new instructor at camp. She also mentioned meeting a girl while in Rome named Caterina and that she was too pretty for words. Josie lovingly called her Cat and said her father really approved of the Italian girl. Y/N did not know much about romance, that was for bigger kids, but if her friends, Connor and Josie, were happy, then maybe love was something to look forward to when the daughter of Hecate was older.

Julia sent updates from the Hermes Cabin. She was doing well as the new counselor, though Fitz was taking up Connor’s former role as the camp troublemaker. She had hoped that Alphonse would temper the child of Hermes’s mischief, but lately the two have been working together on pranks. Julia, also, has a new year-round camper by the name of Jubilee; the new camper was only a couple years older than Y/N and had a talent for theatrics. There were several bets being made about Jubilee’s parentage, but Julia was hoping the kid would be claimed by summer just so she did not have to deal with the younger girl’s chaos anymore. 

And Lou Ellen wrote about her preparation for the coming summer, about the new spells she had been practicing and the books she had been collecting for Y/N’s education. She mentioned that she had been in contact with a daughter of Pluto named Hazel Levesque who was also a student of Hecate, but she mainly used the Mist as a weapon other than to use spells. Lou Ellen said Mist training would have to wait until Y/N is older, since it could be really tricky at first. That she was just asking Hazel for some advice and what sort of spells the daughter of Hecate could begin to teach her younger sister.

XX

By the time summer arrived, Y/N had grown in ways both visible and invisible. She was a little taller, a little leaner from all the time spent on her skateboard. Her hair had grown longer, falling into her eyes if she did not push it back, but she had waved away Alfred’s attempts to trim it. And there was a quietness to her now, her grief and loneliness clinging to her. But there was also a spark of something new: a determination that flickered behind her eyes like a candle flame.

The day Poppy pulled up to Wayne Manor in his beat-up station wagon, Y/N was waiting by the front door with her trunk packed and Jason’s backpack slung over her shoulders once more. Alfred stood behind her, his hand resting gently on the girl’s shoulder.

“Ready for another summer, kiddo?” Poppy grinned as he hopped out of the car. Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Ready,” Poppy grinned as he popped open the trunk of his car. Alfred knelt down to adjust Y/N’s collar, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“You have the emergency numbers?”

“Yes, Alfred,”

“And the drachmas?”

“Yes, Alfred,”

“And the rules?”

“Eat my vegetables. Listen to my counselors. Write home every week. And have fun,” Alfred nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright.

“Good. Then off you go, Young Master Y/N,” Y/N leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Alfred’s neck. The butler held her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he pulled away.

“I’ll miss you,” Y/N’s voice was a whisper, only for Alfred’s ears to hear.

“And I you, my dear. But you will have a wonderful summer. I am sure of it,” Y/N wiped at her eyes, giving Alfred another smile. Then she turned, grabbed Poppy’s outstretched hand, and climbed into the station wagon. As the car pulled away from the Manor, Y/N looked back through the rear window. Alfred stood in the doorway, a small figure against the grand stone facade. She watched until he disappeared from view, then turned to face the road ahead.

XX

Camp Half-Blood was just as Y/N remembered it: the strawberry fields, cabins that were every color of the rainbow, the sound of laughter and clashing swords. Y/N stepped out of the station wagon and breathed in the familiar scent of pine and salt water. For a moment, the weight that had been pressing on her chest for months seemed to lift just a little. A blur of movement caught their eye, and before Y/N could react, two figures were barreling toward her.

“BABY BAT!!!” Fitz’s voice was unmistakable, carrying across the parking lot like a battle cry. They skidded to a stop in front of Y/N, their green hair messy and now a little longer, a braid framed the right side of their face with an orange-red round stone at the end of it.

“Fitz–” Y/N started, but she was cut off as the child of Hermes scooped her up in a crushing hug. The girl melted into the embrace before Fitz pulled away. The daughter of Hecate reached up and fixed Fitz’s askew glasses, getting a cheeky grin in thanks.

“You grew! How much? You were a mere gremlin when you left!” Fitz held Y/N at arm’s length, examining her with exaggerated scrutiny.

“You’ve lost your color! Gotham really does not get any sun, does it? And—oh, oh no. You’ve got that look,” Y/N tilted her head.

“What look?”

“That look,” Fitz repeated, pointing at Y/N’s face. The girl pouted in confusion, not totally understanding the child of Hermes’s words.

“The one that says you’ve been through some stuff. The one that says you need a skateboard, a half-pipe and someone to tell you everything’s going to be okay and fed you a bunch of cookies,” Y/N felt her eyes sting, but she blinked rapidly and tried to give Fitz a small smile to placate the child of Hermes.

“I don’t have a look,” Fitz did not look convinced, nor did Julia as she crouched down next to her sibling and Y/N. The daughter of Hermes soothed away some of the daughter of Hecate’s wild hair.

“You absolutely have a look. But Fitz is right. We’ve got you now, kid. Whatever happened back in Gotham, you’re here now,” Y/N allowed herself to be pulled into another hug by Julia, this one gentler than Fitz’s enthusiastic tackle, but just as warm. The daughter of Hermes held Y/N for a long moment, her hand rubbing small circles on the smaller girl’s back.

“Lou’s been preparing for weeks. She’s even got a whole curriculum planned,” Julia pulled away as she spoke. She looked amused about Lou Ellen’s preparations.

“Come on. Let’s help Poppy get you to your Cabin,”

XX

The Hecate Cabin looked exactly as Y/N remembered it: dark wood, inlaid stones, and carved runes. The door swung open before the girl could get up the stairs, and Lou Ellen stood in the doorway, her white-blonde hair pulled back in its usual twisted bun. There was a familiar screech of an owl further into the cabin, which made the sisters smile.

“Hey hon,” Lou Ellen’s voice was warm as she pulled Y/N into a hug. The girl melted into her big sister’s embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and old books. Y/N felt some of the tension she had not even realized she’d been carrying finally begin to ease.

“I missed you,” Y/N’s voice was muffled against the fabric of Lou Ellen’s overalls.

“I missed you too, little sister. Come on, let’s get you settled. I’ve got so much to show you,” Lou Ellen pulled back, her neon green eyes searching Y/N’s face for a moment. Whatever she saw there made her expression soften.

“You’ve been through it, haven’t you?” Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice. Lou Ellen squeezed her shoulder.

“It’s okay. We’ve got all summer. Plenty of time to talk, or not talk, whichever you need. Heck, I’d bet Clarisse will give you something to hit if that’s what you want,” Lou Ellen picked up Y/N’s trunk that Poppy had left before he went to go meet up with some other Satyrs. The girl giggled a little at her sister’s suggestion about Clarisse as she followed her sister inside their cabin. Maeve waved her wings at the sight of the Gothamite, screeching in her usual eerie way.

“Hi, Maeve!” Y/N ran over to the barn owl and Maeve leaned down to preen the girl’s hair. Lou Ellen walked over as well after leaving the girl’s trunk by her bed. The daughter of Hecate had a soft smile on her face as she looked at her familiar and little sister.

“She says her owlet looks tired. Have you been sleeping well?” Y/N tilted her head.

“Owlet?’ Lou Ellen let out a small laugh, before taking her seat at the table at the center of the cabin.

“Baby owl. She used to call you Pup at first because of Fitz’s nickname for you, but recently changed it up to Owlet. Now stop ignoring my question,” Y/N bit her lip as she took her own seat across from Lou Ellen. The girl shook her head. Her strange dreams had continued since Christmas. It was often about Jason, about forgetting his face and voice, but then it transformed into the same dreams about her father. Y/N could not remember the last time she had seen her father in person. Only fragments of him were scattered around the house: Mister Lucius often came by with paperwork that was left stacked in the study, Alfred had complained about the coffee mugs disappearing from the kitchen cabinets, sometimes a hint of his cologne lingering near his rooms, and even Grandpa Thomas had started to leave the study to roam the Manor with his wife, which he never did.

“Bad dreams,” Lou Ellen frowned at Y/N’s words, but she knew that demigods often had dreams that were considered strange or unusual.

“Did your Alfred make the recipe Will sent him for the honey milk?” The drink was not a cure, just something a camper had seen in a movie and had made one night a young camper had a nightmare. The recipe spread quickly through the camp and it was often made to comfort those who struggled with sleep. Y/N nodded; Alfred had made the honey milk for the bad nights, but those bad nights just kept happening.

“Hmm, maybe we should add lavender or catnip to help. I’ll talk to Will,” Y/N nodded along, but it was clear that Lou Ellen was speaking her thoughts aloud to organize them. The younger daughter of Hecate looked around the Cabin. It had changed a little since the previous summer. The bookshelves were even more packed, with new scrolls and leather-bound tomes, but the shelf by Y/N’s bed had regular books as well that were suited to the younger girl’s tastes. The table the sisters were seated at was no longer covered in books, though Lou Ellen’s side had a stack of notebooks and sketchbooks, ink bottles and a few books. Maeve was preening herself on her branch attached to the table.

“Okay. So I’ve been working on a system,” Lou Ellen’s voice made Y/N turn back to her sister. The older daughter of Hecate practically vibrated with excitement as she gestured to the table.

“A way to teach you the glyphs that will actually make sense. Mother threw me in without making sure I could float. And while it worked out in the end, I don’t want that for you,” Lou Ellen had been in her early teens when she was finally claimed by Hecate, but she had struggled with her powers even before that. Just like Alabaster had, which was why Luke had gotten his claws in her older brother. Thankfully, it was Julia and then Hazel Levesque who helped the struggling Lou Ellen.

“So I thought about it over these past couple months and then it hit me when I was reading. Glyphs in their own way are their own language. When I make a spell, especially a combined spell, I am making words. Watch,” Lou Ellen grabbed her battle sketchbook; it was circular with easily tearable paper. Julia had commissioned Alphonse to make it for her, as well as several additional ones to replace the old ones. Lou Ellen grabbed one of her pens and flipped open the notebook. She began to draw the spiral glyph for wind, making it the center of the spell. Then she made six teardrop shapes along the spiral outer rim. Lastly to complete the spell and with practiced ease, Lou Ellen drew the spell circle around the entire spell but stopped just before closing the circle. The daughter of Hecate looked up at Y/N, who had watched her do this in a matter of seconds with wide eyes.

“Ready?” Y/N nodded eagerly to Lou Ellen’s question, which the older girl answered with a wink and closed the circle. The daughter of Hecate pressed ink-stained fingers to the center of the spell and let her intent flow through her. 

The ink on the paper began to glow first an eerie white gleam for its wind element that began to twinge with blue for the added water. Fog began to bellow upward off of the paper to drift up into the room. Y/N looked around, fascinated by the soupy mist. Lou Ellen often used this spell as a cover; though she mainly used it for Capture the Flag. Sometimes she could change the color of the fog with different colored inks and her intent; Percy Jackson had been fond of the bright blue fog Lou Ellen had used the one time he was at camp for a visit and got to play the game.

“That’s amazing!” Y/N’s voice was filled with wonder as she watched the fog swirl around them. Lou Ellen grinned, clearly pleased with her little sister’s reaction.

“That’s only just the beginning. Watch this,” Lou Ellen circled her finger against the spell circle, continuing to flow her intent into her work. Around the sisters, the fog began to swirl in the same direction the witch was moving her finger. Y/N whipped her head around to follow the fog, stars in her eyes.

“Can you make shapes?” Lou Ellen grinned at Y/N’s question.

“I can. But it takes a bigger spell circle,” Lou Ellen finally took her finger away from the paper to release the spell. The fog slowly began to dissipate, leaving the room slightly chilled.

“The real magic is in the intention. The glyphs are your words, the spell is the sentence, and your intent is the meaning. Without intent, the glyphs are just shapes. Without the glyphs, the intent has no form. Do you understand?” Y/N thought over Lou Ellen’s words, trying to understand their meaning, before she nodded.

“I think so. The glyphs are like letters, and I put them together to make words. And the words have to mean something, or they don’t work, right?” Lou Ellen’s grin widened.

“Exactly! Do you want to try your first spell?” Y/N nodded eagerly. Lou Ellen tore out the fog spell from her battle notebook as the girl across from her sat up on her knees to watch her big sister.

“The ‘Light’ spell is the easiest, but it’s also one of the most versatile. You can use it to illuminate a room, to create a small flame, or even to blind an opponent if you’re clever enough,” Lou Ellen began to draw the new spell. A dot in the middle of the page was then surrounded by a small circle and then eight short lines like rays of sun wrapped around the middle circle and then finished it off with the final circle. Lou Ellen pressed her finger to the center of her spell to imbue her intent. A small flame came up from the paper. Lou Ellen pulled her finger away from the paper, but did not let go of her intent as she cupped the flame, forcing her focus towards the fire instead. She moved her hand around and the flame moved with her as if tethered to her palm. Lou Ellen then closed her hand, willing away her intent to extinguish the flame. The daughter of Hecate looked over at Y/N, whose mouth was agape. Lou Ellen could not help her chuckling at her little sister.

“Ready?” Y/N nodded again excitedly. Lou Ellen grabbed one of the empty sketchbooks she had available and slid it across the table. The younger girl took off her backpack and pulled out the calligraphy set Alfred had given her. Lou Ellen held up the spell she had just drawn so Y/N could copy it. The younger daughter of Hecate drew as carefully as she could with painstaking precision. It was not perfect, but it was close.

“Now, do as I did. Place a finger onto the glyph and focus. Focus on your intent. Think about what you want it to do. What sort of light you want it to become,” Y/N closed her eyes, concentrating. She could have thought about all sorts of light that was in her life that she wanted her light spell to become: about the light that filled her tower at sunset, about the warm glow of the fireplace in the library, even about the way Alfred would turn on the small lamp by Y/N’s bed before saying goodnight. But the light that she thought she wanted was from a memory with Jason, about the nights they would watch fireflies fly all around the gardens. That was what Y/N wanted. Lou Ellen watched a small will-o’-wisp of light pop up from Y/N’s spell, but then it was followed by several others forming as well, exactly like fireflies. 

“Y/N, open your eyes,” Y/N did as she was told and she found herself surrounded by the will-o’-wisps. Some were even blinking like a firefly would, but they stayed floating around their creator. With excited breath, Y/N grinned widely as she looked around at her spell. Lou Ellen could not help but smile as well.

“Okay, release your spell. Let go of what you felt, will them away,” Y/N lifted her finger away from her spell circle. She remembered Jason telling her to say good night to the fireflies so the girl could go to bed. So in her mind, Y/N said good night to her will-o’-wisps and the tiny balls of light faded away. The girl beamed over at Lou Ellen, who returned it with a wide smile.

“That was amazing for a first attempt,” For the first time in months, Y/N felt like she had control over something, that she could do something to make a difference in her own life.

“So, about your schedule,” Y/N looked up at Lou Ellen at the sound of her voice. She tilted her head curiously.

“What about my schedule?”

“I would like to include magic lessons during the week, not just the weekend like last summer. So are there any activities you would not mind dropping to do so?” Y/N thought over her usual camp schedule. She liked all of the activities she did, but there were some she was willing to drop.

“Swimming, Archery and Pegasi Riding,” Lou Ellen nodded.

“Sorry, but Archery is nonnegotiable. It’s a required activity for all demigods. Chiron wants us to always be prepared for battle even if we’re in a time of peace,” Y/N pouted a little, but then shrugged. The other activities she dropped could still happen during weekends, since those days were usually free time for the daughter of Hecate.

“Am I going to be able to do Capture the Flag this year?” Lou Ellen shook her head.

“No. Chiron wants you to progress a little more with your weapons training before he lets you loose in that game. I also want you to have a few magic tricks up your sleeve before you do that too,” Y/N nodded, accepting the answer. She would just have to annoy Clarisse a little more so the daughter of Ares will let the younger girl do more than just swing a wooden sword. A conch horn could be heard outside in the distance, making the daughters of Hecate look at each other.

“Dinner time. Come on, I heard from the harpies that there’s going to be a special dessert tonight,” Y/N grinned as she jumped off her chair. The younger daughter of Hecate took her backpack over to her bed before she waited by the front door for her sister. Lou Ellen gave Maeve a scratch under the owl’s chin before joining her sister. She held out her hand for Y/N to take.

“Hey, Y/N?” The girl looked up at her sister’s voice. Lou Ellen had a soft smile on her face as she opened the Cabin door.

“I’m proud of you, you know. For today, for everything. You’re going to do great things, I just know it,” Y/N felt her eyes sting, but this time it was not from sadness. She nodded, leaning against her big sister with a small smile on her little face.

“Thanks, Lou,”

“Any time, hon,”

XX

The days at Camp Half-Blood fell back into a comfortable rhythm. She still had the same lessons and activities like the previous summer. There were many familiar faces around the camp, but some people were missing. Josie and Connor were two people Y/N missed the most, but Sherman from Ares Cabin and Sabrine from the Aphrodite Cabin were also gone as well. There were also new people the child of Hecate met; Minho Hwa, a son of Aphrodite who took over the cooking lessons from Josie and Jubilee Radcliffe, the girl Julia had written about in her letters, who was actually Mr. D’s daughter. She was 10, had warm olive skin with freckles all over, hazel eyes and honey-blonde hair that curled wildly. When the daughter of Dionysus wasn’t following after her older brother, Pollux, she still kept to the Hermes Cabin schedule, which meant she was often in the same lessons as Y/N. After a few days of being in the same classes, Jubilee followed the daughter of Hecate to the half-pipe after dinner.

“So why does Fitz call you Baby Bat?” Y/N looked at Jubilee as she held onto her skateboard.

“I’m from Gotham,” Y/N noticed a pair of bright pink roller skates strung together and thrown over Jubilee’s shoulders.

“Oh that’s cool! I’m from DC. I’ve seen Wonder Woman a couple of times. Have you ever seen Batman?” Y/N bit her lip, wanting more than anything to nod her head, but she shook it instead.

“No. I live in the Bristol neighborhood. We don’t get a lot of villains out there so Batman isn’t seen there much,” Jubilee pouted, but she quickly recovered.

“That’s a shame. But I bet you’ve seen some of the cool stuff anyway. Your city is supposedly haunted or something,” Y/N giggled at Jubilee’s comment about her hometown.

“Or something. I did see the aftermath of Miss Poison Ivy taking over Robinson Park. She made a bunch of huge flowers that reminded me of Wonderland,” Jubilee’s eyes sparkled with excitement as the two girls got closer to the half-pipe.

“Tell me everything!”

XX

Y/N and Jubilee quickly became inseparable. The daughter of Dionysus was loud, enthusiastic, and had a dramatic flair that fit perfectly with her divine parentage, but also apparently her mortal parent as well. Her mother was Nimona Radcliffe, a semi-famous stage actress, and Jubilee eventually wanted to be like her mother. The daughter of Dionysus was going to be a year-round camper, due to her mother’s heavy schedule, so to some degree she knew almost exactly what Y/N went through with her own father. Jubilee was also fiercely loyal, and she took one look at Y/N’s quiet loneliness and decided that the other girl needed a friend and that friend was going to be her. It was the kind of friendship that happened quickly and easily, the way friendships did when you were young and the world was still full of possibilities. They spent their free time together: skateboarding and roller-skating, exploring the edges of the forest, trading stories about their families, and making up elaborate games that only they understood the rules to. The camp soon found that if you went looking for one kid, the other was always going to be nearby. For the first time since Jenny had drifted away at school, Y/N had a friend who actually saw her.

But Y/N’s true focus that summer was on magic. Lou Ellen was a patient teacher, encouraging the younger daughter of Hecate’s imagination for spells. Every day, Y/N had to try a new spell, whether it turned out right like her will-o’-wisps or really wrong like the time she first attempted a water spell and it shot off the page like a high-powered water gun and sprayed Lou Ellen completely. The older daughter of Hecate had laughed that off and immediately hugged her sister to get her wet as well before showing where the younger had gotten wrong with her spell. 

XX

The summer passed in a blur of growth and discovery. Y/N’s magical abilities expanded rapidly under Lou Ellen’s patient tutelage. She learned to form simple shields, to manipulate small objects, to create minor illusions, and even handle various elements to a novice degree. But her favorite spell was her first, her will-o’-wisp fireflies. Just like Lou Ellen could change the color of her spells with different inks, Y/N could do the same with her tiny lights. The girl often fell asleep reading as her will-o’-wisps hovered over her.

But it was not just the magic that Y/N grew in ability. Her combat skills had improved somewhat under Clarisse’s watchful eye. The daughter of Ares had finally relented and allowed Y/N to progress from a wooden sword to a blunted bronze blade. Y/N was still clumsy, still too small to properly wield the weapon, but she was determined. She practiced every day, even on the days that she did not have the sword and shield practice, with her small hands developing calluses that Alfred would definitely notice and worry over when Y/N returned home.The girl was not sure if the sword was the weapon she wanted to be her primary weapon, but Clarisse had said that figuring that out could happen when the daughter of Hecate was older. Lou Ellen had her battle notebook, but she also preferred her bow and even had arrows that had spells carved into their wood; she merely had to focus her magical intent into the arrow and let the arrow loose.

XX

But even as Y/N grew stronger, even as she made friends and learned new skills, the grief still lingered. It was a quiet companion, always present, always waiting. Sometimes, in the dead of night, Y/N would wake from a dream of Jason and lie in her bed, staring at the ceiling and wonder if she would ever feel whole again, if the hole in her heart would ever heal. These thoughts were often accompanied with tears.

Lou Ellen noticed; she always did. She would wake from her own sleep as if she knew that her sister had another bad dream and would pad over to Y/N’s bed with quiet footsteps. Her little sister always made room for her big sister, just like she would if the younger girl came over to her bed. The daughter of Hecate would lay down with Y/N and run her hand through the younger girl’s hair, humming softly until Y/N’s tears finally stopped.

“I miss him too,” Lou Ellen had whispered one night as Y/N wiped away her own tears. The girl looked curiously at her sister.

“I never met him, but I miss him. Because he was important to you, and he made you happy. And I wish I could have known him,” Y/N sniffled, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

“I think he would have liked it here. He would have gotten along with all you big kids really good,” Y/N’s voice was wobbly as the tears threatened to fall once more. Lou Ellen smiled as she pulled Y/N’s blanket over herself and got more comfortable.

“Really? What Cabin do you think would suit him most?” Y/N thought it over as she wiped at her eyes some more.

“Maybe Hermes. Though I think he used to read more than all the Athena kids do,” Lou Ellen chuckled.

“I think we both know that Fitz would have probably driven him up the wall,” Y/N giggled, but then shook her head.

“No. Jay’s favorite book was Pride and Prejudice. He would have liked the fact that Fitz named themself after Mister Darcy. I think he would have also liked the pranks they come up with and would try to use them on Dickie,” Lou Ellen laughed again, bumping her forehead against Y/N’s. The sisters were quiet for a couple of moments, before the younger girl spoke up again.

“Lou? Will it get better? The sadness?” Lou Ellen was quiet for a long moment, her fingers still carding through Y/N’s hair. The only sounds in the Cabin were Maeve’s soft hoot-like snores and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

“I think…” Lou Ellen began slowly, her voice thoughtful.

“I think it gets different. Not easier, exactly, but different. You learn to carry it with you instead of letting it carry you,” Lou Ellen shifted to look down at Y/N’s face, her neon green eyes soft in the darkness.

“Some days, it will feel like the sadness is too heavy, like you can’t breathe around it. And on those days, you have to let yourself feel it. You cry, you scream, you break things if you have to. You don’t have to be strong all the time. That’s what I’m here for, and Alfred, and even Fitz and your other friends,” Y/N pressed her face against Lou Ellen’s shoulder, her fingers curling into the fabric of the older girl’s sleep shirt.

“But other days, you’ll wake up and the sadness will be quieter. It’ll still be there, like a shadow that follows you around, but it won’t be so loud. And those are the days you hold onto, because they mean you’re healing, even if it doesn’t feel like it,” Y/N was quiet for a moment, absorbing Lou Ellen’s words. Then, in a voice so small it was almost inaudible, she whispered.

“Do you think Jay knows I still love him? Even though he’s gone?” Lou Ellen felt her heart crack a little at the question. She hugged Y/N tighter, putting her chin atop the younger girl’s head.

“Hon, I don’t know much about what happens after death. I think it’s different for everyone, mortal or not. But I do know that love doesn’t just disappear when someone dies. It’s still there, and I think…I think they can feel it. Wherever they are,” Y/N sniffled again, burying her face in Lou Ellen’s chest. She missed her Jay, she missed his voice and warm hugs, she missed that he was her hero inside and out of the cape. 

“I hope so too,” The sisters lay there in comfortable silence for a long while, the weight of the conversation settling around them like a heavy blanket. After some time, Lou Ellen heard Y/N’s breathing even out into the slow rhythm of sleep. She pressed a kiss to the top of the younger girl’s head, before she whispered into the darkness of their Cabin.

“Sleep well, little one. I’ve got you,”

XX

The summer ended too quickly, as summers always did. On the last full day of camp, Y/N sat on the dock with her feet dangling over the water, watching the sun set over the Long Island Sound. Jubilee sat beside the daughter of Hecate, her honey-blonde hair a wild mess of tangles from a day of running around the camp. The two girls had spent their last day together trying to do everything they had not gotten around to doing: a water balloon fight that soon turned into a whole camp escapade, trying each other’s skating equipment that only ended up in a trip to the Apollo Medic Tent and all other sort of things children were supposed to do at their ages. The older demigods just let the two kids be, letting them have this day to themselves, since they knew that Y/N would be headed home the next day and Jubilee would be staying at camp.

“I’m going to miss you,” Jubilee’s voice was surprisingly quiet. Y/N looked over at her friend, feeling a lump form in her throat.

“I’m going to miss you too,” It was true. After the school year of basically being alone, Y/N had someone who understood her and she understood Jubilee too.

“Promise you’ll write?” Jubilee held out her pinky. Y/N linked her pinky with the daughter of Dionysus’s.

“Promise,”

“You’ll come back next summer?”

“Try and stop me,” Jubilee grinned, her usual brightness returning.

“Good. Because I’ve got so many plans for us. The big half-pipe, joining Capture the Flag finally and I even want to try the rope obstacle course with you,” Jubilee was terrified of heights so the obstacle course and Pegasi riding were the only activities from the schedule she did not do. But she had seen how much fun Y/N had up there and thought maybe it would not be so bad if she was up there with her friend. Y/N laughed, the sound surprising her. It felt good to laugh, to feel light, even if the weight of the coming school year loomed over the girl like a storm cloud.

“Deal!”

XX

The drive back to Gotham was long and quiet. Y/N watched the familiar landscapes give way to the familiar gray of her city, her heart heavy with the weight of leaving camp behind. Poppy kept the radio volume low, letting the girl process in silence. When the station wagon finally pulled through the gates of Wayne Manor, Y/N felt a strange mix of emotions: relief at seeing home, sadness at leaving camp, and anxiety at whatever awaited her inside. Alfred was waiting on the front steps, just as he had been the year before. Y/N had barely waited for the car to stop before she launched herself out of the car and to the butler. She threw her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest.

“Alfred,” Y/N’s voice was muffled against his shirt.

“Welcome home, Young Master,” Alfred’s voice was warm, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Y/N’s head.

“I trust you had a good summer?” Y/N nodded, her eyes stinging with tears. She had learned so much, grown so much, but there was still so much she did not understand. So much that she was still waiting for.

For now, though, Y/N was home. And that was enough.

XX

A few miles away from Wayne Manor, in a mansion that was just as grand but infinitely emptier, Tim Drake sat in his room surrounded by photographs, newspaper clippings, and a conspiracy board that would have made any seasoned detective proud. His computer hummed softly in the corner, its screen displaying a paused frame from a blurry video that had been circulating the hero forums for a few months. 

At the center of Tim’s board was a single photograph: Bruce Wayne, standing outside Wayne Enterprises, his face half-turned away from the camera. But Tim knew what was underneath that expensive suit and that billionaire’s smile. He knew the truth that no one else seemed to know.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

It had taken Tim months to piece it all together. Years, really, if he counted the time he’d spent obsessing over the Caped Crusader. He even risked nights out alone in Gotham just to take photos from afar of Batman and Robin. But soon that obsession led to analyzing every detail of the heroes. The way Batman moved, the way he fought, the way he carried himself; it all soon pointed toward one man. And once Tim had that thread, everything else began to unravel.

The Evidence Board:

Center: Bruce Wayne = Batman

Photo 1: Bruce Wayne at a Wayne Enterprises charity gala, 3 years ago. A large bruise on his jaw that matched the one Batman had received during a confrontation with Killer Croc the night before.

Photo 2: Batman and the first Robin, Dick Grayson, leaping across a Gotham rooftop. The acrobatic style of this Robin matched the exact performances of the former circus performer who Bruce Wayne had adopted.

Photo 3: Batman and the second Robin, Jason Todd, standing next to the BatMobile. Tim had analyzed the angle of the photo and determined that the second Robin was approximately the same height and build as the boy Bruce Wayne had adopted after Dick Grayson moved out. The boy that died several years later at the hands of the worst of Batman’s villains.

Photo 4: Batman all alone. There was no new Robin after Jason Todd’s death. That was a problem. Tim had been monitoring Batman’s activities for over a year, and he had seen the way the vigilante had changed since losing Jason. Batman was more brutal now, more violent. His movements were sharper, less controlled and he was making mistakes.

Photo 5: Y/N Wayne, standing in the schoolyard at Gotham Academy, looking lonely. Underneath this photo was a post-it note with a question mark.

Why is she not Robin?

This was the question that haunted Tim. Bruce Wayne had a biological child. She was the right age to be trained from the beginning. She has been in the Wayne household since infancy, that was long enough to be shaped into a Robin. She has been there for years, growing up alongside Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. She would have known the secrets, should have known the truth of her family.

But Y/N was not Robin.

Tim had watched her at school, had observed her on the bus, and had even done a few nights of surveillance on the Wayne Manor grounds. Y/N was just a kid; a lonely kid who skated at the local park, who seemed to like Greek mythology, who always seemed to be reading or drawing or just staring out at the Gotham skyline as if waiting for something. Y/N did not have the build of a warrior or soldier. She did not have the scars or the bruises that came from nightly patrol. She did not have the intensity in her eyes that Tim saw in Dick Grayson’s photographs or the determined set of the jaw that Batman wore under his cowl.

Y.N was just a girl who was alone, who was clearly grieving the loss of her brother, who had been forgotten by the father who now spent all his time hunting the monster that had stolen his son.

Why was she not Robin?

Tim did not have an answer for that. Not yet. But he had other pieces of the puzzle that he was fitting together.

Photo 6: A strange station wagon driving up Wayne Manor’s drive. Tim had taken this photo through his telescope. The driver had been a man with an uneven gait. He had been dressed in cargo shorts and a bright pink t-shirt, something utterly out of place in Bristol.

Photo 7: Y/N Wayne getting into that same station wagon, a trunk in the back. Alfred Pennyworth had been standing at the front door, his hand raised in a wave. He had not seemed alarmed nor called for security. He had watched his charge drive away with a stranger without a trace of concern.

Where did Y/N go during the summers?

The question had actually been answered during the school year when Miss Guzmán had the class talk about their summers. Y/N had mentioned going to a summer camp, one that was specialized for kids with ADHD. The youngest Wayne had called it Camp Delphi and Tim had written it down because he had thought it was a strange name for a camp. When he had gotten home later that day, he had gone looking for Camp Delphi. 

It was supposedly in Long Island, New York. Its website boasted about its way of handling kids with ADHD and other learning disabilities. But what Tim found strange was the photos seemed staged, like there was something hiding along the edges. There was no social media presence; in fact the camp seemed to pride itself in being a technology-free camp. There were no reviews from parents or former campers, nor did there seem to be a way to sign up for the camp. 

Just an address and a phone number. When Tim put the address onto a map online, he found a large valley of what looked to be strawberry fields but at the center was a blurred out plot of land that looked like it had several smudges for buildings. When Tim attempted to call the number, he got a voicemail: “Thank you for calling Camp Delphi. The camp director is currently unavailable at the moment. If you have the extension for the activities director, please type that in the keypad and we shall direct your call,”.

Tim stared at his conspiracy board, his eyes tracing the connections between Bruce Wayne and Batman, between the Robins and their civilian identities, between the mysterious summer camp and the youngest Wayne. The pieces were there, but they were not fitting together.

Why are you not Robin?

Tim looked at Y/N’s photograph again, at the loneliness in her eyes, at the way she held herself like someone who had been waiting for a rescue that never came. At times, it felt like Tim was looking at a mirror instead of looking at a different kid. He thought about the way Bruce Wayne had become more and more recluse while Batman had become more violent, more ruthless, more desperate since Jason’s death.

Batman needed a Robin.

Not just as a partner, but as something more fundamental. Jason had been Robin, Dick had been Robin. They had been the anchor that kept Batman grounded, that kept him from falling into the darkness. Without a Robin, Batman was nothing but a man consumed by his own vengeance. Bruce Wayne was spiraling; he was close to losing himself entirely.

And Tim knew that if someone did not step up soon, Batman was going to do something that he could not take back. He was either going to kill the Joker or he was going to get himself killed trying. Either way, Tim could not let that happen.

Tim’s parents were never home. They were archaeologists, always traveling to remote dig sites and always leaving their son alone in the Drake Mansion with only the nanny, who showed up once a week to check on him and make sure he had not starved or burned the house down. Tim had no one looking over his shoulder. No one to tell him that what he was about to do was reckless, dangerous, and probably impossible.

Tim could train. He had access to gym equipment, to knowledge, to the resources he needed to shape himself into what was necessary. He had watched Batman and Robin for years, and had studied their movements and techniques. Tim knew he was not ready to be Robin; not yet. But he could learn. No, he would have to learn.

Tim turned back to his computer, pulling up the files he had created for his plans. It was detailed, almost obsessive in its thoroughness: training schedules, exercise regimens, nutrition plans, detective techniques, even notes on the kinds of mental conditioning he would need to survive Gotham’s streets. Tim had a long way to go. He was only nine years old, and he was not a fighter. But he was smart and determined. He was not going to let Batman destroy himself if Tim could do something about it.

Tim glanced at Y/N’s photograph one more time. He wondered if Y/N had ever felt this way: alone, desperate, willing to do whatever it took to save someone she loved. Maybe she had. Maybe she was still feeling this way as she waited for a father who would not come and grieving a brother who was never coming back. That was the tragedy of it all. Y/N had the potential to be Robin; she could have had the training with the access and her bloodline. But for some reason, she was not.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Tim’s voice was barely a whisper, even though he did not need to be quiet in his museum of a home.

“I don’t know why you’re not the one doing this. But if you can’t, then I will,” Tim stood up, squaring his shoulders. He had a long road ahead of him, one that would require sacrifice, pain and countless hours of training. But Tim will do it; for Batman, for Gotham, for the family he had been watching from afar, the family that did not even know he existed. He was going to prove that he was not just another neglected kid in Gotham, just another forgotten kid who had been left behind.

Tim Drake was going to become something more.

A/N: Soooo, how was it? When I started writing this chapter, I was originally like 'I wonder if it's obvious that one of my first ever ship was DicKori' before shrugging to continue. Also, I tried to be respectful towards Romani culture and language in this story since Dick is Rom and when I was going through a Romani language book, I found the term 'Ves'tacha'; I really hope I used it right, because the book said the term was for someone beloved (of great affection), but did not specify if it was familial or romantic. So if someone does know, please tell me if I need to correct it. Thanks for reading! I hope to update you on the next chapter soon!!!!!

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It had been some time since Kori had visited; it had been during one of the strange Earthen holidays that her friends had said she needed to experience. Dick had invited the entirety of the Teen Titans to Wayne Manor for the Giving of Thanks Festival. Only three of their friends had declined: Wally and Roy had plans with their own families while Donna was away to Themyscira. The Manor had been just as beautiful back then, lightly decorated with a fall aesthetic. Bruce had greeted the group of teens while holding his youngest child; a toddler Y/N who looked at their big brother’s strange-looking friends with big, curious eyes. But the small child was quick to warm up to everyone: giggling at Garfield’s funny faces and jokes, listening in rapt attention to Victor’s stories, having a pretend tea-party with Kori and Tara, and even begging Raven to read them a book. Kori could still remember the fond smile she had seen on Dick’s face when he saw his little sibling getting along with his friends and then a stutter in her heartbeat when she watched Dick and Y/N’s goodbye ritual: forehead-to-forehead and rubbing their noses together. When she saw this soft side of Dick, Kori knew she truly had feelings for her best friend.

Dick walked around the car and wrapped an arm around Kori’s waist. She could tell that her love was tired in a way she could not help. The dark bags under his eyes and the heaviness on his shoulders were reminiscent of the time Deathstroke tormented the former Boy Wonder. She knew that the smile on Dick’s face was merely a mask; it was feeble and trembling, threatening to turn into a frown. Kori leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her love’s cheek; the reaction was instantaneous, his smile softened just a little, making it more natural. If it were not for the fact that Dick and Kori were here for a specific reason, she would have told her love to just get back into the car and they could leave. But she wanted to see Y/N, wanting to hear all about their adventures during the summer. 

Kori had read the letters that Alfred had forwarded to Titans Tower. Dick had read a couple but every time he did, it was clear that he felt guilty; he knew he should have been there for some of those moments. But Kori knew that the fights Dick kept having with his father-figure was causing fractures in that big heart of his, making her love dread coming home. She knew that Dick had been relieved that Y/N had not been home all summer and felt horrible for feeling that way.

“Come, my love, let us see your little sibling. I am sure they will be glad to see you,” Dick’s smile softened a little more as he pressed a kiss to Kori’s forehead. He let go of her waist to take her hand as they walked forward. As they climbed the stoop stairs, one of the Manor’s large front doors opened to reveal Alfred.

“Master Dick, it’s good to see you are well. And Princess Koriand’r, it is an honor to have you grace our humble home with your presence once more,” Kori giggled as she pulled the butler into a warm hug. Alfred chuckled in good humor, giving the alien princess a squeeze of the arms. Kori let go so Dick could greet his grandfather-figure. Alfred soon stepped out of the way of the door to let the couple inside and then was quick to take at least Kori’s light jacket to reveal the purple summer dress Dick got her as one of his gifts for the anniversary of her Earth arrival.

“Have you been well, Alfred?” Kori quickly took off her shoes to place them at the nearby shoe rack as Dick did the same and Alfred was putting away the princess’s coat.

“I have. It had actually been a quiet summer with the Young Master away at their camp. Apart from Doctor Isley taking up residence at the local farmers market for a tense two days last month,” It had actually been a funny sight to see Poison Ivy standing in the middle of Bristol’s highly acclaimed Lilian Market, hosted by the Hartwell family farm; it was only a few years old and named in honor of one of the family’s grandchildren who had unfortunately passed during a Rogue attack. It had been clear that the villain was there looking for a simple reason to wreck mayhem, probably something about the local rich families using their wealth to inflate prices of their products, but Esme Hartwell, the matriarch of the family, came strolling out of her farm stall. The former doctor had been clearly confused by a woman her grandmother’s age in dirt-covered blue jeans and an oversized straw hat walking right up to the villain without a trace of fear on her aged face. Esme had then given Pamela a guided tour of the Hartwell farmland, showing off how her family had been handling their farm for generations, barely changing how things were done and how well they treated their produce and livestock. The former doctor was later seen the next day working alongside Esme at the farm stall, dressed in some of the farmer’s daughters’ clothes. When Oracle finally sent Batman towards the farmers market, the villain went willingly, but Pamela had actually gotten misty-eyed when Esme promised to come visit her at the asylum with some fresh jam and homemade baked goods for the villain and her friends; Alfred was fairly sure that Esme had just made her farmers market into a neutral zone for heroes, villains and those in between, considering he saw some of Harvey Dent’s men as well a disguised Edward Nygma browsing the wares and actually paying for their goods. 

“Babs told me about that. Is it true that Ivy was actually helping at the market?” Dick looked amused, but he honestly did not mind Pamela. She wasn’t big on hurting kids so the most she would do when Robin was out on the field was tangle the Boy Wonder up in a bunch of vines while focusing on Batman. Even when Dick changed to Nightwing, it was clear that the former doctor was torn between having to fight him or just reverting back to her usual Robin tactics.

“Master Dick, if I had not witnessed it myself, I would not have believed it either,” Alfred closed the coat closet door and started to lead the couple toward the solarium where he knew Y/N was taking their afternoon tea. The butler pretended to not notice Dick glancing towards Bruce’s rooms. Kori took the younger man’s hand once more, giving it a squeeze, before she turned back to Alfred.

“May I ask how the Titans have been doing?” Alfred watched Dick’s gaze lingering on the door to Bruce’s study before he turned back to the butler to answer the older man’s question.

“They’re doing well. Virgil and Jaime stepped up to help Kaldur lead while Brion and Artemis took up the tactician role since…” Dick trailed off, unable to speak Jason’s name out loud. The teen had not taken up the leader role like the former Robin had done, instead choosing to help with tactics and fighting techniques, which was one of Jason’s strong suits.

“What about Y/N? How are they handling…” Kori stopped, glancing over at Dick; it appeared to Alfred that the younger man had cautioned his girlfriend about saying Jason’s name aloud at the Manor. The butler did not like that the name of a boy they had all loved had become taboo. Only one person was allowed to say it and it was merely because Y/N said their nickname for Jason instead. Alfred paused, the solarium’s glass panel doors were opened just a little a few feet away from the group.

“...The young master still sometimes waits at the front door. They asked me when they returned from their camp if…if he had come home yet…” Alfred took a moment to calm his emotions, feeling the wave of sadness once more. He had been caught off guard by Y/N’s question but he had handled it with his usual tact. All the butler could say was ‘not yet’, which the child had accepted before returning to their meal; Alfred was not ashamed of the tears he let himself weep later that evening. Dick took a quick breath as if he had been punched in the gut while Kori rubbed his arm in comfort.

“...Alfred, I hate to say this but we can’t keep this lie going…It’s only going to break Y/N’s heart even worse once they realize…” Alfred glanced back at the glass panel doors.

“I know, Master Dick. It breaks my own heart when I have to lie to the Young Master, but I cannot say the words I need to say out loud. I cannot bring myself to be the one who breaks their heart,” Alfred looked back at Dick and the younger man could see that the butler was torn with his emotions.

“So what do we do?” Dick had only been a little older than Y/N when he lost his parents, but he had sort of understood the concept of death by that age. A contourist and one of the strongmen for Haly’s Circus had passed away when Dick was 6 and his parents sat him down and explained why his Zia Ylenia and Ujak Kazimir were not coming back to the circus; Kazimir’s heart finally gave out and Ylenia just never got over the heartbreak of losing the love of her life. He had been mostly devastated by the fact that death was permanent, but comforted by his parents’ faith in that death was merely another form of life; that maybe somewhere out in the universe that Ylenia and Kazimir were together once more. He felt the same about his own parents’ death after he finally accepted Bruce’s help; he hoped that his parents were still together, maybe watching him grow and find family and even love of his own.

“Given Gotham’s track record for doctors and psychiatrists, I have reached out to a contact in Metropolis to help me find a trusted child therapist. She is doing research at the moment and will get back to me shortly. She and I believe that we should wait for the new school year to start before we introduce therapy to the Young Master’s schedule,” Lois Lane had been surprised when Alfred had called but after hearing what was happening with Y/N, she agreed to help. The reporter was after all the reason why the Justice League now had a few trusted therapists added to their medical department; she had seen Clark struggle with losing civilians and Kara still dealing with the fact that she witnessed her entire planet be destroyed and put her foot down. If only Alfred had enough fire in himself to force Bruce into therapy as well, but he had found out just the other day that his access to the BatCave entrance had been revoked with his entry code no longer working.

“That…that’s a good idea…” Dick looked thoughtful, and Alfred could see where the younger man’s thoughts were going.

“If we find a reputable child psychiatrist, I will make sure their name is sent your way. I’m sure your friends and their proteges would appreciate it,” Dick let a soft smile spread across his face.

“Thanks Alfred,” The butler reached forward and gave Dick’s shoulder a squeeze.

“No matter how old you’ve gotten or how far away you move, it is still within my duty to provide you help, even if you do not ask for it. You know how much I’ve disliked how Master Bruce has been treating you lately and I understand the need to be away from him. But you are still family, Master Dick, always,” Alfred could see a shine start to appear in the younger man’s eyes and gave his shoulder another squeeze. Kori hugged Dick’s arm to her chest. The two gave the former Boy Wonder a few moments to collect himself.

“Now, let us join Young Master Y/N in the solarium. I find every moment with them brightens the day just a little more,” Dick wiped at his eyes and sniffed.

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds great,”

XX

Y/N was seated at the same table where their life had changed only a few months ago when they heard voices coming down the hallway. One of the sketchbooks Alfred had placed in their tower was open in front of the child with a couple of bottles of different colored ink. Nearby was a tea tray with Y/N’s favorite mug sitting next to a half-full teapot and a small arrangement of sweets Alfred had set out for afternoon tea. It had only been a few days since the child had returned from their camp. They had spent these past couple days either catching up with the Manor’s ghosts or trying to readjust to their civilian life that did not have as much activity that camp life had. Alfred had promised a visit to one of Gotham’s skateparks in a day or two after they went shopping for school supplies; the butler needed to see for himself that Y/N could handle themself on a skateboard before he thought about getting them one of their own.

Y/N capped their fountain pen, putting it away in the pen case Alfred had gotten them with one of their favorite cartoon characters embroidered on it as they heard voices get closer to the tea room. They quickly closed the ink bottles as well, remembering the small lecture Alfred had given them about the proper care of their new art supplies. Y/N looked over their hands taking in the sight of the ink stains adorning their skin -dark red with gold flakes, brilliant blue and electric green-, but they knew they would not have the time to properly wash their hands before the guests arrived. For a moment, the child wondered who was visiting, but then the familiar sound of Dick’s voice made Y/N’s head snap over to the doorway.

“Dickie!” Y/N closed their sketchbook before they scrambled out of their seat and raced over to the doorway. Dick kneeled down as he crossed into the solarium and held out his arms. It took a lot of his training to make sure the two siblings did not fall backwards as Y/N slammed into their big brother with a hug. Dick squeezed the child for a long moment, before picking Y/N up as he stood; neither sibling wanted to let go of the hug just yet.

“Oof, Little Wing, what did they feed you at that camp of yours? I swear you’ve gotten a little heavier than the last time I saw you,” Y/N leaned back a little in Dick’s arms, their ink-stained hands clutching onto the collar of their brother’s jacket. The vigilante could practically see stars in their eyes.

“S’mores! They’re so good. Have you had one before?” Dick could not help but laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve had some. Can’t believe you haven’t had one this whole time. I’ve failed at being a big brother,” Y/N patted Dick’s cheek as if to reassure the man.

“That’s okay, Dickie. Alfred probably wouldn’t let you give me one anyway,” Dick chuckled, knowing that Y/N was right and the butler definitely would not have let the younger man give his sibling a s’more; way too much sugar and barely anyone could keep up with a hyperactive Y/N so it was best that their sugar rushes were handled by that camp of theirs. A bell-like laugh sounded behind Dick, making Y/N lean over to look behind their big brother.

“Miss Kori!” Dick turned a little so they could see Kori and Alfred looking at the siblings fondly. Y/N began to wiggle in their brother’s arms, holding out their hands towards the alien princess. Kori let out another laugh before stepping forward to take Y/N away from Dick.

“Little One, it is so good to see you. It has been far too long. You have grown so much,” Dick smiled fondly at two of the people he loved most in the world. Y/N looked up at Kori’s emerald eyes with adoration.

“You did too, Miss Kori. Your hair is longer and fluffier!” Kori could not help the giggle at Y/N’s words; she liked those terms for her hairstyle and would definitely be using them herself.

“Now, come, Little One, you must tell me all about this camp of yours,” Y/N nodded eagerly, but then thought about something. They turned their head toward Alfred, who was picking up the tea tray to go refill the teapot.

“Wait, Alfred, the pictures! We gotta show Dickie and Miss Kori!” Y/N wiggled excitedly in Kori’s arms which tightened just a little so she would not accidentally lose her grip on the wiggling, small child.

“What photos?” Alfred’s tone sounded confused but Y/N could see the twinkle in the butler’s eye that told the child the man absolutely knew what they meant; he was merely teasing. Alfred tapped a gloved finger to his chin as he pretended to think.

“Alfred! The ones Poppy gave you,”

“Ah yes, those photos. Let me put the kettle on and collect the album I have been making,”

XX

Kori settled into the chair with Y/N seated upon her lap while Dick took the seat right next to them. The man grabbed one of the cookies on the plate that Alfred had left behind and munched on it as he took in the art supplies on the table. He furrowed his brow slightly at the ink bottles and then glanced back at Y/N’s hands that were stained.

“Did you pick up another hobby while you were away?” Y/N looked over at their big brother. They started to nod, but then remembered what Lou Ellen had told the child to say if they were asked about their supplies.

“Lou Ellen and Ramzi said calligraphy could help with getting the words to stop moving. I haven’t started on words yet, just getting used to the way the pen works. Alfred got me a bunch of pretty colors,” Dick had never heard of that method being used to help with dyslexia, but Alfred had said that the camp Y/N went to was specialized in helping kids with ADHD and other learning disabilities.

“That’s good. I hope it does help,” Y/N grinned at Dick before looking back to Kori to tell her all about Lullaby; though they referred to the Pegasus as a regular horse as per Alfred’s careful instructions. The butler reappeared with a new teapot on his tray and a photo album under his arm. Alfred set the album down in front of Dick before going about pouring everyone a new cup of tea.

“I’m still in the process of transcripting the captions the other campers had made, but I have most of the photos placed,” Dick looked at the album that had a clear title stating ‘Summer One’ in Alfred’s delicate script. He opened it to the first two photos: Y/N in what looked to be a before and after. In one photo they were wearing a too-large bright orange shirt that had a Pegasus on it, the shirt was basically a dress on the child and Y/N was holding up the excess fabric with a confused look. The next photo was Y/N in the same orange shirt but this time it was the proper size; the child was smiling while their hair was a mess with a hand still resting on the top of the child’s head. The caption read ‘There was a mix up at the camp store. They sent the largest size shirt instead of the smallest. Connor snuck in and stole the right size - Julia’.

“So who’s Connor and Julia? They’re the ones who wrote some of your letters, right?” Y/N nodded at Dick’s question as they set the tea cup back down.

“They were my cabin counsels. They were in charge,” Y/N most likely meant counselors, but Dick gave his sibling a smile as he turned the next page. They slowly went through the available photos while Y/N described what was going on and Kori and Dick asked questions. But then the former Boy Wonder froze as he stared at one photo. There was a tall black-haired boy kneeling in front of Y/N with paint in his hands; the boy was very carefully painting a neon green domino mask onto Y/N’s face with some streaks of yellow and dots of red along the mask. Dick felt like his heart had frozen over, because for a moment, he did not see a stranger, instead he thought he could see Jason being the one to paint Robin’s domino mask onto Y/N. The vigilante could hear his little sibling saying something next to him, but he was not registering the words.

“My love?” Kori placed a warm hand on Dick’s forearm, making him jolt and the whole table looked at him with concern. The man blinked rapidly in an attempt to dislodge the false memory and then took a deep breath before looking toward his girlfriend and his little sibling. He forced a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“I’m fine…I’m fine…” It was clear that Dick was trying to reassure himself instead of his loved ones. But his eyes drifted back to the photo; he still could not shake away the fake image of Jason. The boy in the photo had a scar down his face and across his nose that was almost too familiar; Dick had seen what the Joker had done while he was torturing Robin, the jagged ‘J’ had been cut across Jason’s face and forced them to have a closed-casket funeral since no one could handle staring at that mark. Dick could feel tears welling up in his eyes so he stood up from his chair.

“Sorry…I need a moment,”

XX

Kori watched Dick leave the solarium as she glanced back at the photo that had clearly rattled him. Under the photo was another caption in Alfred’s handwriting: ‘Sherman couldn’t say no to Y/N’s little face. I’m going to weaponize this - Connor’. The alien princess wondered what exactly about the photo had sent Dick into a near panic attack, but then she herself could see a similarity to Jason Todd in the teen in the photo; the main difference was that this ‘Sherman’ was a little lighter in color than Jason and it was clear he had brown eyes. Y/N looked up at Kori with worried eyes, one of their small hands reaching up to gently touch the alien princess’s cheek.

“Is Dickie okay? Is he sad?” Kori’s heart clenched at the question. She brought up one of her hands to cover Y/N’s.

“He will be alright, Little One. He simply needs a moment to feel his feelings,” Y/N nodded, not entirely understanding but accepting the explanation. The child took their hand away from Kori’s face and leaned against her chest in an attempt for some comfort. The alien princess wrapped Y/N in a gentle hug.

“Maybe when Jay comes back, everyone can feel better again,” Kori could feel her heart breaking at Y/N’s words. She did not know what to say to the child so she simply gave them another squeeze. Alfred was sat across from Kori and she could see that what Y/N had said had devastated the older man.

XX

Dick had not meant to walk to Bruce’s study. His feet had simply carried him there while his mind was still trapped in the false memory of Jason painting a Robin mask onto Y/N’s face. The study was empty with stacks of paperwork and even a tray of covered food left abandoned on the desk. Dick walked over to the grandfather clock, shivering at the usual cold spot in front of it. He pulled the secret lever that revealed the keypad and typed in his access code. The wall behind the grandfather clock pushed away, revealing the elevator door for the BatCave.

Dick could barely recognize the man looking back at him in the reflection of metal doors. His tanned skin was pale with dark bags under his eyes. There were a couple of stress pimples peeking out that he knew that Kori was eventually going to force a facemask on him to take care of it. His hair is shaggy and overgrown, covering his eyes and neck, but he could not for the life of him bring himself to ask Alfred or even Gar or Victor to trim it for him. These were just the consequences of his own guilt so he forced himself to bear with them. Dick had known he had been an asshole to Jason while the younger boy was Robin. He had known that all Jason wanted was for them to be like brothers, to be close, but Dick just needed to find who he wanted to be on his own. So he pushed away everyone, even Kori and Y/N, and by the time he felt like he was finally comfortable in his name and skin again, it was too late. Jason was taken by the Joker, Bruce became a man consumed by vengeance, and Y/N was just a reminder that Dick had failed as an older brother. 

After what felt like hours, but was only mere minutes, the elevator doors opened to reveal the extensive BatCave. The dinosaur animatonic was the first thing to greet Dick before the symphony of bat screeches above him started up. The former Boy Wonder could see that the BatMobile was still here so he made his way over to the BatComputer console. It was there that Dick found Bruce; he had his suit on but his cowl was still off. 

Bruce’s head was bowed over the keyboard, his fingers flying across the keys with a speed that spoke of desperation rather than efficiency. The glow of multiple monitors cast harsh shadows across the man’s face, illuminating the gaunt hollows of his cheeks and the tension in his jaw. On one of the screens, Dick could make out several different maps layered over each other as if they were trying to find the same variable. Another held a list of people with many of the names already crossed out.

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice was flat, devoid of the warmth that used to fill it when Dick was just a boy learning to be Robin. He did not turn from the screen, his eyes fixed on the report he had been typing.

“Bruce,” Dick’s voice was equally flat, a mirror of the man who raised him. The two vigilantes stood in silence for a long moment, the only sounds being the distant dripping of water and bat screeches.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Bruce still did not turn around. He instead closed the report he was typing to open up a new file filled with photos of various hide-outs. His father’s words start to fan the flames of anger in Dick’s chest. The guilt that he felt earlier helped fester that anger into something uglier.

“Really? That’s all you have to say to me? I come home after months away, and you won’t even look at me before you send me away?” Dick stepped closer, his hands clenching at his sides.

“I’m busy,”

“Busy,” Dick laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Busy doing what? Chasing another lead that goes nowhere? Running yourself into the ground while the rest of us are left to pick up the pieces?” Bruce finally turned, and Dick felt his breath catch. His father’s face was gaunt, his eyes sunken and ringed with dark circles, and stubble on his chin was almost a beard. 

“What do you want, Dick?”

“I want you to stop this. I want you to come upstairs and have dinner with your family. I want you to spend time with Y/N before they forget what you look like,” Dick’s voice cracked slightly.

“Bruce, they still think Jason is coming back. They wait for him at the front door. They keep asking Alfred when their brother is going to come home,” Something flickered in Bruce’s eyes -pain, grief, guilt- before it was quickly smothered by the mask he wore when the cowl came on.

“That’s not my problem,” Dick felt something in his chest snap.

“Not your problem? Y/N is your child! How can you say that? How can you hear that they don’t understand what’s going on and think it’s not your problem?!” Dick’s voice rose.

“Because I can’t fix it!” Bruce slammed his hand against the console, making one of the nearby screens flicker.

“I can’t bring him back! I can’t make this better! The only thing I can do is make sure the monster who did this pays for what he took from us!”

“And what about Y/N?! What about what the Joker took from them?!” Dick was shouting now, his composure finally shattering.

“Jason was their life! He was the one who walked them to their first day of kindergarten. He was the one who read to them every night. He was their everything while they were his! Y/N is seven, Bruce. Seven! And they don’t even know that their life will never be the same again,” The words hung in the cavernous space of the BatCave, echoing off the stone walls. Bruce’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, but he said nothing. He just stood there, still as a statue, and his blue eyes glittering with something that might have been pain or might have been anger.

“You want to know what the worst part is?” Dick’s voice dropped to something quieter, but more dangerous.

“I was just upstairs, looking at photos from Y/N’s summer. They were so happy, Bruce. They were laughing, making friends, learning new things. And I realized that I haven’t seen them that happy in almost a year. Not since Jason was still here. Then, they come home and they have nothing. No brothers, no father, none of the warmth that filled this house since they were left on our doorstep. And what hurts the most is that they know. Y/N knows that something is wrong, but no one has the guts to tell them. We’re nothing but a bunch of cowards,” The silence that followed Dick’s words were deafening. Bruce’s face had gone completely still, but his eyes were raging. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, dangerous growl; the same voice he would use as Batman.

“How dare you,”

“How dare I what, Bruce? Tell you the truth? How dare I remind you that you have a child upstairs who still believes in you? That’s the real tragedy here. Not that Jason died, but that you’re letting his death destroy the family he loved,” Bruce moved so fast Dick barely had time to register it. One moment he was standing several feet away, the next he had Dick by the collar of his jacket, slamming him against the cold stone wall of the Cave. Dick’s head cracked against the rock and he saw stars for a moment.

“You don’t get to lecture me about family,” Bruce’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was filled with a venom Dick had never heard from the man before.

“You left. You walked out. You could not stand to be in the same house as me, so you ran off to Blüdhaven and pretended that was enough. And you want to talk to me about abandonment?” Dick shoved back, breaking out of Bruce’s grip with a speed that surprised them both. He rubbed the back of his head where a lump was already forming, but his eyes never left Bruce’s.

“Because you pushed me away! You pushed everyone away! That’s what you do when things get hard, isn’t it? You isolate yourself, you bury yourself in the work, and you refuse to let anyone in. I learned it from the best,” Dick knew his words weren’t hitting Bruce as well as the younger man wanted. So when he caught sight of Jason’s Robin uniform encased in a glass display box, he knew what he wanted to say next.

“I left because you made me feel like I wasn’t enough. You took Robin away from me. So I tried to become someone you’d be proud of. Jason left because he struggled to be the perfect little soldier you wanted him to be. We will never be good enough for you!” Bruce’s fist connected with Dick’s jaw before either of them could think. Dick stumbled back, more stunned than hurt. The former Boy Wonder pressed a hand where his father-figure just hit. Bruce looked stunned at himself, but he did not apologize.

“Get out,” Bruce’s voice was a low, trembling thing, barely controlled. Dick could feel the warmth of blood trickling from his split lip and he knew he and Bruce both had gone too far. But he could not leave, not without saying one more thing.

“Fine. I’ll go. But you should know,” Dick wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving Bruce’s.

“You’re not just losing me. You’re losing Y/N too. And one day, when you finally come back for air, they may not be there waiting for you. They may stop believing in you and who you think you are when you wear the cowl,” Dick turned and walked toward the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. He paused at the entrance, not looking back at Bruce.

“I hope the Joker is worth it, Bruce. You’re not the man who raised me, I don’t think I even know you anymore,” The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off whatever Bruce might have said in response.

XX

Bruce stared at the closed elevator doors for a long moment, before he looked down at his own hands. On the BatComputer, Oracle’s icon popped up before her voice came over the comm piece in the hero’s ear.

“B? I’m sending you a location on a lead now. It’s an abandoned fun-house on Amusement Mile. A few sources say Joker’s been spotted nearby,” Bruce reached for the comm to answer.

“Copy. I’m on my way out,” Bruce pulled on his cowl, the familiar weight settling over his head like a shroud. As he walked over to the BatMobile, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny surface of the vehicle. For a moment, Bruce did not recognize the man staring back at him.

“They still think Jason is coming back. They wait for him at the front door. They keep asking Alfred when their brother is going to come home,” Bruce closed his eyes and tried to not let that image of his youngest child haunt him. Y/N will understand when they’re older why Bruce did this, why he went to such great lengths to hunt down the monster that took Jason away from them. Dick was wrong, Bruce tried to make himself believe, but he did not think he could lie to himself either.

XX

Kori was waiting for Dick in the foyer when the grandfather clock closed its secret door behind him. The look on her face told the man she had known he had argued with Bruce again. She did not say anything, just walked forward and wrapped her arms around him. Dick tucked his face against her neck as he wrapped his own arms around his girlfriend, taking the amber-vanilla scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her golden skin. He did everything he could to not focus on the overwhelming wave of sadness threatening to consume him. Kori said nothing about the fact that her shoulder was getting wet.

“I love you,” Dick hugged Kori tighter at her whisper.

“I love you too,” The couple held onto each other for another moment longer, before Dick finally pulled away. He rubbed at his eyes, before he looked at his girlfriend guiltily. 

“I can’t stay here. I can’t be in this house,” Kori placed a gentle hand on Dick’s bruised cheek, her emerald eyes searching his face.

“What about Y/N?” Dick’s heart clenched. He shook his head.

“I can’t say goodbye to them. If I see their face, I’ll stay. But I can’t stay. I can’t be here anymore, Kori,” The alien princess studied her love for a long moment, and then nodded.

“I understand. Go to the car. I will say goodbye to Y/N and Alfred. I will explain that we have an emergency with the Titans. I will be quick,” Dick wanted to argue, wanted to tell Kori that he really should be the one to say goodbye, but he couldn’t. If the vigilante went back into the solarium, if he saw Y/N’s trusting little face staring at him with love in those beautiful eyes, Dick would break. So he nodded, pressed a kiss to Kori’s cheek, and walked out the front door. The alien princess watched him go, her heart heavy. Then she turned, squared her shoulders, and walked back down the hallway leading to the solarium.

Y/N was sitting at the table again, their sketchbook open in front of them and their ink-stained fingers carefully drawing a symbol that looked like a spiral. Alfred was nearby, clearing away the tea things, but Kori could see the worry etched into the old butler’s face.

“Little One,” Kori’s voice was soft as she kneeled beside the child. Y/N looked up, their big eyes searching the princess’s face. The child tilted their head at her as if they could see Kori’s conflicted emotions.

“Where’s Dickie?” Kori reached forward, and caressed Y/N’s cheek, smiling softly as they leaned into her touch.

“Your brother and I need to go. There is an emergency with our team. He asked me to tell you that he loves you very much, and that he will call you soon,” Kori hated the lie, but it was a mercy compared to the truth. Y/N’s face fell for a moment, then brightened again.

“Like a superhero emergency?” Y/N’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Are you going to save someone? Is Miss Raven going to use her magic? Is Mister Gar gonna turn into a tiger again?” Kori could not help but smile at the child’s excitement.

“I am sure there will be many heroic deeds tonight. Now, I promise you that I will make sure your brother calls you sometime soon. But if you do need him, Alfred does know the numbers for Dick, myself and the Tower,” Both Kori and Y/N glanced over at the butler, who gave them a nod. The child looked back at the alien princess.

“Miss Kori?”

“Yes, Little One?”

“Could you give Dickie a hug for me?” Kori felt her heart melt at Y/N’s words.

“Of course I will,” Y/N leaned forward to wrap their arms around Kori’s neck, who immediately wrapped her own arms around the child. And then Kori felt it.

It was subtle, barely there; a faint hum beneath the surface of the child’s skin, like a distant melody playing just out of reach. Kori’s breath caught in her throat. She had felt something similar only once before, in the presence of her dearest friend. Raven’s soul had always sung with a dark, ancient harmony; a byproduct of the demonic power that flowed through her veins. But this was different with Y/N; it was softer, younger, more tentative, like a song that was still searching for its notes, still learning what it wanted to become.

But it was magic. Undeniably, unmistakably magic. Kori had spent enough time on Earth to recognize the signs. She had fought alongside sorcerers and mystics, and had witnessed the way magic coiled beneath the skin of those who wielded it. Y/N’s song was barely a whisper, fragile as thread, but it was there; a melody woven into the very fabric of Y/N’s soul, waiting to be sung. The alien princess held the child for a moment longer than she had intended, her arms tightening almost imperceptibly. She could feel the faint thrum of potential beneath her fingertips, a power that was only just beginning to stir. Whatever Y/N was becoming, whatever magic was awakening within them, it would change everything. It would change them.

Kori did not know what it meant. She did not know if it was a blessing or a curse, if it was something to be nurtured or feared. But she knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that Y/N was no ordinary child; they never had been. The loneliness that clung to them, the way they saw things others could not, the strange summer camp, the ink-stained fingers, the quiet intensity in their gaze; it all made a terrible, beautiful kind of sense.

Y/N Wayne was magic. And one day that magic would reshape their family in ways none of them could predict. Kori pulled back slowly, her emerald eyes searching Y/N’s face. The child looked up at her with innocent curiosity, utterly unaware of what they carried within them. Kori’s heart ached with a fierce, protective love.

“Little One,” Kori’s voice was softer now, almost reverent. Y/N tilted their head, waiting.

“Yes, Miss Kori?” Kori opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say? I felt the magic sleeping inside you? I know you are more than you appear? I am afraid for you and I am afraid for everyone who loves you? None of it would help. None of it would make sense to a child who was still discovering who they were. Instead, Kori leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, letting her lips linger for just a moment longer than usual. She could still feel the faint hum of power against her skin, a warmth that had nothing to do with body heat.

“You are loved, Y/N Wayne. Never forget that,”

XX

The car ride back to Blüdhaven was silent. Dick stared out the window at the passing Gotham skyline, his jaw clenched. Kori drove, her gaze occasionally flickering to her love’s face, but she said nothing. She knew better than to press when he was like this. The sun had fully set by the time they crossed the bridge into Blüdhaven. Dick finally spoke up when they stopped at a red light, his voice hoarse.

“He hit me, Kori,” The princess’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She had seen the bruise starting to form on his jaw, had felt the tension radiating from him, but hearing him say it out loud made something cold settle in her chest.

“I know, my love,”

“He’s never…he’s never done that before. Not to me. Not to anyone he considered family,” Dick’s voice cracked a little.

“I don’t know who that man was down there. That wasn’t Bruce,” Kori reached over and took his hand, her thumb tracing soothing circles across his trembling knuckles.

“Grief can transform even the kindest souls into strangers. But that does not excuse what he did. You did not deserve that,” The light turned green, but Kori did not move. She turned to face Dick fully, her emerald eyes glowing softly in the dim light of the car.

“You are not responsible for his choices, my love. You cannot save someone who does not wish to be saved,” Dick laughed bitterly.

“Then what am I supposed to do? Just give up on him? Despite what he did, he’s still my dad,” Kori squeezed Dick’s hand.

“I know. But you are allowed to protect yourself. Give him space. Eventually he will see the light, but if he can’t, you have to protect Y/N. Because right now, you are the only one who can,” The words hung in the air between them. Dick’s stoic expression started to crumble, and his eyes began to shine with tears. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Kori’s, and let out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know how to do this alone,”

“You are not alone, Richard Grayson. You have me. You have our friends. And you have Y/N, who loves you like you personally hung the moon for them. We will find a way through this. Together,” They sat there for a long moment, forehead to forehead, breathing in sync. Finally, Dick pulled back, his eyes red-rimmed but his expression steadier.

“Let’s go home,” Kori smiled softly and put the car back into drive.

XX

Y/N stood at the large windows by the front door, watching their brother’s car disappear down the long drive. They pressed their small hand against the glass, feeling the cool surface beneath their ink-stained fingers.

“Miss Kori said Dickie would call,” Y/N’s voice was just above a whisper. They could feel Alfred’s presence behind them, steady and warm as always.

“I have no doubt she will make sure of it, Young Master,” Alfred’s voice was gentle, the same tone he used when Y/N was sad and he did not want to push. Y/N finally turned away from the window, their expression thoughtful.

“Dickie was sad. Really sad. Even when he was smiling, his eyes were sad,” Y/N looked down at their hands.

“Do you think if I got really good at magic, I could make him feel better?” Alfred’s expression flickered with a mixture of something complicated: love, worry, and a deep, abiding sadness.

“Master Dick’s sadness is not something that can be fixed with magic, my dear. It is something he must work through on his own. But you being here, being you, does help. More than you know,” Y/N nodded slowly, accepting the answer even if they did not fully understand it.

“Now, I believe I am in need of some assistance with making dinner. Let us test your knowledge of the herbs that you learned over the summer, shall we?”

XX

Gotham Academy loomed before Y/N like a gothic cathedral made of dark stone and stained glass windows. The building was beautiful in a cold, imposing sort of way, its tall windows reflecting the gray sky above. Students milled about the front courtyard, catching up on others’ summers or bemoaning the fact that school is starting again. Y/N stepped out of the Bristol charter bus and immediately tried to blend into the crowd. They spotted their friend, Jenny Hickory, near the front steps, surrounded by a small group of other children. The red-haired girl waved enthusiastically when she saw the youngest Wayne, and Y/N waved back, a small smile tugging at their lips.

“Y/N! Over here!” The child of Hecate made their way through the crowd, weaving between older students with practiced ease. Jenny threw her arms around Y/N in a tight hug.

“I missed you over the summer! Did you have fun at your camp?” Y/N nodded, their smile growing.

“It was so fun. I learned how to ride a skateboard and make–”

“Hey, Jenny! Miss Noonan is already calling for our class!” One of the other girls tugged on Jenny’s sleeve, pulling her away. The red-haired girl gave Y/N an apologetic look.

“I’ll see you at lunch. We can sit together,” Y/N nodded, watching as Jenny was swept away by the crowd. For a moment, the child of Hecate stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by children who did not seem to notice them at all. It was strange, this invisibility. It was as if the other students were looking right through them. Y/N wondered if this was how the ghosts back at the Manor felt when someone living walked right through them.

XX

The second grade classroom at Gotham Academy was bright and welcoming, with posters of the solar system, a reading corner with colorful cushions, and a large world map taking up an entire wall that even had superhero logos next to the cities those heroes operated out of. Y/N stood in the doorway, their new backpack -one that Alfred had purchased during their school supplies trip with patches of an owl and a skateboard properly stitched on and straps for a skateboard attached- felt heavy against the child’s back. 

Miss Luisa Guzmán was exactly as the note from Miss Dahl had described: warm, patient, and genuinely excited to meet her new students. She had dark curly hair pulled back in a low bun, kind brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She wore a bright yellow cardigan that reminded Y/N of sunflowers over a light blue dress. When she spotted Y/N hovering in the doorway, she immediately crouched down to their level.

“Y/N Wayne! I’ve heard so much about you,” Miss Guzmán’s voice was soft and melodic.

“Miss Dahl told me about your special interest in Greek myths. I think you’re going to have a lot of fun with a segment of our lessons in history this year,” Y/N’s eyes went wide and they offered their new teacher a small smile.

“Thank you, Miss Guzmán,”

“Why don’t you find a seat? Any one you like. We’ll be starting our morning lessons in just a few minutes,” Y/N scanned the classroom. There were about twenty desks arranged in clusters of four. Most of them were already occupied by chattering children, some familiar faces from last year. Y/N found an empty desk near the windows, the cluster of desks it was a part of had only one other kid seated. The boy did not look up as Y/N sat down and began to put their school supplies on the desk.

XX

The first few weeks of second grade passed quickly for Y/N. Miss Guzmán was everything Miss Dahl had promised: patient, understanding, and always willing to make accommodations. She gave Y/N extra time on reading assignments, allowed them to use colored overlays to help the words stay still, and never made them feel bad for needing to move around during lessons. When the child started to feel overwhelmed, Miss Guzmán would simply nod toward the back of the classroom where there was a small sensory corner with fidget toys, noise-cancelling headphones, and cozy beanbag chairs. Y/N was grateful for their new teacher’s kindness, and was not the only student in the class to take comfort in the sensory corner.

But Jenny was no longer in Y/N’s class. The red-haired girl had been placed in Miss Noonan’s class across the hall, and while the two friends still saw each other at lunch and recess, it was not the same. Y/N could see Jenny making new friends, laughing with other children and even joined the school’s equestrian club. Y/N’s only friend had drifted away. The child of Hecate tried to not let it hurt, but it did. It felt like another person leaving, another connection slipping through their fingers.

The other students in Y/N’s class seemed to look right through them. It had to be the necklace, Y/N realized. Lou Ellen had explained that the notice-me-not spell would work on mortals as well, to make them not quite pay attention to Y/N, but this was different. It was like the other children did not even register Y/N’s existence. They would sit at their desk, raise their hand to answer a question, and the teacher would call on someone else. They would try to join a group activity, and the other children would simply forget to include them. At lunch, Y/N would sit at an empty table, watching the other kids laugh and play, feeling like a ghost in their own life.

It was lonely. So very lonely.

But there seemed to be another kid in the same shoes as Y/N. Tim Drake sat in the same cluster of desks as the child of Hecate. His black hair always fell into his eyes and cut in a straight fringe like the rest of his hair. His gray-blue eyes always seemed to be watching everything with a deep intensity that other kids called weird but Y/N found comfort in. Tim never spoke much in class -Y/N had heard Miss Guzmán try to gently encourage the boy to participate more- but when he did speak, it was always thoughtful, almost as if he had been carefully weighing every word before letting them leave his lips. Outside at recess, Tim did not play with the other kids either. Instead, he took photos with a camera that looked too expensive for a kid his age should have. Y/N would watch the boy from their lonely spot on the swings and wonder what Tim was taking pictures of.

Y/N remembered Tim being in Mister Landry’s class the previous year, and he had been one of the only kids to not laugh when the teacher decided to call the youngest Wayne stupid in front of the whole class. He was quiet and alone then too. Tim lived in Bristol, like Y/N. His family’s estate was just down the road from Wayne Manor. They saw each other on the charter bus most mornings. Y/N usually watched the world go by through the bus windows while Tim read books that looked far too advanced for his age. Sometimes though, the lonely children would say ‘good morning’ or even spare a smile to the other.

XX

The first week of October arrived with the typical Gotham dreariness: gray skies, persistent drizzle, and leaves that rotted on the ground rather than crunching underfoot. Y/N sat in the back of the town car Alfred was driving; he had picked them up from school instead of letting them take the charter bus home. But the butler did not take the usual streets Y/N knew led back to the Manor. Instead, the child of Hecate found Alfred had gotten on the bridge that would take them across the bay over to Metropolis.

“Where are we going, Alfred?” Y/N peered out at the dark waters of the bay. They have never been to Metropolis before, but did remember that Mister Clark and Miss Lois worked over there. They have not seen the couple in a long time and wondered how the two were doing.

“We are going to meet someone, Young Master. Her name is Doctor Shiloh Blackwood. She is a specialist who helps children navigate difficult emotions,” Alfred kept his voice carefully neutral. Y/N furrowed their brow.

“Difficult emotions? Like what?”

“Like sadness or confusion. Like the feeling of missing someone who isn’t there?” Y/N was quiet for a long moment, their small hand playing with the chain of the necklace their mother had given them.

“Is this about Jay?” Alfred’s grip on the steering wheel tightened while he chanced a glance of Y/N through the rearview mirror. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that no words came. It was apparent that his charge found that his silence was an answer itself since Alfred noticed the child nodding.

XX

Doctor Shiloh Blackwood’s office was in the quiet part of Metropolis, tucked away on a tree-lined street that felt almost peaceful compared to the chaos of Gotham. The brownstone Alfred parked in front of had a bright blue door and planters in almost every window. Y/N followed the butler into the first floor office and took in the details of the waiting room. The walls were painted a soft green with comfortable-looking armchairs. There was a bookshelf that had a mixture of children's and young adult fiction as well as local magazines and newspapers; Alfred took one of the Daily Planet’s before he sat on one of the armchairs. In one corner, there was a toy chest but a stuffed fox looked like it had fallen out. Y/N walked over to pick up the fox and stared into its button eyes.

“That’s a good choice,” A soft voice made Y/N look away from the fox. They found a woman standing by the previously closed glass doors. She was very tall with silver hair and hazel eyes. She wore a pale pink cardigan over a blouse and slacks. When the woman noticed Y/N’s surprise, she gave the child a soft smile.

“You must be Y/N Wayne,” The child nodded shyly, clutching the fox to their chest.

“Well then, hello Y/N. My name is Doctor Shiloh Blackwood, but you can call me Shiloh if you’d like. I’ve heard a lot about you from Alfred,” Y/N glanced over at their butler, who gave his young charge a nod. Shiloh stepped out of the way of the door, revealing her office behind her.

“Why don’t you come in and we can get to know each other? You can bring your new friend, if you wish,” Alfred gave Y/N another reassuring smile and the child walked into the office area. They tried not to panic as Shiloh closed the door behind them. The doctor pulled back the curtain that was covering the glass door to give Y/N the view of the waiting room.

“I need to keep the door closed for your session. But I don’t mind keeping the curtain pulled back,” Y/N looked up at Shiloh before glancing back at Alfred. The child waved at him through the window and got one in return. Shiloh walked over to an egg-shaped chair and sat down, grabbing a notebook from the end table next to it. Y/N took in the details of this room as well. There were a few other seat options to choose from: another egg-shaped one, one that was almost like the armchair in front of the fireplace back at the Manor, and even a rainbow-colored beanbag chair. With their new fox friend in hand, Y/N sat down as neatly as they could on the beanbag. For a moment, the doctor and patient stared at each other.

“So did Alfred tell you why you’re here today?” Y/N shook their head as they looked down at the fox.

“He said you help kids who are sad,” Shiloh smiled.

“That’s one way to put it. I help children understand their feelings. Sometimes feelings can be big and confusing, even for us adults, and it’s nice to have someone to talk about them.” 

XX

The therapy sessions became a regular part of Y/N’s routine. Every week, Alfred would drive them across the bay to Metropolis, and Y/N would sit in Shiloh’s office and talk. At first, the child of Hecate did not know what to say. They would clutch the fox, which they named Finnick after a character in one of the books Jay had read aloud, and stare at the colorful rug beneath their feet while Shiloh asked gentle questions about their week, their friends, their school, their family. Slowly, hesitantly, Y/N began to open up.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m invisible,” Y/N admitted during their third session. They were sitting cross-legged on the beanbag chair, Finnick in their lap, their small fingers tracing the stitching on his face.

“Invisible?” Shiloh’s voice was curious, not judgmental. Y/N nodded, but did not look away from Finnick.

“At school. The other kids don’t see me. They look right through me, like I’m not even there,” Y/N glanced up from Finnick to Shiloh, who was writing something down in her notebook.

“Jenny doesn’t sit with me anymore. She has new friends now. And when I try to play with the other kids, they forget I’m there. It’s like I’m a ghost,” Shiloh nodded, her expression thoughtful.

“That sounds very lonely,” Y/N nodded, their eyes stinging with tears they refused to let fall. They buried their face against Finnick’s felt body.

“It is. But it’s not like that at camp. At camp, everyone sees me. They talk to me and play with me and…and I’m not invisible there,” Y/N did not see Shiloh making another note.

“Tell me more about camp. What makes it different?” Y/N thought about it. They thought about Lou Ellen and Maeve, about Connor and Julia and Fitz, about Josie and Sienna and Clarisse. They thought about the campfire songs and the strawberry fields and the way the other campers made Y/N feel welcomed. They thought about the feeling of belonging, of being seen and being loved for who they were instead of what their last name meant.

“Everyone there is like me. Well, not exactly like me. But they understand. They don’t think I’m weird for having trouble with words or reading, or for needing to move around a lot. And they don’t look through me. They look at me,”

“Like your family?” Y/N’s expression flickered. They looked back down at Finnick.

“Sometimes. Alfred looks at me. Dickie used to, but he’s sad now. And Pa…” Y/N trailed off, their voice growing small.

“Pa doesn’t look at me anymore. Not really. He’s too busy looking for the monster,” Y/N did not mean to say that. The words had just slipped out. Shiloh’s pen paused over her notebook while Y/N glanced out the window doors toward the waiting room where Alfred was waiting, looking panicked.

“The monster?” Y/N bit their lip. They knew they had said too much and broken the rules that their family had almost cemented into the child’s mind. But Shiloh’s voice was soft and gentle, like Alfred’s when he was trying to coax them out of a bad mood.

“Y/N, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I won’t be upset. And I won’t tell anyone unless you’re in danger. This is a safe space,” Y/N looked back over at Shiloh. The doctor’s hazel eyes were warm and patient. Y/N wanted to trust her.

“I can’t tell you about the monster. It’s a secret,” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper. Shiloh nodded, making another note in her notebook.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. But if you ever want to, I’m here,” Y/N nodded, relief flooding through them as they hugged Finnick to their chest. For the rest of the session, they talked about camp, about the older kids at the local skatepark who were quick to take Y/N under their wing, about the new books Alfred had ordered for them from the demigod contact. By the time the child made it back to the butler in the waiting room, they felt lighter than they had before.

XX

As the weeks passed, Y/N found small moments of joy wherever they could. Skateboarding had become their escape. On the weekends, Alfred would drive the child to one of the local skateparks and watch as Y/N practiced the moves Fitz had taught them. The skatepark in Bristol was not well populated with only a few kids that Y/N recognized from galas, but there were a couple of older kids that seemed to look out for the younger ones. For the first couple of visits, the youngest Wayne had to rent a skateboard from the entrance hut.

Alfred had eventually kept his promise and bought Y/N their own skateboard: a beautiful piece of craftsmanship with a dark wood deck and custom paint job in their favorite color with a swarm of bats and birds flying right next to each other. Y/N had cried when they saw it, throwing their arms around the butler and holding tight. The older kids at the skate park had celebrated when the child came with their new board.

“Thank you, Alfred. Thank you, thank you, thank you,”

“You are most welcome, Young Master. Though I must insist on a full set of protective gear, no matter your demigod nature. Helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards. Non-negotiable,” Y/N had agreed enthusiastically, and Alfred had smiled that rare, warm smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

XX

After the first couple of sessions, which Shiloh considered the getting-to-know-you visits, the therapist began to ask Y/N questions as a sort of homework; something for the child to think about until their next visit. Sometimes they felt simple, like ‘what do you do after you have a nightmare?’ or ‘what would you change at school if given the chance?’. Y/N knew the answers for those: Alfred would make the same warm honey milk that Camp Half-Blood had sent the recipe to the butler and the child would curl up in the library in one of Jason’s hoodies and no more mean teachers.

But it was the questions like ‘what does safe mean to you?’ or even ‘who in your life do you want to be most like when you grow up?’ left Y/N stumped for those two week periods between sessions. The child would go to Alfred to get a better idea on the word ‘safe’. To Y/N, safe meant Dickie’s warm hugs, Alfred’s rare smiles, and when they used to curl up against Jason as he read aloud. But it also meant looking out at the Gotham sky and seeing the bat signal since that meant Batman was out keeping their city safe.

In the middle of December, Shiloh asked a question that made Y/N feel frozen like the snow outside.

“What do you know about death?” Y/N looked up from Finnick in their lap at the therapist.

“Death?” Shiloh nodded, as she made a note in her notebook.

“Yes. That is your homework question for this session. When you come back, I want to know what you know about death and what it means,” Shiloh closed her notebook and stood from her egg chair. Y/N stood up too, still clinging to Finnick.

“Like always, you can ask Alfred and even your brother Dickie about the topic, but make sure you make your own conclusion on what you think death is. Alright?” Y/N nodded, and they held up Finnick for Shiloh to take back like they always did at the end of their sessions.

“How about you take Finnick home with you? Think of him as an early Christmas gift,” Y/N hugged the felt fox to their chest, smiling softly against his faux fur.

“Thank you, Miss Shiloh,” The therapist winked at Y/N before she opened the glass door to the waiting room, where Alfred was waiting.

“See you after the holidays,”

XX

Y/N thought over the word ‘death’ during the car trip home and even during dinner. It was during dessert that the child finally spoke up.

“Alfred, what is death?” The butler froze as he was placing a piece of strawberry cheesecake in front of Y/N. For a long moment, the only sound in the dining room was the soft ticking of a clock nearby. Alfred’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly before he steadied himself, setting the plate down with his usual precision.

“That is a very heavy question for a young mind, Young Master Y/N,” Alfred’s voice was carefully neutral, but Y/N could see the storm of emotions flickering behind his eyes. The child of Hecate looked down at their cheesecake, suddenly not hungry.

“Miss Shiloh said it was my homework. She said I could ask you and Dickie about it, but I had to come up with my own answer,” Alfred took the seat across from Y/N, folding his hands on the table. The gesture reminded the child of the way he sat when they first discussed their troubles at school.

“Death is…a transition,” Alfred began slowly, choosing his words with the same care he used when handling fine china.

“A transition from one state of being to another. For some, it is an ending. For others, it is merely a beginning,” Y/N tilted their head, their small fingers tracing the edge of their plate.

“Is it like when someone goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up?” Alfred’s expression flickered again with pain, which he quickly suppressed.

“In a way, yes. But sleep implies the possibility of waking. Death is…permanent. At least in this world,” Y/N thought about the ghosts that haunted Wayne Manor. They thought about Martha and Thomas, about John and Mary, about Catherine. They thought about the way those spirits lingered, unable to move on.

“But the ghosts, they’re still here. They’re not gone gone,” Alfred’s eyes widened slightly. He had known Y/N could see the spirits of the house, but hearing them speak so plainly about them still sent a chill down the butler’s spine.

“The dead can linger, my dear. Some more than others. But they are not truly living. They are echoes of the people they used to be, memories given form,” Y/N considered this, their brow furrowed in concentration.

“Then where do they go? When they stop being ghosts, I mean,” Alfred was silent as he considered what to say. He thought about the Wayne family crypt, about the bodies kept there. He thought about the souls that he knew linger in their home, about the ones that he wished he could have just one more moment with.

“The answer to that question, my dear, is one that scholars and philosophers have debated for centuries. Some believe in an afterlife, a realm of peace where the dead find rest. Others believe in reincarnation, in the cycle of rebirth, becoming someone new. And still others believe that when we die, we simply cease to be,” Y/N’s eyes went wide at the different possibilities after death.

“What do you believe, Alfred?” The butler reached across the table and took Y/N’s small hand in his own. His skin was warm and calloused from years of service.

“I believe that death is not something to be feared. It is a natural part of existence, as certain as the rising of the sun. But I also believe that it is the living who suffer the most from it. The dead feel no pain, no grief. They have moved beyond that. But we who are left behind must carry on,” Y/N glanced over Alfred’s shoulder where Martha appeared. One of her pale hands hovered over the butler’s shoulder and she looked like she wanted to cry.

XX

Christmas morning dawned gray and cold, the sky spitting out a mixture of sleet and snow that coated the Manor’s grounds in a thin layer of ice. Y/N had barely slept the night before, or ever since they had sent their letter to Santa a few weeks ago. They had asked for just one thing this year. The child had been dreaming of Jason, but last night was different. It was not like the normal dreams where he was alive and happy like before, but a new dream where he was standing in the Manor’s foyer, his back to Y/N. He was wearing his Robin uniform, the one with the long yellow cape that the child liked to hide under. But this time, Y/N could tell something was wrong.

“Jay?” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper. Jason had turned, but his face was a blur. He said something, but the words were garbled, like a radio tuned to the wrong station. Then the front door opened, and Jason had walked out into the gray morning, disappearing into the fog.

Y/N had woken in their bedroom, the breath knocked out of them, their small hands clutching at their blankets. They had lain there for a long moment, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars their brothers had once helped put up with their heart pounding in their chest. Then Y/N had gotten up, wrapped themself in one of Jason’s hoodies, and made their way down to the Manor’s foyer. They stood by the front door, just like they had been doing for the past year, waiting for a brother who would never come through it. 

XX

Dick had not intended to come to the Manor on Christmas morning. He had made a promise to himself after that fight in the BatCave, a promise to keep his distance, to protect his heart from the pain of watching Bruce destroy himself. But Kori and his friends had come together to get gifts for Y/N and Dick could not bring himself to be another person to neglect his sibling on this day. Alfred had met the former Boy Wonder in the foyer and took the large box of gifts with a fond smile.

“Where’s Little Wing?” Alfred closed the coat closet door after putting away Dick’s jacket. The butler kept his back toward the vigilante for a moment. When the older man turned around, there was a heartbroken look on his face.

“The library,”

“What’s wrong, Alfred?” The butler glanced away with a sigh.

“The doctor I have sent the Young Master to had broached the topic of death recently…” Dick felt something snap in his chest.

“Do they…?” Alfred shook his head.

“No. They asked what I knew about death and what I thought happened afterwards. But Master Jason’s name has not come up yet,” Dick still felt unsteady.

“Then, what happened?” 

“They’ve been lost in thought since that night. And this morning, I awoke to the young master waiting by the front door again,” Dick knew that Alfred had gotten up at four in the morning to get started on his day. If the butler woke up to find Y/N already up, who knew when the child woke up themself or if they went to sleep at all.

“There’s also this,” Alfred pulled an envelope out of his inside suit pocket, handing it over to Dick. The mailing address was to Santa Claus in the North Pole, and it was from Y/N. The vigilante pulled the letter out and felt his heart break even more when he saw the one thing his sibling asked for this Christmas.

‘Please send Jay home’

XX

Dick stared at Y/N from the entrance of the library. They were still in their pajamas and looking out at the snow falling onto the grounds of Wayne Manor. There was a stuffed fox on the child’s lap, where they were absentmindedly playing with one of its ears. As he stepped closer, he realized that his little sibling had dark shadows under their eyes like they had not been sleeping. Dick sat down next to his sibling on the couch. He could see that they were biting their lip in thought so the vigilante waited. It was not a long wait before Y/N turned their head to their big brother.

“Dickie?”

“Yeah, Little Wing?” Y/N bit their lip again and looked down at their hands. With a heavy heart, Dick realized that his little sibling was wearing one of Jason’s old hoodies

“Jay’s not coming home, is he?” The question hit Dick like a physical blow. He had known this day would come, had even dreaded it, and had prayed he would not be the one to answer it. But here they were, and Y/N was looking at him with those big eyes, fighting back tears, and just hoping Dick would say what Alfred would always say.

Not yet.

Dick opened his mouth, but the lie would not come. He could not do it. Not anymore.

“...No. I’m sorry. Jay…Jay can’t come home…” Y/N’s face crumpled, but they fought to keep their composure.

“Is he lost like Odysseus?” Dick blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. Odysseus? Where would an eight-year-old even learn about some mythical character even he hadn’t even learned about until high school? But he shook the thought away, focusing on what to say next. 

“Little Wing, what did Alfred say about death?”

“Alfred said when someone dies, they are no longer here with us…That death was permanent and no one could come back,” Y/N glanced through the room as if they were looking for or at something before they turned back to Dick.

“But…Jay’s just lost, right, Dickie? He said he’d be back soon. He promised. Dickie. Please, you have to find a way to bring him back,” Dick could feel his heart breaking at his little sibling on  the verge of a breakdown.

“You and Pa are heroes. You save people. You can save Jay. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good. I’ll never complain about anything ever again. I’ll do all my homework, and eat all my vegetables. I’ll help Alfred with chores. I’ll never, ever ask for anything ever again. Just bring Jay back,”

“Y/N…” Y/N’s tears finally began to slip down their face as they shook their head. They knew Dick only used their name when he was being serious. The child reached forward with shaky hands, grabbing onto Dick’s shirt.

“No, no. Bring me Jay. I want my Jay. Where is Jay? Dickie, please. He promised,” Dick pulled Y/N against his chest into a tight hug. He let his own tears stream down his face as his little sibling kept saying ‘he promised’ over and over again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But Jay’s gone. He’s dead, baby,” Y/N let out a sound that was half-sob, half-scream, burying their face in Dick’s chest. The man held them tightly, rocking them back and forth as if they were a baby again.

XX

The hours blurred together. Y/N’s sobs slowly quieted into hiccups, then into exhausted whimpers. Dick held them through all of it, his own tears drying on his cheeks that he could not bother to wipe away. The snow outside had begun to fall harder, making it hard to see anything. Y/N’s cries had finally exhausted them, their small body going limp against Dick’s chest. The vigilante looked down at his little sibling, their face tear-streaked and swollen, their breathing shallow and uneven. He knew he should move them, should get them up to their bed, but Dick was still an older brother who had just broken his youngest sibling’s heart. So sue him, if he wanted to hold onto Y/N for just a little longer.

Dick ran his hand up and down Y/N’s little back. He paused when he felt some sort of metal and cord around their tiny neck. The older man looked down, following the metal and cord around Y/N’s neck and found two very different necklaces. One was a delicate silver with a strange three moon charm with different gemstones; it was beautiful and Dick wondered where Y/N got it. He would have to ask Alfred where his sibling had gotten it; maybe he could get one for his Star. The other necklace was a leather cord with a simple-looking bead; it was a silvery blue color with what looked like a twisting green snake painted onto it. That had to be from the camp Y/N went to over the summer. Dick had heard that Alfred had already confirmed the youngest Wayne’s attendance in the upcoming summer; they must have really liked it there.

“Little Wing?” Dick’s voice was barely above a whisper. Y/N stirred slightly, their small hand fisting in his sweater.

“Don’t go, Dickie. Please, not you too,” The words were so quiet, so broken, that Dick felt his heart shatter all over again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ves’tacha. I’ve got you,” The nickname Dick’s mother once called him just slipped out, but he knew he meant it with his whole heart. Y/N was truly his ‘Beloved’ sibling. He pressed a kiss against the top of their head, before he carefully cradled them against his chest as he stood up. The child’s head lolled against his shoulder, their eyes already fluttering closed, but they still let out a small whimper. 

Dick made his way through the Manor’s halls, not knowing that those that haunted said halls walked alongside him. His parents were at his side, their sad gazes for once not turned toward their son, but to the small one he claimed as family. Martha had kissed her husband’s cheek before leaving him to his constant vigil over the Cave’s entrance as she followed after her grandchildren. Catherine, still weeping since her own son had disappeared from this realm, could only let more tears fall at the sight of the brokenhearted family. Even the ones that Y/N had yet to learn their names, but have been looking after the youngest Wayne since their ghostly sight had been discovered, bowed their heads in solidarity as the two walked past.

Y/N’s room was exactly as the child had left it earlier that morning, but it felt like a lifetime since Dick had been here. Gone was the crib he made with Alfred; the butler had let the boy choose the colors, a dark green to match Robin’s uniform and a purple so dark it was almost black to match Bruce. In place of the crib was a four-poster bed with drapes in Y/N’s favorite colors, a quilt that Alfred claimed belonged to Martha Wayne’s mother and too many stuffed toys that he knew were from his family and friends. Dick eyed the neon green tiger that he knew Gar had sent the first year he met Y/N as he gently laid the child on their bed. He began to pull the covers up to their chin, but a small hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay, Dickie. Please,” Y/N’s voice was thick with exhaustion. Dick looked down at the child and saw the desperation in their eyes, and he knew he could not refuse them. Not today. Probably not ever.

“Okay, Ves’tacha. Scoot over,” Dick pulled his damp sweater over his head, leaving him in his BPD t-shirt. He climbed into the bed and immediately the child curled right up against him, their small body fitting against his side like they were always meant to be there. Dick wrapped his arms around them again, tucking them against his chest.

“Love you, Dickie,” Y/N went limp once more against his body, finally resting after who knows how long.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than anything,” Dick pressed another kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, feeling their breathing even out. He closed his own eyes, not moving for some time and just listening to the wind howl outside. For the first time in months, Dick did not feel the need to run.

XX

Dick did not leave Y/N’s side for the next couple of days. He told himself it was because his sibling needed him, because they were still grieving, because they were too young to be left alone with their pain. But the truth was simpler and more painful: Dick needed Y/N too. The grief that had been festering inside his chest for months had finally broken open, and being near Y/N was the only thing that made it bearable. They spent the days in a quiet haze, opening gifts by the tree and menorah, eating Alfred’s cooking, and talking about everything and nothing.

But Dick could not ignore the elephant in the room. Bruce had not been home. The man’s bedroom and study were empty. The younger man had seen and heard the news reports on the television and radio. The Batman was out there doing what he always did: hunting for the Joker, losing himself to the darkness, and drowning in his grief. Dick wanted to confront Bruce, wanted to scream at him to make him see what he was doing to his family. But when Dick was about to try to do just that, he discovered something that left the former Boy Wonder filled with ice and dread.

Dick had slipped away at the end of dinner one night as Alfred prepared coffee, hot chocolate and dessert. The grandfather clock loomed before him. He pulled the secret lever to reveal the keypad. He entered his access code and waited, but then the screen flashed red, leaving behind one message.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick had stared at the screen, his blood running cold. He tried again, more carefully and slowly this time, making sure each digit was absolutely correct.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick typed in Alfred’s code, the butler had let the younger man know just in case of an emergency.

ACCESS DENIED

“Maybe Jason’s?” Dick put in Jason’s code; he had helped the younger boy figure out his own when he took over as Robin.

ACCESS DENIED

Dick felt a chill run down his spine. He had one more code he could try. The one Bruce made for a worldwide disaster.

ACCESS DENIED

The screen went black, then displayed a single line of text: 

THIS ACCESS POINT HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY DISABLED BY THE SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR

Dick felt something inside him break. Bruce had locked him out. Not just him, but the rest of his family, even the memory of Jason. There was no coming back from this. Dick pulled out his phone and called Barbara. For half a moment, he felt bad, but then his friend picked up on the second ring.

“Dick? What’s wrong?” Barbara’s voice was sharp with concern. Dick could hear someone in the background singing badly while someone was cheering them on. Barbara was probably with her father at the Gotham PD holiday party. That bad feeling filled the man’s chest again.

“Sorry, Babs…I just…” There was a muffled conversation on the other side of the phone call before the singing slowly began to disappear.

“Dick, take a breath and then tell me what’s going on,” Dick took a steadying breath as he leaned against Bruce’s desk.

“He locked me out…”

“Who did?”

“Bruce. I’m at the Manor, and I tried to get into the Cave, and he locked me out. He shut off the access point. None of the codes work. Mine, Alfred’s, Jason’s, even the emergency one,” Barbara gasped as Dick hung his head, closing his eyes. He felt like clinging to the bare threads that were barely holding his family together and he did not know what to do. Barbara was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more careful.

“When Bruce started this crusade, I thought I understood. The Joker ruined my life. He needed to be stopped before he ruined more lives. But…Bruce is no longer the Batman I looked up to anymore. He’s more violent and he’s even started to hesitate listening to my advice,” So Bruce was even shutting out Barbara too.

“But the worst was the other day. Bruce almost killed a man. He may have been a henchman, but he is likely going to be in the hospital for months,” Dick bit his lip as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“I don’t know what to do, Babs,”

“Same,” For a moment, the former Robin and Batgirl let the silence linger. The man who saw the best in them was drowning what he thought was justice, but could it even be called justice anymore. 

“I hate to say it, Dick, but you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved,” Dick sighed.

“I know. But I have to try. He’s still my dad. He’s still Bruce, even if he’s forgotten how to be. We need him…Y/N still needs him,” Dick glanced over towards the door of the study, down the hallway that would lead back to his sibling.

“How is my favorite munchkin?” Dick let himself smile at Barbara’s nickname for Y/N. It was rare that his friend would interact with the child, rarer now due to how inaccessible the Manor was for Barbara’s wheelchair. But he remembered the one time that the former Batgirl had helped Dick watch over Y/N when Bruce was at a gala and Alfred was away for vacation. The toddler had been chaotic and had been running circles around the teenagers, but Barbara had scooped up Y/N and the trio made their way down to the home theater. The rest of that night passed quickly with children’s cartoons and movies and way too much popcorn.

“It’s been a rough couple of days,” Every time Dick tried to tell himself that he should head back to Blüdhaven, he would look at Y/N and feel haunted by their breakdown from the other day. Kori had texted him and told him to keep staying with his sibling; the Titans would be fine for a little while without him.

“But now they can start healing,”

“Yeah,”

“Look. I’ll keep an eye on Bruce. I’ll track his patterns, make sure he doesn’t go too far. I can’t stop him, but I can still watch over him,”

“Thanks, Babs. I don’t know what else to do,” Barbara sighed.

“You’re doing what you can, Dick. That’s all any of us can do. Now go take care of Y/N, give them a hug for me,” Dick smiled weakly.

“Thanks, Babs, really for everything,”

“Always,” Dick hung up and stood in the empty study for a moment. He glanced at the clock, trembling at the chill in the air. He knew he should feel angry, should feel betrayed, but all Dick felt was a deep, hollow sadness that echoed in the halls of the Manor.

XX

After almost a week of staying at the Manor, Dick finally had to leave. His boss at BPD had messaged him about covering a shift. The vigilante agreed to come back after one last night. He had to break the news to Y/N and Alfred over dinner, but surprisingly the child was understanding. All they asked of Dick was to read them a bedside story. So after dinner and Y/N’s nightly routine was almost done, the vigilante found himself back in the child’s bedroom. As Y/N was brushing their teeth, Dick looked around their room for a book. There was a couple on the nightstand. A small smile appeared on his face when he picked up the first one to find Alice in Wonderland. There was a red and green bookmark with a yellow tassel sticking out towards the end. Dick turned when he heard Y/N’s footsteps coming over.

“Hey, I haven’t read this one in a while. How about this one tonight?” Dick held up the book in his hands. But instead of looking excited, Y/N looked like they were about to cry. The child quickly snatched the book away from their big brother, hugging it to their chest.

“Whoa…hey, Little Wing, what’s wrong? We don’t snatch things like that,” Y/N wiped at their eyes.

“Sorry, Dickie,” Dick kneeled down, putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on, okay?” Y/N nodded, before looking down at their book.

“It’s just…Jay was reading this before he…” For a second, Dick did not understand but he glanced back down at the book, catching sight of the bookmark once more, at its Robin uniform colors. Then, it clicked in his brain, remembering all the times he had found his siblings reading together and Jason holding that exact bookmark that Dick knew Y/N had made for their big brother.

“Oh…oh, sweetheart. I understand,” Y/N shook their head.

“I know you said Jay is gone, but if I finish the story, then he really is gone. This way, Jay is just in Wonderland with Alice…and I can visit him,” Dick felt his heart breaking all over again. He gave his little sibling a gentle smile.

“I get it, Little Wing. I like that idea. How about this? I won’t finish the story for you, but how about we start it over? We can send Jay onto his trip through Wonderland together,” Y/N thought for a moment over Dick’s words before nodding. Dick motioned towards the bed. He waited for Y/N to climb up before he settled in right next to them. The child tucked themself against the older man’s side as he wrapped his arm around them and then opened the book to the first page.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank…”

XX

The rest of the school year passed in a blur of gray skies and quiet moments. Y/N found a rhythm to their days: school with Miss Guzmán, therapy sessions with Miss Shiloh, skateboarding on weekends, and letters to Lou Ellen and their camp friends. The grief over Jason still lingered like a shadow, but it was no longer the all-consuming darkness that it had been that winter holiday.

In March, Y/N received a letter from Connor Stoll. He was settling into New Rome College, specializing in languages, particularly lost ones. He wrote that he missed Camp Half-Blood but was excited for the future. He also included a photo of himself, his older brother Travis next to a girl and a boy. The girl was apparently Travis’s girlfriend, Ava Delaney, daughter of Pomona while the other boy was Agustín Pérez, son of the Norse god Bragi. Connor had met the son of Bragi at orientation and were supposedly ‘just friends’ but he also called the boy Auggie and had left a small heart by his name on the back of the photo. 

In April, Y/N got a letter from Josie. The daughter of Aphrodite graduated high school early so she could travel Europe with her father as he filmed a new movie over there. She sent photos of ancient ruins and seashores and told the child to keep practicing their cooking skills with the new instructor at camp. She also mentioned meeting a girl while in Rome named Caterina and that she was too pretty for words. Josie lovingly called her Cat and said her father really approved of the Italian girl. Y/N did not know much about romance, that was for bigger kids, but if their friends, Connor and Josie, were happy, then maybe love was something to look forward to when the child of Hecate was older.

Julia sent updates from the Hermes Cabin. She was doing well as the new counselor, though Fitz was taking up Connor’s former role as the camp troublemaker. She had hoped that Alphonse would temper the child of Hermes’s mischief, but lately the two have been working together on pranks. Julia, also, has a new year-round camper by the name of Jubilee; the new camper was only a couple years older than Y/N and had a talent for theatrics. There were several bets being made about Jubilee’s parentage, but Julia was hoping the kid would be claimed by summer just so she did not have to deal with the younger girl’s chaos anymore. 

And Lou Ellen wrote about her preparation for the coming summer, about the new spells she had been practicing and the books she had been collecting for Y/N’s education. She mentioned that she had been in contact with a daughter of Pluto named Hazel Levesque who was also a student of Hecate, but she mainly used the Mist as a weapon other than to use spells. Lou Ellen said Mist training would have to wait until Y/N is older, since it could be really tricky at first. That she was just asking Hazel for some advice and what sort of spells the daughter of Hecate could begin to teach her younger sibling.

XX

By the time summer arrived, Y/N had grown in ways both visible and invisible. They were a little taller, a little leaner from all the time spent on their skateboard. Their hair had grown longer, falling into their eyes if they did not push it back, but they had waved away Alfred’s attempts to trim it. And there was a quietness to them now, their grief and loneliness clinging to them. But there was also a spark of something new: a determination that flickered behind their eyes like a candle flame.

The day Poppy pulled up to Wayne Manor in his beat-up station wagon, Y/N was waiting by the front door with their trunk packed and Jason’s backpack slung over their shoulders once more. Alfred stood behind them, his hand resting gently on the child’s shoulder.

“Ready for another summer, kiddo?” Poppy grinned as he hopped out of the car. Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at their lips.

“Ready,” Poppy grinned as he popped open the trunk of his car. Alfred knelt down to adjust Y/N’s collar, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“You have the emergency numbers?”

“Yes, Alfred,”

“And the drachmas?”

“Yes, Alfred,”

“And the rules?”

“Eat my vegetables. Listen to my counselors. Write home every week. And have fun,” Alfred nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright.

“Good. Then off you go, Young Master Y/N,” Y/N leaned forward and wrapped their arms around Alfred’s neck. The butler held them tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of their head as he pulled away.

“I’ll miss you,” Y/N’s voice was a whisper, only for Alfred’s ears to hear.

“And I you, my dear. But you will have a wonderful summer. I am sure of it,” Y/N wiped at their eyes, giving Alfred another smile. Then they turned, grabbed Poppy’s outstretched hand, and climbed into the station wagon. As the car pulled away from the Manor, Y/N looked back through the rear window. Alfred stood in the doorway, a small figure against the grand stone facade. They watched until he disappeared from view, then turned to face the road ahead.

XX

Camp Half-Blood was just as Y/N remembered it: the strawberry fields, cabins that were every color of the rainbow, the sound of laughter and clashing swords. Y/N stepped out of the station wagon and breathed in the familiar scent of pine and salt water. For a moment, the weight that had been pressing on their chest for months seemed to lift just a little. A blur of movement caught their eye, and before Y/N could react, two figures were barreling toward them.

“BABY BAT!!!” Fitz’s voice was unmistakable, carrying across the parking lot like a battle cry. They skidded to a stop in front of Y/N, their green hair messy and now a little longer, a braid framed the right side of their face with an orange-red round stone at the end of it.

“Fitz–” Y/N started, but they were cut off as the child of Hermes scooped them up in a crushing hug. The child melted into the embrace before Fitz pulled away. The child of Hecate reached up and fixed Fitz’s askew glasses, getting a cheeky grin in thanks.

“You grew! How much? You were a mere gremlin when you left!” Fitz held Y/N at arm’s length, examining them with exaggerated scrutiny.

“You’ve lost your color! Gotham really does not get any sun, does it? And—oh, oh no. You’ve got that look,” Y/N tilted their head.

“What look?”

“That look,” Fitz repeated, pointing at Y/N’s face. The child pouted in confusion, not totally understanding the child of Hermes’s words.

“The one that says you’ve been through some stuff. The one that says you need a skateboard, a half-pipe and someone to tell you everything’s going to be okay and fed you a bunch of cookies,” Y/N felt their eyes sting, but they blinked rapidly and tried to give Fitz a small smile to placate the child of Hermes.

“I don’t have a look,” Fitz did not look convinced, nor did Julia as she crouched down next to her sibling and Y/N. The daughter of Hermes soothed away some of the child of Hecate’s wild hair.

“You absolutely have a look. But Fitz is right. We’ve got you now, kid. Whatever happened back in Gotham, you’re here now,” Y/N allowed themself to be pulled into another hug by Julia, this one gentler than Fitz’s enthusiastic tackle, but just as warm. The daughter of Hermes held Y/N for a long moment, her hand rubbing small circles on their back.

“Lou’s been preparing for weeks. She’s even got a whole curriculum planned,” Julia pulled away as she spoke. She looked amused about Lou Ellen’s preparations.

“Come on. Let’s help Poppy get you to your Cabin,”

XX

The Hecate Cabin looked exactly as Y/N remembered it: dark wood, inlaid stones, and carved runes. The door swung open before the child could get up the stairs, and Lou Ellen stood in the doorway, her white-blonde hair pulled back in its usual twisted bun. There was a familiar screech of an owl further into the cabin, which made the siblings smile.

“Hey hon,” Lou Ellen’s voice was warm as she pulled Y/N into a hug. The child melted into their sister’s embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and old books. Y/N felt some of the tension they had not even realized they’d been carrying finally begin to ease.

“I missed you,” Y/N’s voice was muffled against the fabric of Lou Ellen’s overalls.

“I missed you too, little sibling. Come on, let’s get you settled. I’ve got so much to show you,” Lou Ellen pulled back, her neon green eyes searching Y/N’s face for a moment. Whatever she saw there made her expression soften.

“You’ve been through it, haven’t you?” Y/N nodded, not trusting their voice. Lou Ellen squeezed their shoulder.

“It’s okay. We’ve got all summer. Plenty of time to talk, or not talk, whichever you need. Heck, I’d bet Clarisse will give you something to hit if that’s what you want,” Lou Ellen picked up Y/N’s trunk that Poppy had left before he went to go meet up with some other Satyrs. The child giggled a little at their sister’s suggestion about Clarisse as they followed her inside their cabin. Maeve waved her wings at the sight of the Gothamite, screeching in her usual eerie way.

“Hi, Maeve!” Y/N ran over to the barn owl and Maeve leaned down to preen the child’s hair. Lou Ellen walked over as well after leaving the child’s trunk by their bed. The daughter of Hecate had a soft smile on her face as she looked at her familiar and little sibling.

“She says her owlet looks tired. Have you been sleeping well?” Y/N tilted their head.

“Owlet?’ Lou Ellen let out a small laugh, before taking her seat at the table at the center of the cabin.

“Baby owl. She used to call you Pup at first because of Fitz’s nickname for you, but recently changed it up to Owlet. Now stop ignoring my question,” Y/N bit their lip as they took their own seat across from Lou Ellen. The child shook their head. Their strange dreams had continued since Christmas. It was often about Jason, about forgetting his face and voice, but then it transformed into the same dreams about their father. Y/N could not remember the last time they had seen their father in person. Only fragments of him were scattered around the house: Mister Lucius often came by with paperwork that was left stacked in the study, Alfred had complained about the coffee mugs disappearing from the kitchen cabinets, sometimes a hint of his cologne lingering near his rooms, and even Grandpa Thomas had started to leave the study to roam the Manor with his wife, which he never did.

“Bad dreams,” Lou Ellen frowned at Y/N’s words, but she knew that demigods often had dreams that were considered strange or unusual.

“Did your Alfred make the recipe Will sent him for the honey milk?” The drink was not a cure, just something a camper had seen in a movie and had made one night a young camper had a nightmare. The recipe spread quickly through the camp and it was often made to comfort those who struggled with sleep. Y/N nodded; Alfred had made the honey milk for the bad nights, but those bad nights just kept happening.

“Hmm, maybe we should add lavender or catnip to help. I’ll talk to Will,” Y/N nodded along, but it was clear that Lou Ellen was speaking her thoughts aloud to organize them. The child of Hecate looked around the Cabin. It had changed a little since the previous summer. The bookshelves were even more packed, with new scrolls and leather-bound tomes, but the shelf by Y/N’s bed had regular books as well that were suited to the child’s tastes. The table the siblings were seated at was no longer covered in books, though Lou Ellen’s side had a stack of notebooks and sketchbooks, ink bottles and a few books. Maeve was preening herself on her branch attached to the table.

“Okay. So I’ve been working on a system,” Lou Ellen’s voice made Y/N turn  back to their sister. The daughter of Hecate practically vibrated with excitement as she gestured to the table.

“A way to teach you the glyphs that will actually make sense. Mother threw me in without making sure I could float. And while it worked out in the end, I don’t want that for you,” Lou Ellen had been in her early teens when she was finally claimed by Hecate, but she had struggled with her powers even before that. Just like Alabaster had, which was why Luke had gotten his claws in her older brother. Thankfully, it was Julia and then Hazel Levesque who helped the struggling Lou Ellen.

“So I thought about it over these past couple months and then it hit me when I was reading. Glyphs in their own way are their own language. When I make a spell, especially a combined spell, I am making words. Watch,” Lou Ellen grabbed her battle sketchbook; it was circular with easily tearable paper. Julia had commissioned Alphonse to make it for her, as well as several additional ones to replace the old ones. Lou Ellen grabbed one of her pens and flipped open the notebook. She began to draw the spiral glyph for wind, making it the center of the spell. Then she made six teardrop shapes along the spiral outer rim. Lastly to complete the spell and with practiced ease, Lou Ellen drew the spell circle around the entire spell but stopped just before closing the circle. The daughter of Hecate looked up at Y/N, who had watched her do this in a matter of seconds with wide eyes.

“Ready?” Y/N nodded eagerly to Lou Ellen’s question, which the older girl answered with a wink and closed the circle. The daughter of Hecate pressed ink-stained fingers to the center of the spell and let her intent flow through her. 

The ink on the paper began to glow first an eerie white gleam for its wind element that began to twinge with blue for the added water. Fog began to bellow upward off of the paper to drift up into the room. Y/N looked around, fascinated by the soupy mist. Lou Ellen often used this spell as a cover; though she mainly used it for Capture the Flag. Sometimes she could change the color of the fog with different colored inks and her intent; Percy Jackson had been fond of the bright blue fog Lou Ellen had used the one time he was at camp for a visit and got to play the game.

“That’s amazing!” Y/N’s voice was filled with wonder as they watched the fog swirl around them. Lou Ellen grinned, clearly pleased with her little sibling’s reaction.

“That’s only just the beginning. Watch this,” Lou Ellen circled her finger against the spell circle, continuing to flow her intent into her work. Around the siblings, the fog began to swirl in the same direction the witch was moving her finger. Y/N whipped their head around to follow the fog, stars in their eyes.

“Can you make shapes?” Lou Ellen grinned at Y/N’s question.

“I can. But it takes a bigger spell circle,” Lou Ellen finally took her finger away from the paper to release the spell. The fog slowly began to dissipate, leaving the room slightly chilled.

“The real magic is in the intention. The glyphs are your words, the spell is the sentence, and your intent is the meaning. Without intent, the glyphs are just shapes. Without the glyphs, the intent has no form. Do you understand?” Y/N thought over Lou Ellen’s words, trying to understand their meaning, before they nodded.

“I think so. The glyphs are like letters, and I put them together to make words. And the words have to mean something, or they don’t work, right?” Lou Ellen’s grin widened.

“Exactly! Do you want to try your first spell?” Y/N nodded eagerly. Lou Ellen tore out the fog spell from her battle notebook as the child across from her sat up on their knees to watch their sister.

“The ‘Light’ spell is the easiest, but it’s also one of the most versatile. You can use it to illuminate a room, to create a small flame, or even to blind an opponent if you’re clever enough,” Lou Ellen began to draw the new spell. A dot in the middle of the page was then surrounded by a small circle and then eight short lines like rays of sun wrapped around the middle circle and then finished it off with the final circle. Lou Ellen pressed her finger to the center of her spell to imbue her intent. A small flame came up from the paper. Lou Ellen pulled her finger away from the paper, but did not let go of her intent as she cupped the flame, forcing her focus towards the fire instead. She moved her hand around and the flame moved with her as if tethered to her palm. Lou Ellen then closed her hand, willing away her intent to extinguish the flame. The daughter of Hecate looked over at Y/N, whose mouth was agape. Lou Ellen could not help her chuckling at her little sibling.

“Ready?” Y/N nodded again excitedly. Lou Ellen grabbed one of the empty sketchbooks she had available and slid it across the table. The younger child took off their backpack and pulled out the calligraphy set Alfred had given them. Lou Ellen held up the spell she had just drawn so Y/N could copy it. The child of Hecate drew as carefully as they could with painstaking precision. It was not perfect, but it was close.

“Now, do as I did. Place a finger onto the glyph and focus. Focus on your intent. Think about what you want it to do. What sort of light you want it to become,” Y/N closed their eyes, concentrating. They could have thought about all sorts of light that was in their life that they wanted their light spell to become: about the light that filled their tower at sunset, about the warm glow of the fireplace in the library, even about the way Alfred would turn on the small lamp by Y/N’s bed before saying goodnight. But the light that they thought they wanted was from a memory with Jason, about the nights they would watch fireflies fly all around the gardens. That was what Y/N wanted. Lou Ellen watched a small will-o’-wisp of light pop up from Y/N’s spell, but then it was followed by several others forming as well, exactly like fireflies. 

“Y/N, open your eyes,” Y/N did as they were told and they found themself surrounded by the will-o’-wisps. Some were even blinking like a firefly would, but they stayed floating around their creator. With excited breath, Y/N grinned widely as they looked around at their spell. Lou Ellen could not help but smile as well.

“Okay, release your spell. Let go of what you felt, will them away,” Y/N lifted their finger away from their spell circle. They remembered Jason telling them to say good night to the fireflies so the child could go to bed. So in their mind, Y/N said good night to their will-o’-wisps and the tiny balls of light faded away. The child beamed over at Lou Ellen, who returned it with a wide smile.

“That was amazing for a first attempt,” For the first time in months, Y/N felt like they had control over something, that they could do something to make a difference in their own life.

“So, about your schedule,” Y/N looked up at Lou Ellen at the sound of her voice. They tilted their head curiously.

“What about my schedule?”

“I would like to include magic lessons during the week, not just the weekend like last summer. So are there any activities you would not mind dropping to do so?” Y/N thought over their usual camp schedule. They liked all of the activities they did, but there were some they were willing to drop.

“Swimming, Archery and Pegasi Riding,” Lou Ellen nodded.

“Sorry, but Archery is nonnegotiable. It’s a required activity for all demigods. Chiron wants us to always be prepared for battle even if we’re in a time of peace,” Y/N pouted a little, but then shrugged. The other activities they dropped could still happen during weekends, since those days were usually free time for the child of Hecate.

“Am I going to be able to do Capture the Flag this year?” Lou Ellen shook her head.

“No. Chiron wants you to progress a little more with your weapons training before he lets you loose in that game. I also want you to have a few magic tricks up your sleeve before you do that too,” Y/N nodded, accepting the answer. They would just have to annoy Clarisse a little more so the daughter of Ares will let the child do more than just swing a wooden sword. A conch horn could be heard outside in the distance, making the children of Hecate look at each other.

“Dinner time. Come on, I heard from the harpies that there’s going to be a special dessert tonight,” Y/N grinned as they jumped off their chair. The child of Hecate took their backpack over to their bed before they waited by the front door for their sister. Lou Ellen gave Maeve a scratch under the owl’s chin before joining her sibling. She held out her hand for Y/N to take.

“Hey, Y/N?” The child looked up at their sister’s voice. Lou Ellen had a soft smile on her face as she opened the Cabin door.

“I’m proud of you, you know. For today, for everything. You’re going to do great things, I just know it,” Y/N felt their eyes sting, but this time it was not from sadness. They nodded, leaning against their big sister with a small smile on their little face.

“Thanks, Lou,”

“Any time, hon,”

XX

The days at Camp Half-Blood fell back into a comfortable rhythm. They still had the same lessons and activities like the previous summer. There were many familiar faces around the camp, but some people were missing. Josie and Connor were two people Y/N missed the most, but Sherman from Ares Cabin and Sabrine from the Aphrodite Cabin were also gone as well. There were also new people the child of Hecate met; Minho Hwa, a son of Aphrodite who took over the cooking lessons from Josie and Jubilee Radcliffe, the girl Julia had written about in her letters, who was actually Mr. D’s daughter. She was 10, had warm olive skin with freckles all over, hazel eyes and honey-blonde hair that curled wildly. When the daughter of Dionysus wasn’t following after her older brother, Pollux, she still kept to the Hermes Cabin schedule, which meant she was often in the same lessons as Y/N. After a few days of being in the same classes, Jubilee followed the child of Hecate to the half-pipe after dinner.

“So why does Fitz call you Baby Bat?” Y/N looked at Jubilee as they held onto their skateboard.

“I’m from Gotham,” Y/N noticed a pair of bright pink roller skates strung together and thrown over Jubilee’s shoulders.

“Oh that’s cool! I’m from DC. I’ve seen Wonder Woman a couple of times. Have you ever seen Batman?” Y/N bit their lip, wanting more than anything to nod their head, but they shook it instead.

“No. I live in the Bristol neighborhood. We don’t get a lot of villains out there so Batman isn’t seen there much,” Jubilee pouted, but she quickly recovered.

“That’s a shame. But I bet you’ve seen some of the cool stuff anyway. Your city is supposedly haunted or something,” Y/N giggled at Jubilee’s comment about their hometown.

“Or something. I did see the aftermath of Miss Poison Ivy taking over Robinson Park. She made a bunch of huge flowers that reminded me of Wonderland,” Jubilee’s eyes sparkled with excitement as the two children got closer to the half-pipe.

“Tell me everything!”

XX

Y/N and Jubilee quickly became inseparable. The daughter of Dionysus was loud, enthusiastic, and had a dramatic flair that fit perfectly with her divine parentage, but also apparently her mortal parent as well. Her mother was Nimona Radcliffe, a semi-famous stage actress, and Jubilee eventually wanted to be like her mother. The daughter of Dionysus was going to be a year-round camper, due to her mother’s heavy schedule, so to some degree she knew almost exactly what Y/N went through with their own father. Jubilee was also fiercely loyal, and she took one look at Y/N’s quiet loneliness and decided that they needed a friend and that friend was going to be her. It was the kind of friendship that happened quickly and easily, the way friendships did when you were young and the world was still full of possibilities. They spent their free time together: skateboarding and roller-skating, exploring the edges of the forest, trading stories about their families, and making up elaborate games that only they understood the rules to. The camp soon found that if you went looking for one kid, the other was always going to be nearby. For the first time since Jenny had drifted away at school, Y/N had a friend who actually saw them.

But Y/N’s true focus that summer was on magic. Lou Ellen was a patient teacher, encouraging the younger child of Hecate’s imagination for spells. Every day, Y/N had to try a new spell, whether it turned out right like their will-o’-wisps or really wrong like the time they first attempted a water spell and it shot off the page like a high-powered water gun and sprayed Lou Ellen completely. The daughter of Hecate had laughed that off and immediately hugged her sibling to get them wet as well before showing where the younger had gotten wrong with their spell. 

XX

The summer passed in a blur of growth and discovery. Y/N’s magical abilities expanded rapidly under Lou Ellen’s patient tutelage. They learned to form shields, to manipulate small objects, to create minor illusions, and even handle various elements to a novice degree. But their favorite spell was their first, their will-o’-wisp fireflies. Just like Lou Ellen could change the color of her spells with different inks, Y/N could do the same with their tiny lights. The child often fell asleep reading as their will-o’-wisps hovered over them.

But it was not just the magic that Y/N grew in ability. Their combat skills had improved somewhat under Clarisse’s watchful eye. The daughter of Ares had finally relented and allowed Y/N to progress from a wooden sword to a blunted bronze blade. Y/N was still clumsy, still too small to properly wield the weapon, but they were determined. They practiced every day, even on the days that they did not have the sword and shield practice, with their small hands developing calluses that Alfred would definitely notice and worry over when Y/N returned home.The child was not sure if the sword was the weapon they wanted to be their primary weapon, but Clarisse had said that figuring that out could happen when the child of Hecate was older. Lou Ellen had her battle notebook, but she also preferred her bow and even had arrows that had spells carved into their wood; she merely had to focus her magical intent into the arrow and let the arrow loose.

XX

But even as Y/N grew stronger, even as they made friends and learned new skills, the grief still lingered. It was a quiet companion, always present, always waiting. Sometimes, in the dead of night, Y/N would wake from a dream of Jason and lie in their bed, staring at the ceiling and wonder if they would ever feel whole again, if the hole in their heart would ever heal. These thoughts were often accompanied with tears.

Lou Ellen noticed; she always did. She would wake from her own sleep as if she knew that her sibling had another bad dream and would pad over to Y/N’s bed with quiet footsteps. Her little sibling always made room for their big sister, just like she would if the child came over to her bed. The daughter of Hecate would lay down with Y/N and run her hand through the child’s hair, humming softly until Y/N’s tears finally stopped.

“I miss him too,” Lou Ellen had whispered one night as Y/N wiped away their tears. The child looked curiously at their sister.

“I never met him, but I miss him. Because he was important to you, and he made you happy. And I wish I could have known him,” Y/N sniffled, tears welling up in their eyes once more.

“I think he would have liked it here. He would have gotten along with all you big kids really good,” Y/N’s voice was wobbly as the tears threatened to fall once more. Lou Ellen smiled as she pulled Y/N’s blanket over herself and got more comfortable.

“Really? What Cabin do you think would suit him most?” Y/N thought it over as they wiped at their eyes some more.

“Maybe Hermes. Though I think he used to read more than all the Athena kids do,” Lou Ellen chuckled.

“I think we both know that Fitz would have probably driven him up the wall,” Y/N giggled, but then shook their head.

“No. Jay’s favorite book was Pride and Prejudice. He would have liked the fact that Fitz named themself after Mister Darcy. I think he would have also liked the pranks they come up with and would try to use them on Dickie,” Lou Ellen laughed again, bumping her forehead against Y/N’s. The siblings were quiet for a couple of moments, before the child spoke up again.

“Lou? Will it get better? The sadness?” Lou Ellen was quiet for a long moment, her fingers still carding through Y/N’s hair. The only sounds in the Cabin were Maeve’s soft hoot-like snores and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

“I think…” Lou Ellen began slowly, her voice thoughtful.

“I think it gets different. Not easier, exactly, but different. You learn to carry it with you instead of letting it carry you,” Lou Ellen shifted to look down at Y/N’s face, her neon green eyes soft in the darkness.

“Some days, it will feel like the sadness is too heavy, like you can’t breathe around it. And on those days, you have to let yourself feel it. You cry, you scream, you break things if you have to. You don’t have to be strong all the time. That’s what I’m here for, and Alfred, and even Fitz and your other friends,” Y/N pressed their face against Lou Ellen’s shoulder, their fingers curling into the fabric of the older girl’s sleep shirt.

“But other days, you’ll wake up and the sadness will be quieter. It’ll still be there, like a shadow that follows you around, but it won’t be so loud. And those are the days you hold onto, because they mean you’re healing, even if it doesn’t feel like it,” Y/N was quiet for a moment, absorbing Lou Ellen’s words. Then, in a voice so small it was almost inaudible, they whispered.

“Do you think Jay knows I still love him? Even though he’s gone?” Lou Ellen felt her heart crack a little at the question. She hugged Y/N tighter, putting her chin atop their head.

“Hon, I don’t know much about what happens after death. I think it’s different for everyone, mortal or not. But I do know that love doesn’t just disappear when someone dies. It’s still there, and I think…I think they can feel it. Wherever they are,” Y/N sniffled again, burying their face in Lou Ellen’s chest. They missed their Jay, they missed his voice and warm hugs, they missed that he was their hero inside and out of the cape. 

“I hope so too,” The siblings lay there in comfortable silence for a long while, the weight of the conversation settling around them like a heavy blanket. After some time, Lou Ellen heard Y/N’s breathing even out into the slow rhythm of sleep. She pressed a kiss to the top of their head, before she whispered into the darkness of their Cabin.

“Sleep well, little one. I’ve got you,”

XX

The summer ended too quickly, as summers always did. On the last full day of camp, Y/N sat on the dock with their feet dangling over the water, watching the sun set over the Long Island Sound. Jubilee sat beside them, her honey-blonde hair a wild mess of tangles from a day of running around the camp. The two children had spent their last day together trying to do everything they had not gotten around to doing: a water balloon fight that soon turned into a whole camp escapade, trying each other’s skating equipment that only ended up in a trip to the Apollo Medic Tent and all other sort of things children were supposed to do at their ages. The older demigods just let the two kids be, letting them have this day to themselves, since they knew that Y/N would be headed home the next day and Jubilee would be staying at camp.

“I’m going to miss you,” Jubilee’s voice was surprisingly quiet. Y/N looked over at their friend, feeling a lump form in their throat.

“I’m going to miss you too,” It was true. After the school year of basically being alone, Y/N had someone who understood them and they understood Jubilee too.

“Promise you’ll write?” Jubilee held out her pinky. Y/N linked their pinky with hers.

“Promise,”

“You’ll come back next summer?”

“Try and stop me,” Jubilee grinned, her usual brightness returning.

“Good. Because I’ve got so many plans for us. The big half-pipe, joining Capture the Flag finally and I even want to try the rope obstacle course with you,” Jubilee was terrified of heights so the obstacle course and Pegasi riding were the only activities from the schedule she did not do. But she had seen how much fun Y/N had up there and thought maybe it would not be so bad if she was up there with her friend. Y/N laughed, the sound surprising them. It felt good to laugh, to feel light, even if the weight of the coming school year loomed over the child like a storm cloud.

“Deal!”

XX

The drive back to Gotham was long and quiet. Y/N watched the familiar landscapes give way to the familiar gray of their city, their heart heavy with the weight of leaving camp behind. Poppy kept the radio volume low, letting the child process in silence. When the station wagon finally pulled through the gates of Wayne Manor, Y/N felt a strange mix of emotions: relief at seeing home, sadness at leaving camp, and anxiety at whatever awaited them inside. Alfred was waiting on the front steps, just as he had been the year before. Y/N had barely waited for the car to stop before they launched themself out of the car and to the butler. They threw their arms around his waist, pressing their face against his chest.

“Alfred,” Y/N’s voice was muffled against his shirt.

“Welcome home, Young Master,” Alfred’s voice was warm, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Y/N’s head.

“I trust you had a good summer?” Y/N nodded, their eyes stinging with tears. They had learned so much, grown so much, but there was still so much they did not understand. So much that they were still waiting for.

For now, though, Y/N was home. And that was enough.

XX

A few miles away from Wayne Manor, in a mansion that was just as grand but infinitely emptier, Tim Drake sat in his room surrounded by photographs, newspaper clippings, and a conspiracy board that would have made any seasoned detective proud. His computer hummed softly in the corner, its screen displaying a paused frame from a blurry video that had been circulating the hero forums for a few months. 

At the center of Tim’s board was a single photograph: Bruce Wayne, standing outside Wayne Enterprises, his face half-turned away from the camera. But Tim knew what was underneath that expensive suit and that billionaire’s smile. He knew the truth that no one else seemed to know.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

It had taken Tim months to piece it all together. Years, really, if he counted the time he’d spent obsessing over the Caped Crusader. He even risked nights out alone in Gotham just to take photos from afar of Batman and Robin. But soon that obsession led to analyzing every detail of the heroes. The way Batman moved, the way he fought, the way he carried himself; it all soon pointed toward one man. And once Tim had that thread, everything else began to unravel.

The Evidence Board:

Center: Bruce Wayne = Batman

Photo 1: Bruce Wayne at a Wayne Enterprises charity gala, 3 years ago. A large bruise on his jaw that matched the one Batman had received during a confrontation with Killer Croc the night before.

Photo 2: Batman and the first Robin, Dick Grayson, leaping across a Gotham rooftop. The acrobatic style of this Robin matched the exact performances of the former circus performer who Bruce Wayne had adopted.

Photo 3: Batman and the second Robin, Jason Todd, standing next to the BatMobile. Tim had analyzed the angle of the photo and determined that the second Robin was approximately the same height and build as the boy Bruce Wayne had adopted after Dick Grayson moved out. The boy that died several years later at the hands of the worst of Batman’s villains.

Photo 4: Batman all alone. There was no new Robin after Jason Todd’s death. That was a problem. Tim had been monitoring Batman’s activities for over a year, and he had seen the way the vigilante had changed since losing Jason. Batman was more brutal now, more violent. His movements were sharper, less controlled and he was making mistakes.

Photo 5: Y/N Wayne, standing in the schoolyard at Gotham Academy, looking lonely. Underneath this photo was a post-it note with a question mark.

Why are they not Robin?

This was the question that haunted Tim. Bruce Wayne had a biological child. They were the right age to be trained from the beginning. They had been in the Wayne household since infancy, that was long enough to be shaped into a Robin. They had been there for years, growing up alongside Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. They would have known the secrets, should have known the truth of their family.

But Y/N was not Robin.

Tim had watched them at school, had observed them on the bus, had even done a few nights of surveillance on the Wayne Manor grounds. Y/N was just a kid; a lonely kid who skated at the local park, who seemed to like Greek mythology, who always seemed to be reading or drawing or just staring out at the Gotham skyline as if waiting for something. Y/N did not have the build of a warrior or soldier. They did not have the scars or the bruises that came from nightly patrol. They did not have the intensity in their eyes that Tim saw in Dick Grayson’s photographs or the determined set of the jaw that Batman wore under his cowl.

Y.N was just a child who was alone, who was clearly grieving the loss of their brother, who had been forgotten by the father who now spent all his time hunting the monster that had stolen his son.

Why were they not Robin?

Tim did not have an answer for that. Not yet. But he had other pieces of the puzzle that he was fitting together.

Photo 6: A strange station wagon driving up Wayne Manor’s drive. Tim had taken this photo through his telescope. The driver had been a man with an uneven gait. He had been dressed in cargo shorts and a bright pink t-shirt, something utterly out of place in Bristol.

Photo 7: Y/N Wayne getting into that same station wagon, a trunk in the back. Alfred Pennyworth had been standing at the front door, his hand raised in a wave. He had not seemed alarmed nor called for security. He had watched his charge drive away with a stranger without a trace of concern.

Where did Y/N go during the summers?

The question had actually been answered during the school year when Miss Guzmán had the class talk about their summers. Y/N had mentioned going to a summer camp, one that was specialized for kids with ADHD. The youngest Wayne had called it Camp Delphi and Tim had written it down because he had thought it was a strange name for a camp. When he had gotten home later that day, he had gone looking for Camp Delphi. 

It was supposedly in Long Island, New York. Its website boasted about its way of handling kids with ADHD and other learning disabilities. But what Tim found strange was the photos seemed staged, like there was something hiding along the edges. There was no social media presence; in fact the camp seemed to pride itself in being a technology-free camp. There were no reviews from parents or former campers, nor did there seem to be a way to sign up for the camp. 

Just an address and a phone number. When Tim put the address onto a map online, he found a large valley of what looked to be strawberry fields but at the center was a blurred out plot of land that looked like it had several smudges for buildings. When Tim attempted to call the number, he got a voicemail: “Thank you for calling Camp Delphi. The camp director is currently unavailable at the moment. If you have the extension for the activities director, please type that in the keypad and we shall direct your call,”.

Tim stared at his conspiracy board, his eyes tracing the connections between Bruce Wayne and Batman, between the Robins and their civilian identities, between the mysterious summer camp and the youngest Wayne. The pieces were there, but they were not fitting together.

Why are you not Robin?

Tim looked at Y/N’s photograph again, at the loneliness in their eyes, at the way they held themself like someone who had been waiting for a rescue that never came. At times, it felt like Tim was looking at a mirror instead of looking at a different kid. He thought about the way Bruce Wayne had become more and more recluse while Batman had become more violent, more ruthless, more desperate since Jason’s death.

Batman needed a Robin.

Not just as a partner, but as something more fundamental. Jason had been Robin, Dick had been Robin. They had been the anchor that kept Batman grounded, that kept him from falling into the darkness. Without a Robin, Batman was nothing but a man consumed by his own vengeance. Bruce Wayne was spiraling; he was close to losing himself entirely.

And Tim knew that if someone did not step up soon, Batman was going to do something that he could not take back. He was either going to kill the Joker or he was going to get himself killed trying. Either way, Tim could not let that happen.

Tim’s parents were never home. They were archaeologists, always traveling to remote dig sites and always leaving their son alone in the Drake Mansion with only the nanny, who showed up once a week to check on him and make sure he had not starved or burned the house down. Tim had no one looking over his shoulder. No one to tell him that what he was about to do was reckless, dangerous, and probably impossible.

Tim could train. He had access to gym equipment, to knowledge, to the resources he needed to shape himself into what was necessary. He had watched Batman and Robin for years, and had studied their movements and techniques. Tim knew he was not ready to be Robin; not yet. But he could learn. No, he would have to learn.

Tim turned back to his computer, pulling up the files he had created for his plans. It was detailed, almost obsessive in its thoroughness: training schedules, exercise regimens, nutrition plans, detective techniques, even notes on the kinds of mental conditioning he would need to survive Gotham’s streets. Tim had a long way to go. He was only nine years old, and he was not a fighter. But he was smart and determined. He was not going to let Batman destroy himself if Tim could do something about it.

Tim glanced at Y/N’s photograph one more time. He wondered if Y/N had ever felt this way: alone, desperate, willing to do whatever it took to save someone they loved. Maybe they had. Maybe they were still feeling this way as they waited for a father who would not come and grieving a brother who was never coming back. That was the tragedy of it all. Y/N had the potential to be Robin; they could have had the training with the access and their bloodline. But for some reason, they were not.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Tim’s voice was barely a whisper, even though he did not need to be quiet in his museum of a home.

“I don’t know why you’re not the one doing this. But if you can’t, then I will,” Tim stood up, squaring his shoulders. He had a long road ahead of him, one that would require sacrifice, pain and countless hours of training. But Tim will do it; for Batman, for Gotham, for the family he had been watching from afar, the family that did not even know he existed. He was going to prove that he was not just another neglected kid in Gotham, just another forgotten kid who had been left behind.

Tim Drake was going to become something more.

A/N: Soooo, how was it? When I started writing this chapter, I was originally like 'I wonder if it's obvious that one of my first ever ship was DicKori' before shrugging to continue. Also, I tried to be respectful towards Romani culture and language in this story since Dick is Rom and when I was going through a Romani language book, I found the term 'Ves'tacha'; I really hope I used it right, because the book said the term was for someone beloved (of great affection), but did not specify if it was familial or romantic. So if someone does know, please tell me if I need to correct it. Thanks for reading! I hope to update you on the next chapter soon!!!!!

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