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Gotham is as dreary as the last time Talia had the misfortune of passing through.
Only this time, she's doing more than simply passing through. There is no real goal beyond the one she has — had — in Gotham. This side of the world is rarely something she entertains, if she can help it. There are more important things to attend to, more important people to care for back home.
That being said, Talia can't say she truly hates Gotham either. It seems rather insensitive to say so, this place full of potential that is forever cursed to lay beneath fog and darkness.
Her beloved is particularly infatuated with this place. So much so, that he would choose a city full of thousands of unfamiliar faces over her. Batman would always choose Gotham's children before his own, she's sure — because to him, they are one of the same.
Maybe that's why she's here to begin with.
The assassin in her is growing restless, standing on the rooftop of one of Gotham's more inconspicuous buildings, hidden in the metal forest of hotels and offices. The job was done hours ago now, and yet, Talia finds her feet still rooted into Gotham's stone streets, inhaling its poisonous air.
She's not sure why she waits. She knows who she's waiting for — but not what she's hoping to see in him. Anger? Horror? Surprise?
She scoffs, playing with her fingers as a harsh breeze cuts her cheek. It flutters the bottom of her white suit, blowing faintly behind her. Not wide enough to be a cape, but the theatrics are not lost to her.
Talia hadn't arrived in Gotham wearing white. Blood was always a terrible stench, one that clung to you even stronger if it could be seen. Of course, Talia is not a fighter. She is an assassin. The very reason for her wearing white might be to uphold some rather convoluted hope — but also, isn't it quite terrifying to be approached by someone wanting to kill you, while they're wearing all white?
It's almost as if to say, you are not worth stains. Your death will be painful, if you so deserved, and you will suffer — but there will be no proof of it at all.
That wasn't the case this time. This time, the death Talia dealt was purposefully messy. Beyond painful. Each infliction of metal against skin, every kick to bone.
( "I was awake for most of it," Jason whispers, knees brought up to his chest, eyes newly bright green as he stares absently at the spot next to a sleeping Damian on the bed between them, "I felt it all. Even when I begged, he wouldn't stop."
Talia listens silently. She runs a hand through Damian's hair as he snores softly on a blanket, the child leaning against her palm. Jason's eyes flick over to the baby, watching the motion carefully.
"I didn't want to die," Jason sobs, quietly as to not wake the baby, "I didn't—" )
Talia listens to the passing chorus of sirens on the streets below, the indistinguishable muttering of people all merged into one disastrous harmony that trickles up into the sky. She listens to nothing, and wonders, what is it that Batman hears so vehemently.
It's as she listens does she feel his presence fall over her like a particularly stubborn storm cloud. He is purposefully loud in his appearance, knowing better than to try and sneak up on her. Respects her enough to be silent until prompted.
"You took longer than expected," Talia finally says, turning to face him.
Batman is a large shadow in the darkness, the moon doing little to illuminate his features at the distance they're standing apart, "You left quite a scene to investigate."
She wants to laugh at that, but decides she's not here to patronise. Though, there was very little left at her scene to investigate.
Aside from the obvious of course;
"A crowbar, a bomb and a body," Talia recounts clearly, "It hardly needed your expertise."
"The Joker's body," Batman grunts, as if it makes a difference in the grand scheme for things to her. It might mean something to him, but definitely not to her.
Talia shrugs minutely. She steps forward the same time Batman does, and finally, he steps out of the shadow encasing him to show his expression. The cowl hides a lot of what she wants to see. Not that it matters much to her. The cowl has always been an unmovable force between them, even when Bruce took it off to show her crystals in his eyes.
Now, when Batman steps forward, Talia stares.
Grief has not been kind, is the first thing she thinks, kindness is easy to lose when lost in anger.
"Bruce," Talia starts.
It's an unspoken promise. There are no bugs planted, no one else around to hear them. Bruce would not doubt that Talia has scouted the entire area, disengaging any camera in the vicinity that was even slightly pointed in their direction. No one is here to witness the unmasking besides Talia al Ghul, the moon, and their shared understanding of grief.
Batman pulls back his cowl, and Talia stares into crystal eyes, wondering how it's possible for the ocean to lose so much blue, "Talia."
She doesn't respond. Let him decide for himself how he'll continue this exchange.
( "He'd never replace me," Jason mumbles again for the fourth time since Talia presented him with the envelope filled with newspaper clippings and League photographs of Batman and his new Robin, "He — he would never."
"Maybe not," Talia finally agrees, "But he will not avenge you."
Jason goes still, and Damian stirs in his sleep from the loss of the background noise that keeps him asleep.
The boy lets out a shaky exhale, "He won't kill the Joker."
"No," Talia agrees for the second time.
Jason starts to sob again, and Damian sleeps peacefully in the space between them. )
"Why?" Bruce finally asks, gentle against the cold wind howling around them.
Why, Talia thinks, this is new.
It's not the usual 'What were you thinking?' or 'How could you do this?' spoken like biting poison, betrayal painted across his face. Bruce doesn't seem angry at all, in fact, he looks as calm as he could in a situation like this. His mouth is pulled down into a perpetual scowl, but it lacks the usual threat it carries.
Talia picks at her nails absently, frowning at the blood under her pinky, "Why not?"
"No," Bruce whispers, moving forward with one thundering step, "You are not an amateur. You do not simply do. Why? Why him? Why now?"
It's not anger as much as it is gratitude, Talia realises with a start. To anyone else it would seem accusatory, but no one else has seen Bruce Wayne prior to and after the Batman he is today as closely as Talia has.
It is relief that washes off of Bruce in great waves of uncertainty. Talia relishes in it all, dipping her feet into this new sea of understanding he's letting her in on. She wonders if he even realises that she knows, that deep down;
Batman is glad the Joker is dead. Batman is even more pleased that it was not him who killed the Joker.
The air between them smells like vindication.
Talia smiles to herself, "I didn't do it for you."
It's always a treat when Batman lets the mask beneath his cowl slip. He does so at this moment, confusion pulling at his scowl so it becomes a displeased frown instead. It's at these moments does Talia remember why she was so besotted, why she is still enamoured, by an individual who will never find peace in his own creation.
"Who did you do it for?" Bruce then asks, because he knows Talia only ever speaks the truth when her father is not involved. There is cowardice in lying to someone who can't fool you the same way.
The gears are turning at exceptional speed behind Bruce's eyes, but it's not enough. For this particular problem, it will never be enough.
He will never know until he sees Jason.
( "He won't kill him," Jason says, voice broken from his crying, "I don't — I don't need him to do. I want him to. But I — but I just need — I just need him to —"
Talia realises with a start that Bruce Wayne has found a son in a boy who's heart is purer than either of theirs will ever be.
She briefly looks at Damian, sweet Damian, who is to start his next level of training within the next year, whose hands are still soft and unscarred. She looks back at Jason, the scars across his face that the Pit could not remove.
"I just need my dad," Jason tells her.
Talia watches him cry. )
Bruce blinks, and suddenly, what little insecurity was filtering through is pulled back and replaced with Batman's indomitable shield, even without the cowl for him to hide his desperation behind, "Talia." He demands, quietly. He knows better than to raise his voice at her.
"It appears we judged you too quickly, beloved," Talia replies, equally as soft, yet she steps back into the shadows caused by the skyscrapers towering over them instead of forward into what she knows will always be a welcoming embrace, "Are you not going to chase me?"
Not catch. Batman can never catch Talia al Ghul. Only chase.
Bruce is silent for a moment, "You know the answer to that."
No.
Talia grins.
"His faith in your love, while misplaced, was not in vain," Talia tells him, leaning back on the railing of the roof, "Prepare yourself for my next visit. I will not return alone."
"Talia!" Bruce calls, almost staggering forward when she takes another step away.
She smiles at his sudden panic, and he immediately shrinks back when the softness in her eyes conveys genuinity, "It is not a threat, my love. I have only ever wanted the best for you. But there are others who come first."
"Who?" Bruce demands again, no longer angry. He is distressed, backed into a corner by a new challenge he can't yet see.
Talia's fond smile does not waver, "Be patient. We will return."
Perhaps it's a little forthcoming to decide where Jason's next journey in his new life should be without consulting the boy. But to Talia, this is enough, this is proof — that somewhere, Batman harbours that darkness she knew he shared in those early years. That at their core, they are not so different.
The Joker's blood is not only under her nails anymore. The blood paints Bruce Wayne in large strokes of colour.
Once she reaches the edge of the roof, she turns and pushes off the railing. Batman does not follow as she falls.
( "What do you want, child?" Talia asks gently, wondering how hard Jason will bite or how quickly he will fall to his own blade, "Revenge? Do you want him dead? Do you want to kill him? Torture him like he did you?"
Jason finally looks up from Damian's sleeping form, pupils trembling with suppressed rage. But as quickly as it presented itself, the anger faded into something brittle, something not yet formed under skin.
"I want to go home," Jason whispers desperately, still a child, "But I can't."
Talia decides what must be done fairly quickly after that. )
Jason stares up at the large gate, the duffel bag falling precariously off his shoulders. There's not much in there other than a few gifts of clothing Talia has given him across the few months he stayed in the League, as well as different forms of tea Jason insisted they bring along as a gift.
Talia is mildly amused. Only Jason would bring a gift of peace when returning to his own home. He must think, if there is anything to forgive, that it would be bought over with zhourat tea.
"Just like that?" Jason finally asks quietly, looking back at her dubiously, "We're just gonna… knock on the front door?"
"I feel the need to remind you again that this is not a mission. Why would we break into your own home?" Talia muses, smirking at the frustrated embarrassment that paints the boy's ears pink.
"I'm just saying," Jason grumbles, finally hiking up his duffel bag and taking a large breath in, "This is just so weird. I used to jump the fence to sneak out to be Robin when I was grounded and now I'm — it just feels like I've never been here before."
Talia's smirk softens into a smile, and she reaches out to rest a hand against the boy's arm, "You are home, my child."
It calms Jason down almost as much as it seems to unnerve him.
Talia pulls back gently, "If you do not feel ready we do not need to —"
"No! No I just," Jason pauses, looking down beside Talia with a secret sort of smile, "We've got this. Don't we?"
Talia follows his gaze with a raised brow, "Well, my heart?"
Damian, who is in a terrible mood after the hours of travelling to get here, and thoroughly did not enjoy the change to the Gotham cold, harrumps at them. Talia tuts under her breath without any real correction, chuckling along with Jason when Damian rolls his eyes. The yellow coat and hat he's in makes him look like a particularly angry duckling.
Jason takes the toddler's hand into his, giving Talia a final look as he shakily reaches out to the buttons on the side of the gate. He presses call. It buzzes for a moment, and Jason's hand rests against the metal panel anxiously.
Finally;
"Wayne residence." Alfred Pennyworth greets unceremoniously.
Jason swallows, but when he opens his mouth, no sound escapes him. He closes it abruptly, taking one tiny step away. Damian looks up at him confused, tugging at his hand impatiently.
"Hello?"
Talia steps forward, "Mr. Pennyworth."
"Miss Talia," Alfred says politely, "Master Bruce informed me you would be visiting soon. If you give me a moment, I will come to the front gate to escort you in."
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Pennyworth," Talia says, looking over to Jason, "I have someone to guide me who knows your grounds well."
The butler is silent, and then in a tone that suggests he's somehow linked this conversation with Bruce and the both of them are growing more and more suspicious, Alfred says, "I see. Who might that be?"
Talia steps back and lets Jason stand in front of the gate speaker once more. Damian pressing against the back of his legs and peering into the Wayne Manor grounds with assessing eyes.
"Hi Alfie," Jason says tentatively, "I uh, lost my keys."
A lot happens quickly after that. There is quite a lot of swearing over the speaker, which makes Talia smile as Damian scrunches up his nose in surprise. Jason laughs heartily, and he's still laughing, somewhat hysterically when the gate buzzes open and the three start the walk up to the estate.
It's not a long walk at all, and it's cut short when the large front door to the manor flies open, and a visibly dishevelled Bruce Wayne pours out of the house in what appears to be his pajamas. Jason's hysterical laughter quickly descends into a mixture of laughter and crying, as he drops his duffel bag to run up the driveway.
The Pit did more than just heal his mind and more permanent injuries. When Talia had found Jason, he was far too small for his age, underweight and sick. The Pit restored a lot of what his mind had repressed, and seemed to speed up his growth in the process.
While he lacks the muscle that would usually come with his newfound height, he moves shakily, like the weight of the entire world is crashing on top of him. Talia and Damian walk hand in hand slowly behind him, watching as Jason runs and staggers towards his home.
Bruce Wayne is much less shaky, but even he can not contain the disbelief coursing through his body. The two practically crash into one another, Bruce quickly shielding Jason from the fall as they roll onto the pebbled ground.
"Oh god," Bruce seems to be chanting into the boy's curly hair, streaked white as proof of his resurrection, "Oh Jay. My son. Jay is it really — Jason?"
Jason doesn't say much in reply, other than what to Talia sounds like more incomprehensible sobbing. She shake her head fondly, thinking back to the journey here when Jason had kept a strong facade of indifference, ready to greet Bruce with the wisdom of a new life.
But that is all for later, she supposes. For now, Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd will hold each other, knees digging into the earth, crying out in gratitude to anything that would listen. Bruce clutches the back of Jason's head, pulling him into the crook of his neck as he lets tears stream down his face, rocking them back and forth.
( "I can't be Robin anymore," Jason tells her sternly, cleaning his training blades carefully, "I need to be more. Gotham needs more."
Talia wonders if he says this because of the new little boy wearing the Robin costume. Or if rather, death has shown a new perspective of understanding to a boy of his capabilities.
"You are more," Talia tells him definitively. )
One day, in the near future she suspects, Bruce Wayne will come to an ultimatum when he is faced with the truth of his son's return. He will be forced to endure or disregard Jason's new way of fighting, of surviving — Batman will need to decide if his son is more dearer than his code.
She hopes he will not act like the hypocrite he will feel urged to be. The blood that will soon be on Jason's hands in his mission to protect the city will be no different than the blood that covers Bruce in his blind eye.
Talia hopes, for his benefit and hers, he will choose wisely.
"Hello," Damian suddenly speaks to her side, and Talia is surprised when she turns to see a small boy standing beside her son, staring at them intensely. She was too busy watching the reunion, she hadn't noticed him slip past.
She knows who he is immediately, but Talia still takes a moment to look him over. He is almost as small as Jason when she first took him in, around the same age as well, but his eyes are bigger and brighter in a way Jason's won't ever be again.
Timothy Drake is, after all, a watcher.
"Hi," Timothy replies politely, smiling hesitantly at Damian and then at Talia, "Hello."
Talia nods in greeting, pleased. She wonders what the boy must think of the display before him, Bruce and Jason lost in their own world of grief and tragedy. Timothy will soon find himself placed in the centre, whether he wants to or not. She is looking forward to seeing how that will play out.
Timothy peers down at Damian again, "Who are you?" He asks bluntly, as if he already knows, and Talia's eyes twinkle in amusement.
A watcher indeed.
The child looks up to his mother for a moment, and then at his father and brother crouched in the dirt as they cry uncontrollably. He then regards the new boy stood before him.
The boy pulls his hand out of his mother's, and stands as tall as he can, dressed in his bright yellow coat and too-big wooly hat, "I am Damian al Ghul-Wayne."
( "It's time for you both to go home," Talia announces with finality one night, nails clean and dressed in white.
The cruel inevitability of Bruce Wayne's existence seems to be dependent on his loss. Fate is often the perpetrator in such cases of misgivings. Bruce is forever the fool for following along blindly, unwilling to compromise.
Fortunately for him, Talia al Ghul has never been a follower of fate. )